Writing has been called a solitary pursuit. That’s not been my experience. For me, community is central to my creative routine. The time I spend with other writers is invaluable to my craft as well as being personally fulfilling.

In-person workshops recharge my enthusiasm and prove vital to inspiring generative work. Online critique groups have helped me hone my skills and exposed me to the writing of talented authors working across genres. My weekly writing call with Phil W. Bayles tops up my motivation like nothing else; I’m enormously lucky to have a writing partner like him.

Long-distance creative relationships were, for a long time, the main way I interacted with other writers. But over the last year I’ve become more involved in my local literary communities. The City of Light has a vibrant anglophone writing scene. Much of it is centred on bookstores, bars and cultural institutions, as well as literary journals, publishing houses and creative associations.

Despite being a French city, Paris is home to three weekly anglophone open mic nights. There’s Spoken Word Paris on Mondays, the Dissident Salon on Tuesdays and Paris Lit Up on Thursdays. Reading at these nights has built up my confidence and given me regularly contact with likeminded writers committed to a lively literary scene. I’m extremely grateful to everyone involved in making these events happen.

I’ve even started hosting readings myself – from the comfort of my own flat.

Welcome to Salon 19

In my mind, a literary salon and an open mic are not quite the same thing. The work shared at salons tends to be more polished; the aim is not to finetune or test out works-in-progress, but to entertain or make think an audience of peers. It offers a space for writers to express their authentic selves, to share the work they find most meaningful and engage with the topics closest to their hearts.

Named for my beloved neighbourhood, Paris’s 19th arrondissement, Salon 19 is my way of showing appreciation to the people and organisations around me who have helped me grow as a writer. It’s a space for writers to connect, share work and be grateful for each other’s support and company.

We invite a bunch of writers over to our flat on a Saturday evening. We sign up ten readers – poets, short story writers, essayists, novelists – and we split the readings into two groups of five. There’s usually cake in the interval. People bring a bottle, and we always end up with more wine than we started with. Some folks stay chatting long into the night.

When I started planning the evening, I had in mind a comfy sofa, albeit one with a few red wine stains. It’s not a space for critique or competition; it’s a way to make friends and enjoy the written word. It’s informal while still being serious, entertaining while still being meaningful. Hosting at home is my way of saying: I love telling stories, I love this community, I love the work being shared.

We’ve now hosted four salons. That’s 40 readings total. From 25 different performers. We’ve had deep-dives on English folklore, horror stories about losing limbs, and meet-cute romances that end in murder. Each salon is different. And each time, new friendships are formed.

Literary communities are not a given: they need to be nurtured and maintained. There are so many people across Paris involved in making this happen. I’m just a small part of that. But I’m proud of the relaxed, joyful vibe we’ve created in my living room: the room in which life happens. When people come together to share their fears and passions, their griefs and hopes, Salon 19 sure feels alive.