Category Archives: Writing

These are posts where I share myself as a writer.

The beauty of fragments

November 11, 2014Books I write, Contemplationsvica

I used to moan about availability only of separate fragments in our memories, with many and sometimes large gaps in-between. We have a number of stories saved inside our heads, which we tell again and again. Time to time, some lost stories come to surface, but there is no continuous recording up there in our brains.

As a writer, I recently realized the blessing of such fragmentary memory. If we would have a capability for continuous memory, two things would happen. First, our brains would be too full at some point and nothing else would fit in there. And the second, what would be fatal for me as a reader, the books would appear quite unbelievable, because without gaps it would never be possible to fit a whole story into a book.

I realized this just before finishing my very first novel last week. It was very gratifying to realize this. Also because my book is based on a true story and I had only fragments of it available to base my novel upon. With this insight, writing of the end went faster and smoother.

And now I am enjoying editing my first book and working on my next. I will inform you on the progress as soon as any of these go into the next stage.

The plans are the following: my second child will come into this world this year, and next year my very first novel-child will see the world.

Picture: What a blessing to have pictures to fill in the memory gaps. Together with notes in diaries they can bring some wonderful discoveries about our pasts. I completely forgot about this zoo visit in May. It was a wonderful day!

In his own words

November 3, 2014A mother's diaryvica

I accompanied Niklas to vaccination and the four-year-check to the doctor’s today.

He did cry a bit during vaccination, because it did hurt, but he was truly in the moment, also right after the vaccination, accepting the praise for being so brave. He did calm down fast and said shortly afterwards that it didn’t hurt anymore.

Then we went to the doctor’s for the health check. When Niklas got measured in height, I got completely excited. My son is 105 cm tall! Now he could go for the carrousels and adventures in the leisure parks, which he wanted so much before but couldn’t attend because he was smaller than 104 cm. Now he is hundred and five!

Niklas didn’t quite understand the number, but by seeing my reaction he also got all excited. He tried to remember the number several times and then gave up by saying, “You will tell Papa how big I am when he comes home.”

After some time though he found his own definition for his height: “I am big up to the head!”

He also said, “Mama, you are not big up to the head anymore, you are bigger. The adults cannot be big up to the head. Only big children can. And I am a boy, you are not a boy.”

“No,” I said, “I am a woman and I was a girl when I was small.”

“Yes, and I am not a girl, I am a boy. And I will be …”

I helped. “A man when you grow up.”

“Yes, I will be a man.” After a pause, my very proud boy asked, “When is Papa back [from his business trip], so that I can tell him that I am big up to the head?”

Picture: my big boy jumping from big heights.

They will always be back

October 28, 2014Contemplations, Discoveries, Favorite quotesvica

About a week and a half ago I went to buy flowers and found this plaque at the florist’s nearby:

I laughed out loud and realized how transformational this clever combination of phrases is.

I bought this plaque immediately. I had to have it! To make me smile, but also to remind me of the tricks my mind often plays on me.

When I experience transformation and a worry or an upset resolves, I think: “This is it, I’ve made it! This worry will not come back anymore! I am soooo good!” And so on and so on.

And then five minutes later, usually less, the worrying thought comes back. Often from another and much unexpected angle.

This used to irritate me. But awareness, transformation and many illustrations by Ariel and Shya Kane in their books, seminars and online (http://www.transformationmadeeasy.com/ ) helped me to realize that these thoughts are mere pre-recordings from my past life and will always appear when something unexpected is happening.

Life always comes in unexpected ways. So I might as well expect these thoughts appear again and again. They will appear in one form or another. And searching a reason for their appearance will not solve the problems I imagine and associate with them, however my brain will try to convince me otherwise.

This plaque is a true gift, because every time I looked at it during the ten days or so since I have it, it never failed to make me laugh and relax.

I send grateful thoughts to its creator. And hugs and love to all who read this.

A lovely day

October 21, 2014A mother's diaryvica

Today was one of those days full of “all those little matters on which the daily happiness of private life depends” (A quote from “Emma” by Jane Austen, which I found quoted in the book “101 Things You Didn’t Know About Jane Austen” by Patrice Hannon).

One of the possible reasons for this wonderful day was surely because it was illuminated by one big happy event. My son’s birthday. I have a big and very proud boy of four years. As the card, which he got from my mother today says, he “can do now all those things, which [he] could not do when [he] was three years old”. This makes him immensely happy and proud. He confirmed this by a happy sigh today and saying: “Oh, I am so happy!”

This happy event of my son’s birthday led to many sweet calls and greetings from our family and friends, from Germany, Denmark and even France.

And of course a big party in the kindergarten. On our way from downtown, where we celebrated his day in his favourite restaurant, home, Niklas sang to us songs his friends sang to him in the kindergarten including all the “Hurray!” exclamations interpreted by him with much enthusiasm, as well as a song he sang as a thank-you answer to them. He even translated those songs for us by singing them in German. I suspect, with a smile on my face, that he composed at least parts of those songs as he sang them to us.

Picture: all the small things and special attentions surrounding this special day made us, his parents, extremely happy and proud. This colourful greeting met Niklas and us today on the kindergarten’s entrance door.

Two strangers, two smiles, two unforgettable memories

October 14, 2014Memories, Portraits, True Storyvica

Algiers Airport,

Summer 1981

One bench. Many people. Among them two mothers and two girls. Mothers speak different languages. Each girl can understand the language of her own mother. Not of the other.

One girl is me. The other is blond with big blue eyes.

She looks at me. She shrugs. And smiles.

I smile back.

She shows me what she has in her hands. It’s a small toy.

I look down at my hands and see small unused stickers of animals with moving eyes. I show them to her.

We exchange the objects in our hands. We examine them and make playful movements with them. We exchange glances. We smile.

An announcement. My mother stands up and gathers our bags.

Another announcement. My friend’s mother stands up and gathers their bags.

The blue-eyed girl and I give back our toys to each other.

We smile. We wave. We go away.

I still remember you and your smile, my dear friend of several minutes.

Copenhagen Airport,

Spring 2009

I walk through the busy hall. Small, colorful shops at my left. I pass a stall with soft drinks and snacks at my right.

Someone looks at me.

I raise my head and see a woman with dark long hair in red sari.

A friend or a relative of hers in green sari is busy searching for money in her bag.

The woman in red looks at me. And smiles.

I am confused. I feel my forehead unfolding and corners of my mouth widen into a smile.

I walk by. Still smiling.

The woman in red sari accompanies me the whole day. I see her eyes and her smile, every time she appears in my thoughts.

She still appears time to time in most unexpected moments. And then I smile.

***

Two strangers. Two smiles. Two unforgettable memories. They warm my heart through the years. Every time they appear. And they always appear when my smile makes other people smile.

Picture: My sweet little stranger I discover every day. “Mama, make a picture of me, when I look the other way.”