TLO Chapter 18

 Chapter 18

My pink elephant took a long holiday. 

Three years to be precise. Alas its credit card ran out of money: it was evicted from its hotel: its plane ticket was about to expire or for whatever reason it had to come back, that bumbly pachyderm returned to my life. 

It also brought along his good friend, Mr. Bull in a China Shop. Maybe they’ve become pals over the holidays but were determined to destroy my precarious life balance.

 They took the shape of Lars’ father and son. Maybe Linnea was around too. 

It was Lars’ fault entirely. He opened Pandora’s box. 

After three years of living in peace, he had no better idea than to start all over again with that marriage mambo. I never asked for it; I didn’t want nor need it. Me? Being Mr. Berggren II? No way.

Lars had to screw it all with his control freak ways. My books were sitting in his library; I had no savings, a shitty writing career and one foot in the homeless shelter if he kicked me out. I was the one in need of reassurance, support, help, assistance; not he. 

Did Lars ask me for my hand? No, of course. 

He announced the upcoming wedding to the side of the family he was still in speaking terms; his father, son (maybe he got an e-mail) and executive board. 

TLO Chapter 17

 Chapter 17

I never went to college, university and much less got a master’s degree. Lars had made his point very clear and I was too much of a mouse to bite the lion’s tail. I didn’t even made it to Mrs. Potts’ Creative Writing Seminar. 

Nor to the British Library.  

Lars’ library was comfortable enough as to work from there: so I did it. For three years long, I spent every minute after he was gone to work in there (when I wasn’t traveling with him). I did manage to write some things and even publish two books with my stories, but nothing more. It was self-publishing company; I didn’t have the guts to get into the writers’ mafia guild. One look at the very, very gay man sitting behind a desk -someone highly recommended by my aunt Clara- made me realise that he was more into the aspiring writer than into his writings. He was more than eager to get me contacts in the publishing world. 

Right, he was all into contact and keeping in touch with me, something that Lars wouldn’t like at all. If he was jealous of a pizza delivery boy, he would murder a respected publisher with the keys to Calliope and Melpomene’s E-mart.  

That was the last time I was in Madrid. 

As the man perfectly explained to me you have to be “in” to be taken seriously. Translation; hover around some professors, write what you’re expected to write; flatter whom you know you have to flatter and be patient. One day, one of the cronies might die (or post something inappropriate in Twitter) and you’ll inherit the keys to kingdom come. 

I didn’t have the stamina to endure it and Lars wasn’t exactly helping with his “did he write anything worth reading? I mean, something you can read,” question. 

We will always have Amazon Kindle Publishing.