Moments is a work in progress. The idea was to publish a new short story every Friday in 2021, starting on 8 January. This is a large and demanding task, and half a year has gone by succesfully. At…
The audience was still stomping and clapping, calling his name. It annoyed him slightly. What did they want from him? The same old songs he’d played for years on end? The same banter between the songs? I wrote this one after… blah, blah, blah.
Sagt er að á Jónsmessu geti kýr talað, álfkonur freisti manna og selir breytist í menn. Jón fór til hvílu, en honum varð lítið um svefn þessa nóttina.
According to Icelandic tradition, on the night of Summer Solstice, cows can speak, seals turn into humans and rolling in the morning dew will bring good fortune.
We did not turn on the lights at night, as you probably expect of our sort. Neither did we slam doors or look through the windows from the outside. Never did we rearrange jars in the kitchen or throw furniture around. We are not like that.
Waking up to a thundering headache, it took a while for my eyes to adjust, yet I couldn’t place where I was. Never been here before. Music played somewhere.
If a book is good, or at least popular, chances are that someone will make a film based on it. But how often does the reverse happen? Under the Black Sand wasn’t meant to be a novel. It started as a short film. I wrote the screenplay in the Netherlands, where I live, but the […]
De oude windmolen stond aan de andere kant van het dorp. Marloes volgde het pad, legde de fiets naast het hek. Zij trok een oud luik open en legde de wapens neer.
I have been thinking about a new novel, now that Under the Black Sand is complete and online. All kinds of ideas fly in and around my head. But the moment I sit down at the computer, they vanish. Like the screen was radiating some erazor beams from space. So I need to find a […]
2021 will be a year of great triumph or a massive failure. I have dedicated myself to writing one short story every week. Really short and simple stories, 1000 words or thereabouts. But every week.
The end of WW2 is fascinating. Much more twisted and less clean than most will imagine. A simple search into most historical events reveal details that completely change our perception. History is indeed written by the victors. So, here is a short example of clean cut events that turn out to be anything but straightforward. […]
I haven’t written in a while. Been busy working, playing guitar badly and I did start work on translating Under the Black Sand into my native Icelandic language. A couple of days ago, a (presumably lovely) lady from Argentina offered to translate the Sand into Spanish. I read the contract (a major undertaking) and decided […]
Growing up in the shadow of the atomic bomb was an odd experience. I remember sitting in a sand box, playing with a plastic shovel. Possibly eating the black volcanic sand. Another kid said the Russians had more bombs than the Americans. That was scary, because the Russians were the enemy. He said they could […]