Tag Archives: writing

Happy first day of spring, everybody!

20 Mar

This morning I unwrapped the balcony plants. The tiny apple tree has started growing leaves already, and to my neverending surprise neither the lavender plant nor the verveine have died. The avocado tree hasn’t made it, unfortunately. I do have kind of a brown thumb, to be honest.

Spring manifests in other ways as well – I feel a strong urge to purge our apartment, get rid of all kinds of stuff and downsize resp. redecorate. For some time I have been trying to get rid of one unnecessary item per day, such as old clothes, kitchen utensils we never use or decoration. I am a knick-knack horder, and all our shelves are filled with tiny puppets, poppets and gadgets. Some things are given away to people who will appreciate them, others are donated to good causes, and the rest is thrown out. (Germans are masters of recycling, so don’t worry … we have containers for papers, bottles and old clothing on almost every street corner, and every household separates their trash anyway, it’s mandatory – the only thing I miss is a trash can for biodegradable waste, which is optional and which our landlady won’t order because of the costs (and because many people think that these trash cans are especially disgusting … ah well).) Also I have started some major cleaning endeavors, such as foam-cleaning our matresses and shephearding all kinds of blankets and pillows through the washing machine. It’s kind of scary, and I hope this urge goes back to sleep soon.

And I feel the need to eat tons of green stuff – salads, tiny carrots and tomatoes, all kinds of fruit. You name it, I’ll eat it. In winter I prefer soups and stews and potato-laden dishes that are warming and filling, but now I would rather increase my intake of raw plants. Of course this means I have to get to the grocery store more than once per week, for many things don’t keep that long in an average kitchen. Took a BLT salad with some extra chicken (for yummy protein) to the office for lunch today.

Last Friday we did our first official run of the year as well – a 7.5 kilometer run around a lake in Cologne, with the paths lit by torches and a tiny celebration afterwards. We did not stay long, instead drove home and fell asleep on a heap of blankest spread out across the living room floor. That’s my favorite way to spend the weekend.

What else is new? Oh, I have started translating “School of Fire” for you, the fifth of Helena’s magical adventures behind the mountains. The series is intended to end after the ninth book, and by now I even do know where everything is headed. I am currently writing book six in German and hope to get the English and the German version out at the same time. Translating means an extra editing round, after all.

Makes any sense? No? Ah well, stuff happens. Gotta get back to bread-winning, and later curl up on the sofa (freshly cleaned) with some zucchini in tomato and feta cream, served with smoked trout. This witch knows how to spring-party. ^^

Body Poetry

16 Jan

In honor of trying new things, I have written a haiku on my Sunday adventures:

Ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch

Ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch

Ouch ouch – Pilates

Have a great week!

Minor redecorations

2 Dec

You probably haven’t noticed, but I have redecorated my pages a bit. Listed und “Quilts and feathers”, you can now read a short sample of each of my “Magic behind the mountains” books. Just saying. ^^

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SKINNED Cover preview

23 Sep

Skinned Front Cover

Has it really been this long?

16 Sep

I am so sorry! Of course I had to push myself into uncountable projects head over heels, with no plan or structure, and everything has been suffering because of it. Not complaining, I love my life, but with only 24 hours in every day and the occasional potty break there are some things I tend to forget. Such as blogging.

One of the things I have been busy with is the translation of “Witch’s Skin”, the third novel in the series “Magic behind the mountains”. I love revisiting my own stories, but with so little time to get everything done of course progress is slow. When the first draft is done I will return to polishing the German version of the fourth novel, then polish the translation of “Witch’s Skin” and try to catch all errors so you can read it in time. I hope you are at least a tiny bit excited!

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Early morning walk impressions.

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Tiny Yellow Duck got into trouble at a theme park.

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Ronja testing homemade cheese popcorn. I know, usually I don’t give her cheese because of the lactose (cats can’t digest it and may go blind if ingesting too much), but I had used old parmesan, which has hardly any lactose at all.

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Using oats with blueberries as an excuse to eat even more lemon curd.

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Remember these darlings? I got them for myself as a birthday present two years ago. AFter some polishing they still look as good as new.

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And this year (prematurely, my birthday is still almost two months away) they got support. Nothing beats a good pair of boots when it comes to ass-kicking!

