Just Think For A Minute, Would You?

Stop. Just drop everything you’ve got in your hands. Just stop. Look around and clear your mind. Do you notice anything special?

That’s what I thought. You may just look at the words I’ve written, wondering what I thought. Think once more. Did it hit you now? No, you are probably wondering what I am talking about. I’m not expecting many to understand what I’m thinking about when I am talking like this. Well, so it may be, but to be honest, I’m writing this because I feel I have to, not because others are expecting this of me. It gives me a chance to write directly from my heart, and so I will do.

I don’t expect there to be a visible red thread in this, but really, I’d rather be honest. There’s been something in my find for quite some time after I watched an interview. Of course, that interview was “just like any other” interview because it was about a serial and how it was made. I watched it because I thought I’d hear what they said and I was curious about the whole thing. It’s a long time since I watched it, but still, there is something about it that I can’t let go. Or rather, there’s a statement I can’t let go.

“We think of ourselves living in peaceful times, and yet, we’re not.”

Does it ring any bells? No, I didn’t expect so. That quote, when you watch the interview, may sound very “random and little important”, but taking everything under one hand, I don’t think so. I believe it’s suitable in more ways than what you imagine. It’s no secret that there’s unkindness out there, and if we look at the news, where would you begin? No, this is not what I am thinking about when I hear this quote. Well, I think about it, but that’s not what occupies my mind. Not really.

When I look around myself now, that quote comes to my mind at once. It seems to me, that everything has changed this summer. Why, I haven’t done any physical stuff like running up a cliff! Going back to the quote, there’s two ways of seeing it; at the physical level and the mental one. If I look at the mental one, I cannot help but nod.

It feels as I’ve drifted away this summer. I have a letter or two as well as an old e-mail I should answer, but I haven’t managed to make myself do so. I cannot remember the last time I poured my heart and was completely honest about everything. Am I lying? No, but I am not telling everything. I believe most of us know that scenario. I simply feel alone.

Nothing is like it was. They say when you’ve got a task at hand, you should finish it. I know the task I embarked on isn’t finished. What hurts the most, is to know that I did all I could. Now, where does the quote come in? Don’t you see it yet?

I’ve been hurt for the smallest things, I’ve wanted to be honest but haven’t dared to, and most important; I don’t know who to go to. I wonder if I am just a big question mark wandering around, because I’m starting to think so myself. In general, have you ever been there when small actions repeated over and over again, can hurt more than a mean word? I don’t expect any answer, all I ask is for somebody else than me to think about it.

Something else that’s been in my mind for a long time is something of what I dislike the most. If you asked me that question three years ago, my answer would still be the same; injustice and indifference. The last one may be the worst one of them. When I am faced with indifference in a way (I may be the only one who see it), I am hurt and angry. I am not a calm person, but my temper isn’t the most tiresome. However, I get angry when I face indifference, and that anger doesn’t go away at once.

“How can you hope to understand loneliness when you’re causing it yourself?”

Just look at that quote. What do you think? Who do you think this person is blaming and who is suffering? Who said it? I’m not going to answer that now because I’ll end here because my goal with this post, was not answers; it was thoughts.

That’s what I’ve got to say.

Writing Challange - Day Four and Five

I am amazingly slow, eh? There’s me in a nutshell. Well, I shall try to catch up with the writing challenge, but if I don’t manage, please bear with me. I believe you know the drill, but to bring it up: The challenge is hosted by Lerowen from Eat...Sleep...Write. A specific subject is to be explored each day (for 15 days) and more information is to be found if you click the link. I thought about taking two days together here; day four and five. Now, if I can come up with some answers that actually can work for something. Oh well, here we go.

Day four - A novel or author that has inspired something in your writing style

I’ve always thought that I was influenced by characters and series when it came to my writing style. I saw something I couldn’t let go of, and brought it to something I wanted to form. From my point of view, that’s always been me. Lately though, I’ve discovered songs and persons I’ve taken under my wing. It may sound odd, but Lord Nathan came from a picture. Yes, a single picture I stumbled over and knew nothing about. To discover who it was; that was a surprise to me because I saw him as my character and my character alone.

But a novel or an author? I always wanted the carefulness of Austen, the melancholy of Dickens, the adventures of Verne, the setting of Forester, the sweetness of Alcott, the feel of Lawhead and the bittersweetness of Lewis. Has this ever made its mark on my work? I doubt it.

