I once took part in this story writing contest from the back of a packet of hagelslag (best stuff to decorate your bread with ever. yay for being dutch!). It said: 'Write a spy story of 500 words max and win a real spy training!' I had just discovered my love for the art of writing so I decided to take part. My first try left me with a >1000 piece, which I had to mutilate down to a text of the appropriate size. If I read it back now there is a huge list of things I'd change but hey, I was 10.
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| The letter |
So after submitting I spent a few weeks sitting near the mailbox, reading Donald Ducks while waiting for the soft swish of enveloppes sliding over stone and the thud of them landing on wood. As a kid you wish you would get anything besides the annual birtday cards from ancient aunts and groggy grandparents. It was not until then that I realised how much boring mail grownups receive. Bills, brochures, newspapers and more bills.
But after what seemed ages (but was probably just a few weeks well wasted) there was actually an envelope with my name and the hagelslag brand on it. I was one of the five winners of the contest! Needles to say, I rann all through the house, jumping up and down, and was super exited for the spy training, which was great. I wish the tshirt I received at the end of the traing day was a few sizes bigger, I could wear it and be all ironic and hipstery. See what I'm getting at? →
I am currently going through the same nerve-wrecking process, but this time it is my inbox I keep refreshing every
five minutes. And when I have closed internet and open it a while later, I type
in my password with trembling fingers. What am I waiting for?
Well, a few weeks ago I was listening to what fragments of Ólafur Arnald's new album I could find. I hadn't fixed my itunes problem yet so I couldn't download (sorry if I sound like a sanctimonious preacher, in
truth I only buy music from smaller artists who really need the money). On his facebook I saw something about an art competition, so I checked it out. You could upload pieces of 'artwork' (I knew I had a weak spot for Schottish accents, now I have one for
Icelandic too..) and he would pick the ones he liked best and make an artbook
to go with the special edition cd/record. I had two hours before bedtime and four before the deadline, so I thought 'why the heck not'. The idea was to make art inspired by one of the songs, but I hadn't listened to the full album yet so I went to the itunes store and played all the short samples. I picked the one that spoke to me most in those short one and a half minute. It turned out to be Sudden Throw. So I started putting together some photographs, compressing the whole creative process into two short hours. Some of my friends helped evaluating via facebook until I had a version I liked enough. I uploaded it and thought of some deep caption that meant a lot to me but probably nothing to the rest of the world. Then one of my sweet friends came up with the idea to try black and white, which resulted in another entry. Yet another friend said he'd like the image to be a bit warmer, so I tried that and uploaded it too. Three in total.
And thus began the wait...
Surely, Ólafur knows the feel: Ólafur Arnalds, the Wait
Ólafur responded to my facebookpost question saying that the 'winners' would be contacted in the next few days before being officially being announced.
I have checked my mail 4 four times while writing this blog. I will check it six more times before going to sleep. I just opened the Donald Duck homepage. It is not nearly as entertaining or distracting as the paper edition.
Sometimes, the internet is a curse.
