As a bilingual writer with chronic national-existential confusion, I will post stories in both English and Swedish. I will also post chapters for different stories in a arbitrary and carelessly haphazard manner. This page is the strong hand that pulls you back ashore, before you decide to yet again dive into the tempestuous waters of my imagination, and hopes to achieve this by offering a quick overview of my currently active literary projects.
As a writer of integrity and rock-solid character, I'll probably be easily swayed by public opinion. You like a particular story, tell me, and there's a good chance I'll be doubly motivated to produce another chapter.
You find yourself fond of a particular setting? Let me know, and I'll offer up my notes to your author of choice. No? No. But I might consider doing other storylines in the same narrative universe.
Here's some of the stuff you might hope or dread to see chapters from in the coming months:
Buffy likes it slimy (working title, but highly representative): yeah, I just had to include this one, even though there currently is little to say about it, and no chapters posted. But yeah, you're thinking about it. We know what's going on here. Yeah, it's implied, but we all know. Images are arriving into your head with great speed and splashing themselves across yer mind's eye. Yeah. She's totally doing it. With all those appendages and protruding parts. Yeah. And she likes it. You want this stuff. Contact me for my Paypal account...
Multiversimilitude: the grand masters of science fiction and of old might not consider it a homage to be combined in essence with Pratchett and Douglas Adams (especially since the aforementioned might be on the losing side), but this is the basis for Multiversimilitude's conception. Subcultural references and double entendres abound in one woman's struggle for a less ordered galaxy.
The earth fell, as we always knew it would: neither dogs nor vaults comfort or shield the wastelands wanderer from the falling skies. But he might yet find purpose, tears not of his own he long believed lost, and the realization that even legends loose muscle mass when not properly fed...
The thorn on the island of roses: on an island in the eastern sea, a feline takes a stand to hold back the night for the sake of humans who might never know their safety rests in the tiniest paws, shielded from that which slithers towards the light by no more than a set of small, sharp green eyes, tiny curved claws, and a heart as large and tumultuous as the ocean that surrounds them all...
To ninja, with relentlessness and abandon: after a long working day, filled to the brim with the creation of unique content and revolutionary material, it's good to kick back and be highly derivative. So, ninjas. And they live in settlements shielded from the eyes of peasant and emperor alike. And they leap from tree to tree, accept missions that never seem to require any actual assassination and otherwise ninja-like activities, and make use of weird japanesque powers for the most unsuitable of purposes. But that's where the similarities end. For the ninjas are really guardians, the village is not really hidden, the powers are not really powerful, the missions are not really missive, and the world is not really that simple. Not for reasons measurable or calculable, but for all that which we cannot see, will not confront, and hope we never will have to know for certain. And when the night again grows long, the woods are filled with a lonely and distant piping. And in its wake, the unmeasurable follows...
Tullochgorum: an experiment in form and style, but simultaneously one of my most extensive and ambitious projects. A work in swedish, but all the more international in style and content, Tullochgorum deals with the coming, or perhaps return, of something, but more importantly, how the world and its people react to whatever something might be surfing in from the other side. If that's not pretentious enough for you, then how about this: in Tullochgorum, the story is the form, and the form is the story.
But yeah, the world in disarray. The breakdown of social order. The demise of law and justice. The end of control. The loss of accountability. Very grown-up stuff. The something is hardly in there, really. Knocking gently on the door between worlds, waiting patiently for an answer, leaving a respectful note on the multidimensional doormat, all in good cheer and with pleasant cordiality.
As a writer of integrity and rock-solid character, I'll probably be easily swayed by public opinion. You like a particular story, tell me, and there's a good chance I'll be doubly motivated to produce another chapter.
You find yourself fond of a particular setting? Let me know, and I'll offer up my notes to your author of choice. No? No. But I might consider doing other storylines in the same narrative universe.
Here's some of the stuff you might hope or dread to see chapters from in the coming months:
Buffy likes it slimy (working title, but highly representative): yeah, I just had to include this one, even though there currently is little to say about it, and no chapters posted. But yeah, you're thinking about it. We know what's going on here. Yeah, it's implied, but we all know. Images are arriving into your head with great speed and splashing themselves across yer mind's eye. Yeah. She's totally doing it. With all those appendages and protruding parts. Yeah. And she likes it. You want this stuff. Contact me for my Paypal account...
Multiversimilitude: the grand masters of science fiction and of old might not consider it a homage to be combined in essence with Pratchett and Douglas Adams (especially since the aforementioned might be on the losing side), but this is the basis for Multiversimilitude's conception. Subcultural references and double entendres abound in one woman's struggle for a less ordered galaxy.
The earth fell, as we always knew it would: neither dogs nor vaults comfort or shield the wastelands wanderer from the falling skies. But he might yet find purpose, tears not of his own he long believed lost, and the realization that even legends loose muscle mass when not properly fed...
The thorn on the island of roses: on an island in the eastern sea, a feline takes a stand to hold back the night for the sake of humans who might never know their safety rests in the tiniest paws, shielded from that which slithers towards the light by no more than a set of small, sharp green eyes, tiny curved claws, and a heart as large and tumultuous as the ocean that surrounds them all...
To ninja, with relentlessness and abandon: after a long working day, filled to the brim with the creation of unique content and revolutionary material, it's good to kick back and be highly derivative. So, ninjas. And they live in settlements shielded from the eyes of peasant and emperor alike. And they leap from tree to tree, accept missions that never seem to require any actual assassination and otherwise ninja-like activities, and make use of weird japanesque powers for the most unsuitable of purposes. But that's where the similarities end. For the ninjas are really guardians, the village is not really hidden, the powers are not really powerful, the missions are not really missive, and the world is not really that simple. Not for reasons measurable or calculable, but for all that which we cannot see, will not confront, and hope we never will have to know for certain. And when the night again grows long, the woods are filled with a lonely and distant piping. And in its wake, the unmeasurable follows...
Tullochgorum: an experiment in form and style, but simultaneously one of my most extensive and ambitious projects. A work in swedish, but all the more international in style and content, Tullochgorum deals with the coming, or perhaps return, of something, but more importantly, how the world and its people react to whatever something might be surfing in from the other side. If that's not pretentious enough for you, then how about this: in Tullochgorum, the story is the form, and the form is the story.
But yeah, the world in disarray. The breakdown of social order. The demise of law and justice. The end of control. The loss of accountability. Very grown-up stuff. The something is hardly in there, really. Knocking gently on the door between worlds, waiting patiently for an answer, leaving a respectful note on the multidimensional doormat, all in good cheer and with pleasant cordiality.
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