Recently, someone wrote me about how jealous he was at my life in Cambodia. I felt highly honored. But his writing also made me reflect on this life of mine again, in this remote, tropical warm East-Asian country. Read More
I am a writer, and I will finish the shit that I started.
I will not whine. I will not blubber. I will not make mewling whimpering cryface pissypants boo-hoo noises. I will not sing lamentations to my weakness. Read More
My landlord came to visit to collect the money for my last month’s electricity bill. He asked me how my illness was going.
“Oh, very good,” I said while sweating abundantly.
“What was it again?” he asked.
“Typhoid. Typhoid fever.”
And with these words he took a few steps back. “Oh. That’s not fun. Not so good. You get better soon. You can also pay next month, no problem for me.” He already opened my door. “Hey, no problem. Good night.” And he was gone. Read More
I can only write well after a stormy night. Or when I have slept rather bad. Or if I’m just really under a certain pressure. I must then really defragment my entire head and all the spun webs in it and that is best done while writing.
Yeah, but what if you had a great sleep? And you wake up, slept in and all, and the sun is shining and there is not a cloud in the sky? The newspapers report nothing special, the mailbox is shockingly empty (I had to check the day, it’s not a Sunday?) And the radio just plays normal pop songs. Read More
Yesterday I let myself indulge in a 90-minute massage at a nearby spa. Mrs. Sokha looks probably like a little girl, but her fingers are strong and I felt myself really molded to mush after that massage. And that was also what was needed. Read More
You probably once stumbled on my previous blog post, in which I wrote about waking up early to write.
Waking up early to write – so that meant 4.30am – ended up to be quite an effort. And to be honest with you, I managed to do it for about one month. The first week of this year, in which I allowed myself to finally start writing, were all about that early alarm. Interrupted by a necessary trip through neighboring Viet Nam, I continued with the scheme as soon as I got back home again.
And then I had to stop it.
I discovered two significant reasons to immediately stop with the early rising stuff. Firstly, my writing got out of control. I was writing that much that I lost the direction where I was supposed to go, characters got to do and say their own thing and it was hard to stay on track with the story.
And that track was missing. I have the initial idea for the novel in my head, but that did not seem to be enough as a base. What I was missing was The Outline. The life line for writing.
“Hey character, where are you going? That’s not where you are supposed to go. Here is a buoy. Let me pull you back.”
Yes, I was naive enough to think I could just start off with the story I had to tell.
Secondly, not only was I knackered at 11pm at night. I also became Mr Oh-I-really-need-a-nap, preferably at 5pm. If I could not have that nap of about one hour, I would become cranky. I was tired all evening. I wasn’t fun. I wasn’t exactly nice company for others either.
Of course it’s great to be able to talk with friends about my writing at the dining table and how cool it is to wake up early. But they saw it too: the tiredness in my eyes.
So BANG. There was the second reason. I want to stay socially human. I don’t have to wake that early to write.
What I needed the most was The Outline. Again, that safety net. That thin red line that should connect everything that will happen with which characters and at what time in a novel is totally unmissable. And with that awesome story in my head, even plotting down that necessary outline isn’t that easy.
But it will serve as a blue print. It has to be fixed from the beginning, otherwise I loose control – and I just learned that.
And what happens with the stuff that I did write that early?
Yes, that was quite a lot. About 15,000 words. But it ain’t all quality stuff and I think most of that material might not even enter the novel. Ever.
Perhaps in other words, though.
From January 2 to January 9 (of 2014) I woke up every day at 4.30am. Yes, in the early morning. That was because I had concluded that I can’t use any more excuses for not writing a novel. So: I just wake up early and do the job then! Read More
She was really beautiful.
But you can’t just say that to a girl nowadays, so I asked if she cared for a drink. Well, first I found out her name by peeking into her passport as she appeared next me as I just walked through customs and she was browsing through it. Sarah. From the UK. Read More
Date a boy who treasures experience over toys, a hand-woven bracelet over a Rolex. Date the boy who scoffs when he hears the words, “vacation”, “all-inclusive”, or “resort”. Date a boy who travels because he’s not blinded by a single goal but enlivened by many.
You might find him in an airport or at a book store browsing the travel guides – although he “only uses them for reference.” Read More
It happens quite often. It’s when people find out what I do with my life, what I do for a living. They checked me out on Facebook, read this blog and – bang – they see that I do a lot of things. Read More
What would I wish I had known when I first moved to Cambodia?
Well, the answer became my submission to the popular blog of Move To Cambodia (which is a great book too, by the way!).
When I decided to move to Cambodia for the obvious reasons of the tropical temperature, great food, fascinating, friendly people and less hard work for less necessary bucks, I didn’t know about the giant black hole I would fall into within the first few months. Read More
When you get to a certain age there is something terrible that starts happening to you. And it happens over and over again. It’s called “a birthday”.
Of course turning 36 isn’t the end of the world—it’s just a giant step towards it. Read More
I moved from Amsterdam (The Netherlands) to Phnom Penh (Cambodia) in September 2010. So let me start this update right there. Read More
So you click to see what that first post is about, hey? Well, true, it’s The Fascination for The First Post that got you here.
I guess you are interested in the beginning of the story. Where it all started on this website. And you expect the reason for its existence. And the explanation of the name HereIGoAgainOnMyOwn. Read More
I am an individual.
And I take everything seriously. Except myself.
I cannot control how I am perceived, only how I am presented.
So I dance like everyone is watching and I don’t give a shit.
Without me, I’ve got nothing.
So when times get tough,
I choose downward dog over downward spiral.
I eat eggs and bacon in the morning, do push-ups before bed time, and ‘Look hot’ is always on my to-do list (right before ‘Go out into the world and kick some ass’).
I can get what I want.
But I can’t get it alone.
So I pull over to ask for directions. I never turn down a free lesson in anything, and when life gives me lemons, I find someone who wants lemons and sell them at a premium.
I am bullshit-intolerant, because lying only complicates everything.
I assume that assuming is a bad idea, and that trying to change people is not my job.
I am replaceable, but I bust up my ass to make sure it’s not so obvious. I never give up, I never give in, and when somebody makes me really angry, I do fifty pushups. (That will show ‘em).
While I know that most people don’t bite, I know the ones that do are usually worse off than me.
So I help strangers carry heavy things.
I never let anyone ruin my day and if I have time to judge someone, I’ll judge myself.
I am not for everyone and everyone is not for me.
So, I just do me,
one day at a time
and see what happens.