Now you got some impressions of my adventures. Mostly food, of course. Oooooh, and I am thinking about a new fun project I don’t have time for, but that’s so far off it might just as well not be true at all. ^^

Full days – full of magic and tentacles

9 Jun

Time flies by when you are having fun. Or when you’re busy trying not to drown in all your plans, actions, appointments, must-dos, …

As usual, I am busy working, writing and running. Also, I am eating tons of strawberries and planning more stories to tell – as soon as I have the time for it. One of them will contain this funny fellow:

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This is Bob. He is a tentacle alien from another dimension – and a stand-up comedian. I hope to find out, over the course of the next months, how he and Lusty Andrea are trying to save the world from a tentacle invasion.

Introduce your muse: A day by the sea

10 Apr

How better to introduce my muse than to show you what she does to me? This is the start of “Witch’s Skin” – the scene that turned an idea I had had for ages into an actual story. Some people claim their muse speaks to them, or sings. Mine shows me stuff. She takes me to places I would never go on my own, puts me into other people’s heads and makes me roar with laughter when I realize that the solution to all my writing problems has been waiting in her claws all along. And now I will let her take you on a journey…

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Source (Dieter Draxel)

Imagine a day by the sea.

Cloud bellies are caressing the ocean close to the horizon. Wet veils are riding the waves. A pungent smell of salt water and algae takes your breath away. Maybe seagulls are screaming in the distance, but it is hard to tell against the roaring of the ocean. Wave by wave attacks the shore. Returning to their siblings, they leave faint changes in the landscape.

Imagine the wind pressing against your naked body. You are alone. Behind you, giant cliffs are soaring towards the sky. The beach is only a few paces wide. You have left your belongings secured safely behind a few rocks to keep it from being swept away. There is no need to be afraid of thieves. This is a hiding place for lovers and those that need solitude, hardly to be reached by land.

This is the safety you need. Sea spray engulfs your body. A wave licks across your legs, reaching your knees, and you shudder. The cold leaves the fine hair on your arms standing on end. You realize how open you are to everything, how vulnerable. The wind tears your hair. Every time he rests, a warm caress rises from the water surface. you feel protected, accepted. Nothing can happen to you in this place. Your plights hardly ever allow you a day spent here, on your own, crept away from duties and watching eyes. This is what makes your moments at the beach so valuable.

In the west, fingers of sunlight stab holes into the clouds. Soon night will fall. For hours you have been on your own, except for the birds in the distance. You fall back onto the wet sand. Tiny crystals stick to your skin. A wave washes over you, tickling the inside of your thigh. You come up for air, and water enters your mouth and nose. The ocean lifts you from the sand, and for a moment you are weightless. As the fingers of the waves retreat, you find yourself missing them. They are familiar. The wind sweeps over you like a hungry lover. At the same time the last trickles of water under your body return to the sea. Your back leaves an impression in the sand. Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you see the next wave racing towards you, knocking the wind out of your body, and suddenly you have had enough. You jump up, and the watery fingers only reach your ankles. With sand clinging to your hair, your hurry back into the protective embrace of the cliffs.

Approximately three quarters of the world are covered by salt water, or that is what they have told you. It is your natural element. Dry land is forbidden to you. You do not think about having to go home soon. Every moment in your hidden cove is an eternity in itself, like the dream of a sleeping sea snake. As long as she does not move, you are safe.

The clouds are turning darker – blue, purple, almost black, with sulfur edges. Lighning tears the sky, kissing the waves in the distance. Then it starts to rain. Fine needles stab your skin and wash sand from your hair and shoulders. The ocean smell dissipates, leaving behind another scent, of fresh water and green grass. Suddenly you start missing home. You run towards the waves once more, throwing yourself at the ocean. At the end of summer the water has been kissed by sun and is warm like blood. Its whooshing is a magic song, a siren call meant just for you. A strand of hair sticks to your face, almost black with wetness, pouring a salty rivulet over your parched lips. The rain grows stronger, increasing the temperature difference of air and water. Thunder reverberates through your bones. You throw your head back and float, just a second, before your feet touch the soft ground again. You know it is time to leave. Time to return to everyday duties, far from adventures and magical borders. Your other personality engulfs you like a custom-tailored dress. You leave the cove, never looking back even once.

And now imagine all this is taken from you.

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By the way, “Witch’s Skin” is the third of Helena’s adventures with “Magic behind the mountains”. I have barely just started translating, so please don’t hold your breath – I don’t want you to pass out! Why don’t you go and read “All Souls’ Children” and “Mirror Lake” for now? ^^