I’ve always grasped higher than what I should; having grand drams. The reality never seems to wake me in my dreams. The reality however, can be brutal. I’ve never known how my writing style is because I don’t see it myself. I don’t see things in my own writing before others points it out to me. I fear I cannot tell you who my writing style is inspired by because I doubt it will show, but I can tell who I would love to learn from.

“I cannot tell who it was, but I know there several of them there.”

And then we've got more!

Day Five - Your least favorite character you've written

Seeing this question, I just want to turn into Smirkana. I thought this question would be hard to answer, but thinking about it; not really. The question can mean so much; am I thinking about how hard they were to write or that I dislike their personality? There are many characters that I’ve wanted to throw out of the window, but there is one character that really stands out. Not many have met her, and nobody knows who she really is. I’ve kept silent about her character because I don’t want to say too much, but that’s not all; I can’t stand her.

Oh yes, we’re talking about Lady Lucy. For those who can recall her name, she is the person James met by the door. Now, why do I dislike her that much? To begin with, she is hard to write. It’s hard to place the words correctly because not only is she an important character; she’s a character with two sides. I want the sides to be recognizable in her, but I also want to hide them. It’s so much harder than what I thought it would be, but I cannot change her character. Then I would ruin everything. I also believe I find her hard to write since there is something in her I can see in the daily life. To point it out in a clever way; how does one do so? I don’t want to say it right out, but I don’t want to make it too obvious either.

She may be seen as a very sweet person, but I don’t see her like that. No, even though she’s far from evil, I can’t make myself like her. I believe one of the reasons I disk lie her, is because (almost) everybody else in my story likes her. Am I jealous? No, I’m not. However, I believe I’ve seen both of her sides and I believe her position is unfair. Justice is one of the repeating themes I believe she’s an example of how, we as humans, can be wrong about others. I admit I may be a bit angry at the blindness of the other characters in terms of seeing Lucy, but I let the anger lead to her. She’s the example of the blindness, and the blindness upset me in the daily life.

Now you may ask me, is this enough to dislike a person as much as I do? Probably not, but that’s because it’s not everything. I’m afraid I cannot say more than this, but it will be revealed. Just wait.

“You keep turning to them, but when you have turned away, they don’t seem to care much.”

Writing Challange - Day Three

And its day I’m-Not-Quite-Sure-So-We-Begin-To-Bend-The-Rules. Really, I haven’t posted for the last few days, so I’m just trying to hand on as well as I can. I only bend the rules a little bit so I can catch up. As always: The challenge is hosted by Lerowen from Eat...Sleep...Write. A specific subject is to be explored each day (for 15 days) and more information is to be found if you click the link.

Day Three - Your first Attempt at Writing

I’ve never said I had many memories from the time I was a little girl, walking around and being happy. There weren’t many of those days, but if I dig down into my memories, I may be able to come up with something. This challenge made me do so, and with the question, I almost have to laugh at myself.

My first attempt on writing; it’s a vague memory. I remember walking around as a young girl; I had my nose in books the whole time. People laughed at me, but I had the words. I dreamt about creating grand worlds with wizards and talking beats; magic and happiness. Those memories are maybe the merriest I can remember from that time. I longed after being in the top, grasping after the perfect words. Oh, I was going to be as great as my heroes. I grasped higher than what I should have, but I didn’t see that I never would reach the top. The plans were unfolding.

I believe I have memories of me trying to write something with my terrible handwriting or sticky keyboard. I can’t say I remember mush of the story because there isn’t any copy of it, but the heroes fought against the bad ones and the goodness would win. There would be happiness everywhere around. I’m fairly sure I was the main character in my story (see, my ego is growing more and more). In the story, I was happy.

Now you may ask; what happened to the bad guys? They never got their punishment. When everything was well, they were forgotten. I never punished them because I didn’t feel for doing so. Everything was well and I was pleased. However, I’m more than glad the story is gone. It’s carrying more bittersweet memories than what I wish to remember. Anyway, I’m sure I would have thrown it to Hugo and Bullemi so they could eat it.

Oh yes, everything begins somewhere, but not always with a bang.

Writing Challange - Day Two

Well, here I am, trying to type up a reply for the writing challenge. To begin with, a small summary: The challenge is hosted by Lerowen from Eat...Sleep...Write. A specific subject is to be explored each day (for 15 days) and more information is to be found if you click the link. O.< Well, since I am beginning this today, I shall do the first two questions and this post is dedicated to the first post.

Day Two - Your favorite male author.

