My Editing Voices

—So the prompt says:

Tell us your story and explain why you deserve a hygge-desk the most.

—First of all, reintroduce me to hygge, I remember the Norwegian expression “Hyggelig å møte deg” sort of the equivalent to “Nice to meet you”, but hyggelig is deeper ?

—It means “cosiness of the soul”, a Zuhause feeling to the extreme.

—Fair enough. That is mountains for me. I deserve a hygge-desk because I love mountains – I miss them.

—Ahem, not good enough. Start with your point of departure:

“Welcome to my chess-like reality!”

—Ok, perhaps not that excited/sarcastic. Try giving me some description, why black and white?

“Pitch dark room plus a thick beam of white light.”

—Ok, what about your state?

“Being woken up at some unearthly hour; my circadian rhythm is totally wasted.”

—Give me some causes why is it so dark?

“Due to the eternal night & thick midsummer drapes.”

—What about your state?

“Due to –mainly to— the jetlag but also to my writing habits.”

—Ok, let’s put it together.

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Welcome to my chess-like reality!

Pitch dark room (due to the eternal night & thick midsummer drapes)

________(Being woken up at some unearthly hour

_________My circadian rhythm is totally wasted

________________(due to –mainly to— the jetlag but also to my writing habits))

plus a thick beam of white light.

.

—Still this sounds too abstract, try to be more personal so people can relate. Back from scratch.

“Ever since I can remember I have had a crush on mountains. Perhaps because when I was still in the womb my parents would go hiking; perhaps because as a kid I could always relate to Heidi, living stuck as I was in…”

—You don’t need to be so specific, that might bring up some unnecessary preconceptions.

—Ok, so “living stuck as I was” and directly to the how: “surrounded by buildings rather than beautiful peaks.” Aber wo sind die Berge? Do you remember Heidi when she reached the top of the cathedral?

—Yes, but maybe you should avoid mentioning it, to avoid distractions.

—But it makes total sense since I could relate to her Heimweh.

—Ok, but for now just continue:

“I always felt this Heimweh that did not last long: as soon as I could, I went travelling as far as my legs would let me: to the Pyrenees, to the Rockies, to the Andes, to the Alps.”

—Ok, but we may get rid of one mountain range, if we end up with an excess of words – not to mention that skipping one will not hurt: they will not check if we’ve been completely truthful and honest.

—Fair enough.

—Ok, now he we should introduce the conflict.

“But everything changed last year: the beginning of my sedentary life.”

—That does not sound that appealing, think of the bright side, e.g. what was good, different but good?

—Irmeli! I love her. The focus on writing, the time for myself…

—Ok, but don’t be so optimistic, remember we need to show how unhyggeligt you are.

“It was perfect but suffocating; perfect but repetitive; perfect but alienating”.

—Good. I like the contradiction. But now elaborate, show don’t tell. Why?

“The creative flow is being jeopardized by a comfortable technology-hacked home.”

—You’re still telling. Describe.

—I want to say, everything related to repetition, non-stop, recursive, iterative, humdrum, day-to-day…

—Describe.

—Ok, so when, where, how n’est-ce pas ?

—Oui.

—Shall I summarize my schedule?

—Just mention some times and don’t forget the focus on the morning.

“7am, 8, 9… the absolute darkness since our window blinders turn the room pitch black, contrasted by the white light of the screens, of the bulb above me, depicting a chess-like reality in black and white. (As you can appreciate in the picture: my unhyggeligt working spot.)”

—If you include the picture, do not state the obvious.

—Ok. Still I need more the repetition to be felt, like the rolling-R on my tongue – what could be more repetitive?

—Got you. What about a pervasive presence of words starting with “r”: repetition, recursive, redundant, revolve, reverberate, remain, rumble, Roomba, robot.

