The early days of a newborn writer.

Days a long time ago I would get up early in the morning with excitement and turn on the coffee brewer for a fresh cup of coffee for the morning session of writing. A cigarett did go nicely along. Back then I had one story in my head, one script to focus on. And I did so for the longest time. Nowadays are much different. Ideas did not stop coming to my mind and while I just wrote the ideas down they would come up in a later day when least expected and as more and more new ideas formed my original once got blurred out to the point where I could no longer write on them. My morning coffee became lunch coffee and afternoon coffee. Less writing got made. I still think back to those days, the passion for the story at hand I could feel. Granted, I had just found writing and I was newly born, eager to do it again and again and for a while nothing else existed.

My early writing was bad – might still be – and I wrote novels, inspired by American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis. But it was not that book that had me started. No. It was no book at all. Back in those days, before the web content sharing platform PirateBay, people used DC++ and I was no different. Surly I downloaded some pornographic content, most of which one did not know what it was until you had watch it. I remember one of those, horrifying. A “classic” boss/secretary-scenario but brutal. This came as a shock to me and I thought to myself after the visit to the bathroom toilet where I sat and almost vomited: I have seen a rape taking place. Today I have found out that the porn actress was called Sophie Evans and was regarded a pro and also that this kind of porn was nothing all that strange on the internet. It took my brain a week to form the early ideas of a novel script and months before the thoughts of sex would not get me sick. All this was more than ten years ago. The story, I back then called Sick Boy (after a song title by Kill Hannah), has now been rewritten three times and are far from seeing a finish day. It’s not even the same story any longer. Reshaped, it has now found the way into the Gardener-series and I believe it’s where it belongs.

I have never really stopped writing. I have just been writing more or less in the periods that followed this one huge day of my life. For better or worse, stage plays. One simple reason: I found my way into the world of theater by chance and I got more and more into writing stage plays. I have written a few as of today, although no one has reach the big public. One turned into a real production. Being a playwright is more of my thing. Writing dialogue and trying to get your actions and story into place through just that I found is just way to exciting. Maybe the theater is to blame to why I have not finished any of my early novels, such as Sick Boy? It does not really matter as long as I am writing the things that get me going.

I still do look back at the early days and I hope to one day feel the same way about writing as I did back then. Writing has become more of just another forced activity which I do very sporadically. Something of note: Writing has so far been the one and only thing I have stucked with for a longer period of time and I do believe I will only stop writing when I am dead.


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