what kind of writer i think i am

I’m not sure what i want to come out of this particular post but its a question i often find myself pondering.
Im not your run of the mill woman with words only in defence of vaginas and all woe is me about how bad life is because “men”  and how much i struggle and point point point at the devil who fucked me over.  If thats your thing you wont find it here. Nothing wrong with it i suppose but i just don’t buy it. I’ve met more bad women than men, but there are equally as many men that aren’t good. No one is better than the other. Nevertheless I complain a fair amount and a lot of what i write is probably construed as “negative” — its not necessarily, its just honest and raw. But i don’t believe i am owed a single damn thing because of past experiences.

I like men and i like things that men do, they’ve done things to me i didn’t like and i got over it. Eventually. Cigarette burns turn to scars and disappear in the sun, thats good enough for me. I don’t see ’em no more.

I’m a life writer. I used to be a good person and in the deepest pit i still can be. But when i write its all born from the pain, hate, loss, goodness, life, true exhilarating glee, experience and what kept me alive. When you read my books, my poetry, songs and plays — you are reading me, loving me and living with me. Im not some beautiful soul with well wishes and kisses for babes. Im the woman in the dark without a kind word for anyone but the poor lad by the fire, and he’s the one i chose to save.

Im a broken hollow bone story teller, and thats what i’ll write when it comes to my author bio. It’s my niche, my living and hopelessness all laced into a short phrase with the power of some bad God behind it. I’ve started paying more attention to the business side of my journey to becoming a published author, not just a magazine writer or lonesome mole with a lyrical sense to scribble in the dark. I used to write for magazines, i sent in my work and it never truly worked for me, especially after some son of a bitch stole my article. He took it, edited it, had it printed and fucked me over royally. Imagine my embarrassment when my mother and sailing friends bought the magazine purely for my work… and it was nowhere to be found. That was an unhappy experience for me when i had to admit to them, that yes — my article was stolen and no i don’t know that i’ll get over it. I never wanted to write again because “what if?” So i don’t publish my real work online anymore. The stuff you read on instagram is just soliloquies and train of thought. Its all bullshit and bloodwords. I liked the magazine business sometimes but it was a lot of work for something i was not truly invested in, Mutiny Magazine was the favourite that i wrote for and i would still like to write for them now and again when my schedule frees up. Great, fun & happy pirates & mermaids. Ha.

Anyway back to my point. My instagram tag has changed from “hyggjaa” to my name. I’ve considered this change since i started really working on this novel, i knew for a fact an agent would suggest i changed it to make readers able to find me with ease. So i went ahead and got it over with. Same with my facebook page — last night i officially changed it to Writer/Author, but i imagine my posts will still be somewhat the same but perhaps with more books or the like. This is also the reason for 95% of my unfollows. I kept those relevant to my happiness, or those i enjoy following and the rest have been unfollowed. It’s nice to feel it is a fresh, raw if you will, start. Over the next period of time there will be changes, considerations and probably intermittent silences. I will be working my absolute hardest to find agent i can work with, get my book published and really dive into my first few chapters of a second novel.

My next steps will be to complete an author bio (this will change over time but i’d like a good solid start — but i am TERRIBLE at writing about myself. I hate it and i dont believe in bragging – its ugly.) I will start to reach out to my lists of possible agents when the books is totally finished ( i am prepared to face many many rejections, just like acting thats what this business is like — though i am yet to be rejected in acting. Ha. Brag. Ugly.) and i will keep writing through it all. Doing my exercises, living and writing.

May you stay well and live as you like. If you have something to say, please feel free to comment below !! I’d love to connect…. on my own terms.

brace yourself

Im trying to brace myself. Everyone is out of the office till the rest of the week and im absolutely taking advantage of that. Ive finished my writing exercise for the day and been looking for the 100th time for a single agent i feel positive about. Just to be a wee bit ahead 0f whatever game it is that im playing. I found three that i think i might be fantastic. Whether they’ll think the same of me is the hard part. We shall see.

Now. Ive had an obligatory office donut, i chose the one with almonds, and so for the rest of the day i will be doing this and that. Until around 2.30 when i steal away to the student center and kiss with Jack Kerouac for an hour. I would rather be home watching Secret Window of course. A weird movie to inspire someone but its my favourite film and i think of it often to get myself into the spirit of writing.

Lately ive had a few issues with HR at work which is why im so overly stressed and thinly strung, but none of that now.

how is it already sunday?

I don’t understand how it’s already Sunday. Wasn’t it Friday just two hours ago?
Though i suppose if you don’t really live for your day job , free time goes by faster than is necessary and is typically hard to come by. Due to particular circumstances my job has become incredibly busy lately — which doesn’t give me much time to work on my novel like i have been; unfortunately my mood is suffering something fierce from being stifled like that. As a creative person i have to do something artistic or meaningful everyday. It’s the whole point, and when that is taken away, even a little, i become a little bit of a nuisance. I get mad, rude and shut myself away. I would leave my job for less than that, if i didn’t thrive from the pay-check at the end of the month. I still have yet to receive a full pay-check and i’ve been working here since September/August time. How is that possible?

The good thing is that this means i have to really force myself to work on my novel at home, something that i’ve mentioned that i find pretty hard. When I’m home I’m exhausted from having to be around people all day and i just want to sit doing nothing, maybe play some bass or piano but i don’t want to bleed into my book when I’m already drained. However, thats just not how it works. If i’d worked on my book at work and at home — i’d have been finish a year ago.
And thus i’ve decided to try to focus more on my writing and my reading and in that regard i will be letting the social media disappear a little. I wont be doing anything extra. I’ll stick to writing, cooking dinner and occasionally swashbuckling with the swords in the yard when the weather is kind. On a side note I’ve started reading two books — one called the Modern cowboy and the other Below the Convergence about Antarctica expeditions.  Are you reading any books?

