Dear A-lister, There are, objectively, eleventy billion beautiful places to write. Florence in spring. Sydney harbour. Hydra’s blue-white dazzle. My own desk, with white bifold shutters overlooking a travertine terrace, clipped green hedges, blue, blue sky. Some washing. All heaven. So why France? Shhhh my inner sparkle fairy has already packed. Saying no could cause a full diva meltdown. But why now? Because when I told her I must stay at home and keep grinding out book prom