Back in the south of Sweden, in my house. It’s late afternoon as I type this. I got to bed thirteen hours ago, and just recently finished my coffee. That should give you a sense of how my day is going, twisted and raw. Which is fine, because sitting up talking and drinking bourbon with my (fake) mother-in-law was nice. My head didn’t think so when the built-in alarm clock in my fuzzy mind said that I should get up at seven this morning though. So I didn’t, and here we are.

A shower, a walk, and then I think it’s Bloody Mary time. Have a good one, folks.

Every Friday I pack up my Stockholm apartment. It’s not that much work obviously, the whole purpose of having a set place for my workweek was to get away from completely living in a bag. There are little things, like clearing the kitchen counter, making sure there are no stinky things (usually cheese) in the fridge, emptying the dishwasher that I ran the night before, that sort of thing. Even though it’s just me here, and I’m not the kind of guy who leaves food out, I do think it’s a lot nicer to come back to a clean space. Somewhat clean, at least – I still need to get myself a vacuum cleaner…

I like it here, it’s a nice space, this apartment. I get things written, or translated as it were, while I’m here. It has become a positive space, and I hope I’ll get to keep it when my second hand lease runs out, which is mid-February. Ah, the joys of finding a place to live in Stockholm…

Yesterday was yet another one of those long workdays, where I fuel myself with nice food and a drink or two. Got results, which was good, but the price of it today is a different matter.

There used to be a time when I worked overnight, as in no sleep at all, regularly. Once a week at first, then I scaled it down to every other week. It was my way of getting tired, cooling my brain as it were. But that was, what, almost 20 years ago? I quit the practice a few years later, only pulling all-nighters if I had to. Or wanted to. Work was always fun.

These days, too many long workdays turns my brain into mush. It can be jolted back to life with coffee, I can manage, if it wasn’t for the sleep deprivation. Forcing your brain to work the night shift for too many days in a row will mess with your sleep, and that’s the one thing you shouldn’t fiddle with if you want to stay alert and productive.

So today will be fun, with back to back meetings and whatnot. Jack me up to the coffee machine, please.

It promises to be a cold day in Stockholm, but looking at today’s schedule I’ll have no problem staying warm. They’re busy weeks, my days up here, and that’s obviously how I like them. What would be the purpose otherwise?

I’ve been thinking a lot about balance lately, and how to make work fit with interests, dreams outside of your job, and personal life. Traveling like this, being away from your home for most of the workweek, is both good and bad. It gives focus, because when I’m in Stockholm I’m working (a lot) with 24HR and similar tech related projects. When I’m home I’m not, at least not to the same extent. The problem arises with fringe projects, like my fiction writing for example. What time will that cut in to? How do you balance that sort of thing – and there are plenty – if it’s something you need to do both in your work location as well as in your home?

You just do, I guess, it it’s important enough. Thought in progress, to be continued I’m sure.

Business travelers are a weird lot, if you ask me. Mostly white men, older than forty, with their laptops and noisy phone calls in the business lounge. They’re so used to taking up space, to not care about disturbing anyone else. In a way that’s good, for them personally at least – we all think too much about how we might be perceived, while most people just don’t care what you do. But as a group – a flock or pack or whatever a group of white overweight suits should be called – it’s less appealing.

I guess I’m part of that crowd, technically. Not yet forty, not yet overweight, not wearing a suit, but I’m sitting here tapping away in the business lounge while waiting to board the plane. I’d be self-loathing if I wasn’t so sure this will all be over soon.

I’ve been trying to find my groove with the Swedish translation of my novella, Ashen Sky, but it’s been hard going. That all changed the other day, and the first part is now done, ready for some editing since the pacing in the first half is off. Then I’ll send it to the publisher for feedback, before starting on the second part. Now that I’ve got a clear idea of how this story flows in Swedish, this should be a breeze.

It feels good to be back to writing again. I’ve already started mapping my next project, after the Ashen Sky translation.

Oh, and it’s Monday. Don’t let the blues get you, remember that everything is fun if you imagine it infested with bananas.

It’s a sunny day in the south of Sweden, just below freezing, crisp and frosty in the grass in the garden. I’m indoors though, getting some work done to get a head start on next week. There’ll be some writing, or translating as it were, later too. I’m looking forward to it, I think I finally found the pacing. Makes it a lot easier.

Ideally I’d spend some time reading today, and thinking, but it’s past noon as I type this. Wouldn’t want to exert myself or anything…

Enjoy your Sunday. Tomorrow will come soon enough.

I’ve seen my fair share of airports over the years, but I’ve never frequented the same ones as much as I do now. Every week I fly from Malmö Airport to Arlanda (Stockholm) and back again. It’s on autopilot for me now, from the moment I get in the car to when I step off the airport train in Stockholm, and then the same in reverse going back home.

Friday afternoons are generally quite busy at Arlanda. The lounges are full and noisy, there’s people in queues everywhere, and all you want to do is get home. Yesterday wasn’t like that, apparently Sweden hasn’t woken up from the holidays yet. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the domestic terminal this calm. Next week will be a whole different matter, I presume.

So yesterday was fun, so fun in fact that I extended it into today. To six in the morning, to be exact, which might be why I’m running at 25% capacity at the moment. Oh well, there were good drinks and interesting conversation. What else do you need?

Except painkillers and coffee, that is.

It’s a bleak and wet morning in Stockholm. I feel better than I deserve, having ingested both raclette and rum with friends yesterday evening. The former was sans potatoes, but you make do with what you have and we had nachos. It was a pretty interesting mix, not at all as disgusting as it might sound, although it changed the taste profile completely. I enjoyed it.

I also enjoyed several of the rums we tried. The one pictured below, Ron Esclavo, is a new acquaintance that I hope to get to know better sometime in the future.

My overnight apartment in Stockholm is now semi-furnished, by which I mean that, in addition to the bed I bought, there are now sitting furniture in the living room. Still no kitchen table or desk though, which means that my morning writing session will lead to a cracking back. What I do for art.

And yes, there’s morning writing on the agenda! I’m translating Ashen Sky to Swedish and I’m only two months behind schedule. Better get started then, shall I?

Good morning.

I’m writing this from the airport, Stockholm bound again. I don’t mind, taking a break from work is all well and good, but I get restless. The holiday downtime didn’t exactly fill me with creative energy, as newsletter subscribers well know, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t look forward to get back to work.

Trying something new: Renting furniture for my temporary apartment in Stockholm. I’ll get back to you on that one.

Flight’s delayed, which I don’t particularly mind either because I don’t have any pressing meetings today. The business lounge isn’t my scene, but there is semi-decent coffee and, at this particular airport, a place to sit and get some work done, so that’s nice.

Skybound now. Until tomorrow, then.

In a stroke of madness I’ve decided to write something every morning. Or afternoon, as it were, this the first day of 2018.

I’ve been struggling with writing lately so this is, partly, a way for me to overcome that. The idea is to not put any pressure on these pieces whatsoever, they can be anything, and will always be short and unedited. I might even put a clock on them, but I don’t want any rules so probably not.

The first one, then, is slightly anticlimactic since it is about nothing at all. Which is all well and good, because that might be the case most of the days that’ll follow, until I give up this folly and sleep for another ten minutes every morning instead. That’s starting to sound like a better idea already.

Alas, I’ve gotten this far so I might as well give this a shot. Until tomorrow then.