What do I want, what do I want?
I’ve never thought about it. A grand-dad? A grand-mother who aren’t so mysterious and silent about what happened?
Somehow I always run into the wrong guys. They start out being oh, so strong, but they always end up running for their mother’s skirt.
So what do I want? Nothing. Nah, that’s not true. I want a strong, handsome and interesting man. A man who isn’t afraid to contradict me. A man I can trust. Faithful. Loyal.
Santa Claus, in other words. Such a man doesn’t exist.
I want my neighbor to be safe. I’ve heard her boyfriend yell at her in a strange foreign language. Or ex-husband. She says they were married, but she left him, and he doesn’t accept it.
Another unhappy marriage.
That’s about it. Easy. World peace, a strong, handsome and loyal husband, and for my neighbor to feel fine and free.
What am I afraid of? Let’s see:
- driving too fast
- handsome men
- not being believed
- a threat to my family
- losing my mind
- getting old
- not getting old
- being bitter
- doing something clumsy
When I was around five years old, I went with my father to work sometimes, and I always loved that they offered me a typewriter and paper.
That white paper… all those possibilities!
A year or so later, my parents gave me a light-brown typewriter made out of plastic. One of those things that was made for children.
With it I typed stories and fairy tales and used my imagination. Later I got a real typewriter (still not electric, though) and I kept typing.
My biggest dream was to become a writer.
High-school killed my imagination, but I discovered a new-found love for writing non-fiction.
For several years, though, I almost didn’t write. I worked in a bank for six month, studied medicine, worked in a supermarket, worked as a childminder, as a secretary and book keeper for a lawyer, before I finally dropped my day-job for good and started to write books.
My books were non-fiction books, and they were published through a couple of Danish publishing houses.
I also sold two short stories (out of the three I wrote) to two of the biggest Danish magazines.
Until recently that was the only fiction I could boast about, because I struggled to write a novel. That’s all over and done with, luckily.
I grew up in Denmark (and Germany for 3 years), but in 2000 I left to live in France. We stayed there until June 2011, where my husband, son, cat, dog and I moved to Israel.
When I write today, I have a view over the blue see, the blue sky and the ever-shining sun.