Welcome to another installment of TNBBC's Where Writers Write!
I like to write at home, in my bed, because that is the only place where no one talks to me, stares at me with a dumb smile, asks me if I want sugar in my green tea, or asks if the seat across from me is empty and if he could sit there; see, my great mind does not mix with that of the common man.
My bed is great. It is from this fancy French furniture shop called Roche Bobois and is called the “Backstage Bed” because it was designed like a theater stage, with red curtains that feel like a soft furry cat, which is way better to pet than any actual cat, who would either talk to me, stare at me with a dumb smile, leap into my green tea, or sit in the seat across from me; see, my mind does not mix with that of someone who throws up fur balls on the floor.
The glass-canopy, architect-designed room I live in is fantastic. It really does cover the sound of my daily nocturnal terrors with an efficiency nothing else matches. Also, it keeps foreign visitors separated from my area. The key to lock the glass canopy door is unfortunately broken, so I have to use this horse head on a wooden stick to close it.
That’s how I get to meet my best friend: Silence.
Silence doesn’t talk to me, stare at me with a dumb smile, ask me if I want sugar in my green tea, or ask if the seat across from me is empty and if he could sit there. Being an only child, Silence sometimes gets acquainted with Boredom, and that’s when magic happens and I write faster than the speed of a backstage light.
North Meridian Press
ADHD IN D MINOR is a high-speed,
television-flavored mixtape of sketches, manifestos, character monologues, rage
letters, and love notes that orbit the unhinged core of a mind too fast for
traditional structure. As it turns out, Zoé Mahfouz did not come to literature
to heal. She came to dominate. Raised by a Montessori mom, groomed by reruns of Frasier, Will
& Grace and Family
Guy, and diagnosed with a God Complex, the self-declared long-lost
third Coen Brother (or Sister) believes in scenes, not chapters, and
punchlines, not conclusions. This is not autofiction. This is Zoé Mahfouz’s
multiverse. A dramatic reenactment written with the rhythm of a cold open and
the philosophy of a sugar-high Woody Allen character. Every chapter is a freeze
frame. Every voice sounds like it might burst into a song from Cats or yell “Cut!” mid-sentence.
This
is not a book you read so much as attend. Take your seat. Silence your phone.
The curtain rises on the inner life of someone who can’t stop noticing,
narrating, overthinking, oversharing, or auditioning for roles she made up
herself.
And yes, it’s in D Minor, the funniest of all the melancholy keys.
Zoé Mahfouz
She/Her/Hers
Paris, France
IMDb : https://www.imdb.com/fr/name/nm8051766/
TikTok @Lessautesdhumeurdezoe