“11am: Irmeli, our Roomba robot, would wake up to clean the house. At times her noisy cleaning would be followed by those from the washing machine and the dish washer in an everlasting fashion: Irmeli-washing machine-dishwasher; Irmeli-washing machine-diswashwer...”

—I like the last repetition.

—Can I use it again?

—Ok, but add something in between.

“Sometimes my mind, in its pursuit to keep itself afloat among all the ever constant electronic devices, would wander and bring back to me an echo of travel experiences, particularly this painted message on a wall I once found on this remote Canadian island, aiming –without knowing— at hygge: “Disconnect from the machine, reconnect with yourself and with others”, a thought that would be soon interrupted by the ever standing noise of my place’s orchestra.

Irmeli… ad infinitum.”

—Ok. I like the contrast between technology and nature. Stick to that. Accurate the adding of “ad infinitum”. Go back to the normal narrative.

“At some point my mind would just go blank, setting me indistinctively in a state of total numbness, unable to weave thoughts, unable to write a thing.

Irmeli…”

—Ok, enough of that. Three is the magic number and definitely more than enough. Continue.

“To my amazement, after all these years of chasing die Berge, (aber wo sind die Berge?) I was Heidi again: my whole being feeling trapped in the comfort of a flat, trapped in the comfort of a city house, surrounded by white light, electronic noises, the smell of toxic clean, and nothing but the recursive presence of the same dark walls.”

—Again I’m telling you, leave aside die Berge and the German interference (as much as it makes sense to you), you have already proved the point of being alienated and stuck. Now you need to ask them to save you.

“Would you help me feel like Heidi when she got back home: Zuhause back in the mountains?”

—That sounds pretty meh. Sound more desperate.

“Please, I beg you! Let me get back Zuhause to the mountains!”

—Desperate enough?

—Perhaps too much and you went back to the German.

“Would you help me get back Zuhause to the mountains, please?”

—It’s only one word, just like I used hygge, Heimweh.

—Ok. Show me the whole thing.

.

Ever since I can remember, I could always relate to Heidi, living stuck as I was surrounded by buildings rather than beautiful peaks. I always felt this Heimweh that did not last long: as soon as I could, I went travelling as far as my legs would let me: to North, South America, Europe.

But last year, I got myself trapped in the middle of technology hacks, as I experienced the Finnish winter for the first time and could not get out. Those hacks were indeed great, for I could focus on the funny stuff and avoid dealing with the always boring and inevitable housework. And yet (and yet) in this perfect world where my daily chores were sorted out, something was missing, something somehow felt out of place in those solitary mornings: there was a deep feeling of alienation, for my iterative mornings (day after day after day…) would precede as follows.

7am, 8, 9… the absolute darkness since our window blinders turn the room pitch black, contrasted by the white light of the screens (mobile phone’s first, computer’s later), of the bulb above me, depicting a chess-like reality in black and white.

11am: Irmeli, our Roomba robot, would wake up to clean the house. At times her noisy cleaning would be followed by those from the washing machine and the dish washer in an everlasting fashion: Irmeli-washing machine-dishwasher; Irmeli-washing machine-diswashwer...

Sometimes my mind would wander and bring back to me an echo of travel experiences, particularly this painted message on a wall I once found on this remote Canadian island, aiming –without knowing— at hygge: “Disconnect from the machine, reconnect with yourself and with others”, a thought that would be soon interrupted by the ever standing noise of my place’s orchestra:

Irmeli-washing machine-diswasher, (...) ad infinitum…

At some point my mind would just go blank, setting me indistinctively in a state of total numbness, unable to weave thoughts, unable to write a thing.

Irmeli-washing machine-diswasher…

To my amazement, after all these years of chasing die Berge, I was Heidi again: my whole being feeling trapped in the comfort of a flat, trapped in the comfort of a city house, surrounded by white light, electronic noises, the smell of toxic clean, and nothing but the recursive presence of the same dark walls.

Would you help me get back Zuhause to the mountains, please?

.

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—Verdict?

—It can be read.