For the second day, the question was about my favorite male author. How does one reply? Some authors have a beautiful writing style, while others have brilliant stories. Some authors may have strong characters while others have strong descriptions of the visible. Some of them are downright depressing but good, while others are hilarious but not captivating. However, I am just allowed to mention one man.

Who will that man be? Well, he’s maybe the author I’ve followed for as long as I can remember. I don’t remember when I realized how brilliant he was, but it must have been a long time ago. Some days ago, I found an old notebook. It was filled with my notes, page up and page down with proper writing and analyze; all about the author. His books have been a comfort to me more often than what a book shall comfort a person. They've been my safe place for years, but I don't believe anybody can understand it because nobody wants to be there.

His works are funny and yet, more thoughtful than what they eye can see. The wit plays an important role, but it’s used for a purpose. His pen is sharper than the sword, and the descriptions are enough to make their marks not only in a book, but in generations. It’s enjoyable to read his works, and I believe both adults and children will agree. However, he also brings in Christian theology in a way that allows us to understand and wonder.

Never have I adored and author as much as this one, but it’s for a reason. One day, if it will be possible, I wish to grasp a little of his talent. He may be dead, but he’s fully alive on my bookshelf. Why?

Because he is C.S. Lewis.

Writing Challange - Day One

A writing challenge and I am involved; seek shelter. No, last time has been… Special and I believe I need to do something and try to be focused and just concentrate. That is why I wanted to do this challenge. Selfish as it may be; I need it.

The challenge is hosted by Lerowen from Eat...Sleep...Write. A specific subject is to be explored each day (for 15 days) and more information is to be found if you click the link. O.< Well, since I am beginning this today, I shall do the first two questions and this post is dedicated to the first post.

Day one: Your Favourite character you have written

If somebody asks me the question of the favorite character I’ve written (just like now), I am not quite sure what to reply. Which character does other think it will be? I admit there are especially two characters I am very attached to for various reasons, but I suppose they only want me to say one name. (It’s day one; I should wait with bending the rules.) Both of them are not as they seem, and I doubt others even can say why. Why you ask? Well, because nobody knows them for their true soul. Of course, I shall have to pick one.

The one; it must be Lord Nathan. To see who he really is, I believe he must be with Ewan. However, there’s something so annoyingly about him because I don’t manage to ignore him. He jumped into my story and claimed his place; he gave me more trouble that necessary and enjoyed it and he became a friend. How do you explain a man like him?

It’s safe to say that he’s odd, his humor is terrible and he gets annoyed over details such as his boots. Still, nobody has seen him in the grand picture. He’s far from flawless, but he is himself. As soon as I saw him, I knew who I wanted him to be. I didn’t want him to be just a good friend; I wanted him to be a human. I wanted to give him a soul and tell his story.

His story is maybe not the merriest, funniest or most depressing one, but so it may be. His story is something that defines him and his choices. He’s humble, but not stupid. He’s stubborn, but just. He can be angry, but not evil. Nathan does what he does because he believes it is right. Still, he has so much more to do and if you look at all this; he may just be my favorite character. It’s so odd because I don’t see that much of myself in him. I see something in him, but I don’t think I understand it myself. It’s hard to tell who Lord Nathan is, but that’s some of the magic, isn’t it?

He may suffer, but he suffers for a reason.

In Memory

It’s been some days now, and most of you know the terrible thing that’s happen to Oslo and Utøya in Norway. Words cannot explain how terrible it was. My country and its people are affect, but most of all, it’s the young ones and their freedom who was attacked. As a result, many innocents are now dead and will not return to their homes on this earth. I believe I just have to post something about it because I need to talk about yesterday because I cannot keep it to myself alone.

Yesterday, there was a concert in my city to honor the dead ones and their families. There were speeches and song. We are under 50.000 citizens here; 15.000 to 18.000 people met to the concert. That’s one of three and even more. We walked from my school, down to the city itself and up to the park. We may have walked for ten to fifteen minutes and when we got to the park, not everybody had started walking yet because there were so many. In addition to this, everybody carried roses.

To see the flag on half mast; it really broke my heart. One cannot explain it and I wasn’t even in Oslo or on Utøya. I didn’t lose any family members and the one that was on Utøya; she survived. The concert, I believe, was beautiful. At the end, Halvdan Sivertsen, the most well known artist from my city, came up to the stage and sang this. It’s a song about freedom, equality and hope. It’s everything the murderer is against. Words cannot explain how beautiful it was to watch him sing and have all the others around you, singing it with him. Everybody knew the song and sang, waving their roses. Several thousands stood together united in love.

