Paris, and the Story I Wasn't Looking For

There is something about Paris that makes you want to slow down. Maybe it's the little cafés hidden on quiet streets, the beautiful buildings you accidentally discover when you take the wrong turn, or simply the feeling that somehow, in this city, love is always present. I traveled to Paris for work, which meant my days were filled with meetings, emails, schedules, and all those very unromantic things that usually come with business trips. But somewhere between one meeting and the next, I decided to give myself a little time to simply… wander.

No agenda. No rush.

Just me, Paris, and the possibility of finding something I didn't even know I was looking for. And that's when it happened.

I'd been thinking about my fourth book for a while. I knew there was another story inside me, but something was missing. I couldn't quite find its voice, its atmosphere, that little spark that turns an idea into something you suddenly need to write.

Paris gave me that spark.

Perhaps it was standing there with the Eiffel Tower behind me, watching people pass by and wondering about all the stories they carried with them.

Perhaps it was the cafés. The music. The lights. The couples walking hand in hand. Or perhaps it was simply allowing myself enough silence to listen to my own imagination again. Because love seems to be everywhere in Paris. Not only romantic love. Love for beauty. For food. For art. For conversation. For little moments. For life itself.

And as a writer, those little moments are everything. I came to Paris with a suitcase, a laptop, and a calendar full of work. I left with something I hadn't packed.

A story.

The missing pieces slowly started finding their place, characters began speaking a little louder in my head, and suddenly my fourth book didn't feel like an idea anymore.

It felt real. I won't tell you too much about it yet. Where would be the fun in that? 😉

But I can tell you this: There will be love. There will be emotions. There will be pieces of real life hidden between the lines. And maybe, just maybe, a little bit of Paris found its way into the pages too. Sometimes inspiration doesn't arrive when you're sitting in front of a blank document waiting for it. Sometimes you have to go outside. Walk. Look around. Get a little lost. And let a city whisper the beginning of your next story.

Paris did that for me... And now… I have a book to write.