C’est la vie, français!

I never imagined that I’d be sitting in a French writing workshop preparing to write my first French short story. I hated creative writing in English, my first language, during school and dropped it as soon as possible. I’ve gone through the motions of dropping my French major many times as well but there’s always been something (or at least a crazy voice in my head) telling me to keep going with it. I’m now at the end of the French program – literally in the most advanced subject possible and we’ve progressed from reading several short stories to writing ones of our own using various literary techniques or conventions. I was surprised how much I genuinely enjoyed the exercise or at least the fact that I can now express myself fluently and spontaneously in what is my third language. I harbour no pretence that my ‘story’ is actually or or engaging. However, it’s something that I’ve written with none or very few grammatical errors in the space of about fifteen minutes and that’s why I’m so proud. The story that I’ve attached was written around the convention of the ‘chute’, which is basically the twist or the punchline of the story delivered in the last sentence.

Je leur avais bien dit que je ne pourrais pas aller maintenant quand mon boulot est occupé et mes enfants avaient eu des vacances, sans moi il n’y avait pas un baby-sitter, il n’est aucune des options pour moi partir maintenant. Il me dit que je n’ai pas un choix, mais j’ai toujours un choix. Depuis j’étais petite j’avais choisi quand je mangeais, faisais mon travail (c’est bon travailler de sa maison), et c’est ridicule pour ça que je n’ai pas du choix. Mais, je suis ici maintenant, ce n’était pas mon choix, c’est le mauvais moment. Le médecin remplit l’acte de décès, puis il me ferme les yeux. Rideau.