Although I have contacted the local theatre again. I contacted them last year about auditioning but then i ended up not being able to dedicate my evenings to them. However i contacted them again about participating in a monthly reading. They host an evening where people bring in their plays, and the actors sit about and read them for an audience — then a discussion ensures but i might sneak out the back door at that point. Something i’m commonly known for is disappearing when my job is over. I hang about to help back stage but i refuse to participate in the false pleasantries. It’s a very American thing to stand and talk to the audience outside the theatre afterwards and let them tell you who they loved you. Not that it didn’t happen in England too… people i worked with loved to hear compliments about their performance. I never needed them and i still don’t. I bleed on stage like i do in my books, so when i’m finished –  my job is done and the rest is none of my business. It would be nice to do some decent theatre in America. So far New England was a pretty terrible experience.  Crazy directors sending me emails about taking vitamin D, being unable to work with actors …  and the actors themselves having too big egos and lacking in the ability to actually….act.
Huntsville Texas was pretty damn weird too, but i hold out hope that i’ll find a place that fits me. For me acting has to be fun. No bitching or biting or back chatting each other. Life is too dang short.

Cowboy on the prarier
Sunday Vibes

Other than that — not much is happening. We’re looking into leaving and finally ended up some place back in Texas but thats a lot of work and most likely a few months off. We’re hoping to get a visit to Deadwood in before we go and seeing a few historic places when the weather clears up. We’ve toyed with the thought of moving to the US Virgin Island or the old Danish Caribbean islands like St John or St Croix, but the crime might be the damn kicker. I don’t fancy my chances in a place with gang violence. If you could move anywhere — where would you go?

I hope you’re all having a wonderful weekend, and the it takes a long while for Monday to come around.

bad lungs

Hey everyone.
I officially received my accepted letters through email today, which was nice! I was starting to grow a little concerned they were going to forget. Looking through the attachments i grew a little anxious due to unforeseen payments i’ll have to make, that weren’t listed on their website, but living in America i’ve learned to always expect to have to attend to hidden payments for absolutely everything — doesn’t mean it doesn’t bum me the hell out every time, know what i mean? Im not saying its only America — it could just as well happen in Denmark too.
Either way — i can’t wait to get started, as i’ve been saying for a long time now.

I’ve been lucky enough to have been off from work since Thursday. I took my free day on Friday — it was a Christmas gift from work that we could take one day off in the year without it counting towards our severely meagre vacation or sick time. On top of that today was Martin Luther King day and so was also a day off from work; so i got a good four days off and it was almost perfect, definitely needed. Unfortunately today i’ve spent in utter pain. Unable to move without shooting pains in my lungs and chest. Im stubborn as a mule, and likely equally stupid when it comes to advice — i refused a trip to the emergency room and a visit to the doctor, because i know they’ll want to run any test they can even if its unnecessary. If i were in Denmark or in Texas — i’d have gone, but i will NOT pay for medical help unless i’m at deaths door if I’m in neither place. However, i’ll ask Jack to go if he’s not feeling well. Haha. I’m dreading a very tough day tomorrow if i don’t feel any better. I have time for one sick day but i don’t want to use it unless it’s an emergency or something. This is exactly why i hate this kind of lifestyle — i don’t like having to be accountable to someone else and have someone else decide what i can and can’t do. It doesn’t bode well for my soul. How do i get through it? I remind myself that its temporary.
Bring on 2020 when i start a new path!

Needless to say, today i’ve been immobile and useless. I genuinely struggle to sit and do nothing, i cannot do it! As we all do when we know we have days off coming up, i had plans and things i’d like to get done. I wanted to start working on my Denmark video, write some and read some. I wanted to pack and so many other things. I got a lot of cleaning done, worked out and edited a few photos, we even ventured out into the baltic night last night to film time-lapses videos, but I’m never satisfied, do you know what i mean? I want everything on my list completed to feel like i accomplished something. We both managed to catch up on some rest from our trip though, finally — and really thats what we really needed.

girl in cowboy hat

fifty shades of bland

Fifty shades of bland; thats what my childhood home in Sand Bay, UK has been turned into.  Not many of us spend the rest of our adult lives in our childhood homes, but when we sold ours a few years ago i desperately hoped she wouldn’t be turned into some modern monstrosity. The trees my mother grew in the front garden, with her many potted flowers that bloomed in the summer — were all torn from their beds. Outside the house was painted white with black borders. It looks like they’d made some poor attempt to make it look like a Danish summer house, but the difference is that Danish homes tend to be warm and cozy — even if they are white.

The inside of the house now looks like a sad sterile hospital wing form a grotesque horror movie with too many slasher shots. It hurt my heart, i could barely recognise which room is which. The people who bought the house from us bought it to flip it, and she lost the beautiful cottage feel. I guess it also hurts because it will never be how i remember it. Her walls pulled down and her garden up rooted to look like some construction plant.

Damn, it sucks so bad. It hurt me more than i’d have anticipated, all i can say is that i bet the ghosts in that house are livid.
Has anyone ever experienced this before? Do your family still live in your childhood home?

Home
My pictures of my house are lost somewhere on my hard drive, so i stole this from my papKent. This is how i’ll choose to remember her. Warm, happy and full of life and character.