An update ...

I suddenly realized it's been almost 3 months since I posted anything on this blog. That's no good. So I am hereby "waking it up".

We have had a very busy summer. Thankfully it was a cold and rainy summer, so the weather favoured work. In July we finished first draft of a new childrens book - more to come about that later. We've written four so far, and they have been very short and easy to write (because they were short). They were also part of an in-house series concisting of easy-to-read books. The new one is different  because we are no longer part of a series where more than on writer contributes with books, we are now to write our own series! Also this book is about 2-3 times longer than the previoues books. A real challenge. The next draft is due in November. We are very excited about the new project, it's been so fun to work on it, still is. The book will be published in March, and then the next before Christmas.

I'm hard a work at my new series, the sixth book was just published, one more to go before Christmas. I have the most wonderful illustrator for the series. The picture is from book 5: Dreams and Lies.

A little Sikh history ...

We are working obsessively with our newest project, and in the meantime ....
BBC's documentaries rock!

Ray Bradbury (1920-2012)

My small tribute to one of the truly great ones: Ray Bradbury 1920-2012

I have a copy of Ray Bradburys essays on writing in my book shelf: Zen in the Art of Writing (1990). When I despair of writing, tired of trying to come up with something new, fed up with looking for the «good idea», I pull it out. It's a small book, just 174 pages, loaded with inspiration.

In his essays he writes stuff like this: Your Thing at the top of your stairs in your own private night ... may well come down.

The first of his books that I read was The Illustrated man. The guy who slept beside a fire, covered in tattoos that lived their own lives and told stories (nobody with a tattooed body these days, come even close to beeing that interesting). Fahrenheit 451 was another amazing read. What book would I choose to memorize if I lived in a society that burned books? (For me it was Jane Eyre then and now).

I found his books at my local library where I went almost every day and read at least one book before going home, loaded with ten others.

“I have never listened to anyone who criticized my taste in space travel, sideshows or gorillas. When this occurs, I pack up my dinosaurs and leave the room.”

“Don't think. Thinking is the enemy of creativity. It's self-conscious and anything self-conscious is lousy. You can't "try" to do things. You simply "must" do things.”

On e-books:

“I still love books. Nothing a computer can do can compare to a book. You can't really put a book on the Internet. Three companies have offered to put books by me on the Net, and I said, 'If you can make something that has a nice jacket, nice paper with that nice smell, then we'll talk.' All the computer can give you is a manuscript. People don't want to read manuscripts. They want to read books. Books smell good. They look good. You can press it to your bosom. You can carry it in your pocket.” Fahrenheit 451

I learned from him that if I wanted to be a writer – and I did – I had to write every day – I was already doing that back then and I do it today: Christmas Eve, New Years Eve and every other «Eve» there is. If I don't write my pages every day, I get restless and snap at people. Usually someone comes and stick a notebook and a pen under my nose, or gently pushes me into the office, turns on the computer and quietly close the door behind them. They may also bring coffee ...

“If you want to write, if you want to create, you must be the most sublime fool that God ever turned out and sent rambling. You must write every single day of your life. You must read dreadful dumb books and glorious books, and let them wrestle in beautiful fights inside your head, vulgar one moment, brilliant the next. You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads. I wish you a wrestling match with your Creative Muse that will last a lifetime. I wish craziness and foolishness and madness upon you. May you live with hysteria, and out of it make fine stories — science fiction or otherwise. Which finally means, may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world.”


I have to read his books again now.

17th of May - Constitution Day

I sit at my desk, ready to work - a bit delayed to be honest - and think about Constitution day. For me it's been a quiet day, celebrated with good food and good friends. 17th of May is a childrens' day,with unlimited icecream and soda, cakes and sweets. A day we wave our flags and sing our rather pompous national songs. This year its a little different. We're in the middle of the 22nd of July court case, and on some level it was nice to take a day off from it all. I feel for everyone directly involved in this, and I hope something like this never happens anywhere else.

On a lighter note:

This is from the backyard of my house, I'm the cry-baby in the middle. I was never one for wearing skirts and dressing up. I look like I'm about three years old, so it must have been taken in 1964 or 65.

 A few years earlier ...

This is the oldest picture of a 17th of May celebtration I could find. From Oslo 1898. Although the celebrations started at least as early as 1823.

From the changing of the flags on 7th of June, 1905 when the Swedish/Norwegian flag was lowered, and the Norwegian flag was up for the first time.

I found this article here: 15 writer's bedrooms ... and I'm just saying, I do not believe writers have bedrooms that tidy. Most of these writers are dead, so presumably somebody went in and tidied it up. I wish someone would do that to my room. Sigh ...

The only one that remotely resembles my bedroom/office belongs to Alexander Masters (haven't read any of his books), and that's on a really, really good day ...

Duma key by Stephen King

DUMA KEY is the engaging, fascinating story of a man who discovers an incredible talent for painting after a freak accident in which he loses an arm. He moves to a 'new life' in Duma Key, off Florida's West Coast; a deserted strip, part beach, part weed-tangled, owned by a patroness of the arts whose twin sisters went missing in the 1920s. Duma Key is where out-of-season hurricanes tears lives apart and a powerful undertow lures lost and tormented souls. Here Freemantle is inspired to paint the amazing sunsets. But soon the paintings become predictive, even dangerous. Freemantle knows the only way forward is to discover what happened to the twin sisters -- and what is the secret of the strange old lady who holds the key? The story is about friendship, about the bond between a father and his daughter. And about memory, truth and art. It is also is a metaphor for the life and inspiration of a writer, and an exploration of the nature, power and influence of fiction.

Yeah, right. Thanks a million.

How can any review top that? Good question. I'm not going to say much, but I'm sure I'll read this again at some point. This is one of those Stephen Kings books that tips over into the literary – although I wouldn't read it before bedtime. I get spooked by King ...

   He has completely ruined rural America for me. I would never dare drive a car there, alone after sundown. And now he's more or less ruined the idea of Florida as well. God knows what lurks in the waters outside the beaches ...

 After reading a book like this, I loose some confidence in my own writing. It passes, but still. It's tempting to pull a «Misery» on him ...

A quote:

Don't quit until det picture's complete. I can't tell you that's the cardinal rule of art or not, I'm no teacher, but I believe those six words sum up all I've been trying to tell you. Talent is a wonderful thing, but it won't carry a quitter. An there always comes a time - if the work is sincere, if it comes from that magic place where thoughtt, memory, and emotion all merge - when you will want to quit, when you will think that if you put your pencil down your eye will dull, your memory will lapse, and the pain will end. I know all this from the last picture I drew that day - the one of the gathering on the beach. It was only a sketch, but I think that when you're mapping hell, a sketch is all you need.

Not literary, my ass ...

New project ...

We are working on a brand new project - something for children - and need to have serious meetings. A grand cup of coffee is a must. So off to town we go ...



My co-writer doesn't take things very serious...

And I'm not very inspired ...

Next time, perhaps not so much coffee?