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.

klokken lort om natten



Klokken er lidt over lort om natten i USA og  som sædvanligt kan jeg ikke sove. Jeg fik pludseligt lyst til at skrive et dansk indlæg på bloggen — det er sku sjældent. Nu når Jack øver sig i at lære dansk bliver jeg mere og mere inspireret i at forbedre mit eget sprog. Han har simpelthen sat det op sådan at vi kan se dansk tv og radio programmer herovre circa 6500km væk — et jule mirakel if ever there was one. Det er så dejligt at kunne følge med i en julekalender imens man tæller op til jul, noget så simpelt varmer hjertet. Så kan jeg lade som om Danmark er lige ude for vinduet og mormor bor lige om hjørnet.

Når jeg læser det jeg skriver på dansk kan jeg godt mærke at jeg bliver enormt irriteret. På engelsk er jeg forfatter men på dansk kan jeg ikke huske de ord der ligger så tydeligt for mig på engelsk. Det er simpelthen så træls at indrømme at på dansk er min intelligens nok ikke ældre end 5 år gammel. Men pyt med det. Fordi det er jul og idag skal vi spise and og risalamande. Så så galt er det sku heller ikke.

I ønskes en rigtig glædelig jul og godt nyår herfra.

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a regular calamity jane #1

Theres not a night that passes where i don’t miss listening to the coyotes singing outside my window. One night i woke and there was a coyote right outside the window, it was so close i could smell it and he gave out a deep solemn howl. It scared the shit outta me at first, but it was so hauntingly beautiful that i shall never forget it and i will always hope to hear them in the night again. Now, it’s a remembrance of home.