I just wanted to post this because this tragedy is something you can’t imagine. I am weeping for the ones affected. Death is a terrible thing and murder is even worse. We may be few, but we will not break. May God be with the ones that suffers and take care of those in need. We in Norway are standing together, united in love.

I wanted to post this because I believe this is something to think about. “When a man can show so much hatred, think about how much love we can show.”

Thank you.

Destiny and Sweethearts

Well, as some of you may have noticed, I am home again. My family and I came home today from Crete, and dear, how good it feels to be back. There is so much I have to say and tell, but where to begin? What more is; the news. I’m sure all of you have seen what’s happened in Oslo and at Utøya. I don’t know what to say except that my country is weeping. It’s terrifying and one simply doesn’t know what to think because neither does you understand it or believe it. At Crete, we’ve been sitting watching the BBC news since it happened and we’ve continued to follow them now at home. My thoughts and prayers are going to everyone affected by this gruesome act and their families. May God protect them.

I don’t rely have much to say about myself for now because I simply don’t feel for throwing it on the blog. However, while we were on Crete, I’ve been scribbling on Sails. (And something else because I have a new story taking shape in my mind, but that’s not important.) It’s a part I’ve had in my mind for such a long time, but the words haven’t come until now. I need to edit it, but I just wanted to put it up here.


Ewan looked up at the ceiling. It was nearly impossible to spot the lines on them; some of them indicating age and others indicating history. Lying on the bench wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it would be well enough for now. The candles flicked there they stood, trying to light the dark room. He drew a deep breath before he broke the heavy silence. “When I get old, I want to own something great that money can’t buy.”

Nathan, sitting at the end of them small table, looked up from his papers but held the pen in a firm grip. “That sounds nice,” he said at last.

“What do you want?” Ewan asked, still looking up. “And no, peace and quiet is not an accepted answer, whether you like it or not.”

Mr. Heverrick smiled to himself before looking into the air with a dreamy glance. “When I grow old, I want to be happy. I want to know that I did something worth doing and that somebody else appreciated my actions and my words; to know that my life had a value. Then I shall be at pace, I believe.”

“Hmm.” The tone in Ewan’s voice urged his friend to continue.

“But before I grow old,” Nathan began but broke himself off. He swallowed once or twice before doing as Ewan wanted him to do. “Before I grow old, I want to sail to the western sea. I believe that would be the grandest adventure I could embark on now as a mortal soul.”

Ewan didn’t reply at once. He seemed to be thinking. “Do you believe we’ll ever get that far?” The question hung in the air.

Nathan noticed the insecurity in the voice and looked down at the drying letters and the spread ink spots. “If it’s our destiny, I believe we will. However, I think we should be thankful for the fact that our destinies are unknown to us. Not only wouldn’t we be able to live in the moment, but how would we then trust God’s guidance? He may guide us in the oddest directions, but no matter if we want to understand it or not, it is to our best. The events will change us and I believe that may be God’s plan. We’re changing in Him. His guidance us more than what we ever could have asked for, and behold, we’ve got even more.”

The scraping of his pen filled the room. The white feather went from side to side together with Nathan’s eyes as he followed the letters being shaped. At the sound at its end meeting the paper, Ewan swallowed and opened his mouth once more. “Does it ever happen to you, Nathan, that you miss your village and family? And the people you knew there?” Not getting any reply but the scraping, he continued. “Did you ever have any sweetheart back in England?”

Nathan stopped writing but said nothing. Memories rushed back to him, but he forced himself to speak. His voice was calmer than what he thought it would be. “No, I wouldn’t say so.” He thought over his reply for some seconds. “No, she was just a friend.”

Ewan sat up and looked over his shoulder. “But you cared a great deal about her, didn’t you?” A nod acknowledged the statement. “Have you written to her?”

“Yes, I have.” Hadn’t it been for the darkness and dim light, anybody could have noticed the redness creeping up Nathan’s chin and how it ended by his hair. The pen started to flow over a paper once more, quicker than what it had so far. “She hasn’t replied. As I said, she was only a friend.”

They were both brought to silence once more. It’s safe to say that Ewan felt guilty of making this man think about something he apparently wished to forget. Seeing how grave his face was, Ewan was desperate of changing the subject of the half-baked disaster the conversation had gained. “You mentioned something about destinies and I believe I know our destiny at the moment; it calls for food.”

A shout from above them interrupted him and his grin vanished.


And that’s what I have to post for now. I’m just walking around myself for various reasons.