A story begins…

In 2006 I was in Romania in the city of Craiova. It was a schoolmeeting and during one lunchbreak I visited the park close to the theatre. I had bought myself a burger from a hole in the wall and when I had finished it I got up on my legs and aimed for leaving going to my hotel and meet up with my collegues and continue with the professional work. As I was leaving the park I hear the sound of a flute. I keep on walking but for some reason I decide to go back and see who was playing. I was curious to see who was playing that nice folksong. I followed the sound back into an open space in the park. As I get closer I see an old man sitting by a park bench playing aa ocarina. I stop and sit down on a bench close to the old man. I listen and look. Enchanted by the beautiful melodies coming from the nice little instrument. Suddenly the old man stops playing and he puts his instrument into his bag. I fear that he will leave, but he takes his bag and comes to sit at my table. He takes the ocarina again and plays a tune. I listen and I look. I bring my camera and take pictures and a short film. For a short while we look at eachother. I nod at him and he stops playing as I show him the film I just shot. He was amazed.

The man was 80 years. His name was George and we started a conversation inGeorge broken english/romanian/french/german.
His face reflected a life of hardship and joy. His behavior showed a peacefull, simple and experianced man. He told me of his life, where he had lived and what he´d done. I scribled his namn and adress in my notesbook and after more than one hour I was forced to leave to the hotel and to my collegues. Later on the bus leaving the city I told some of my travlepartners of my experiance in the park. Among the collegues were filmmmakers and they immediately saw a potential for a moviescript. They really encouraged me to write it down and make a story – a film, a book, a play.

Now I have lived with this embryo for a story for this time and I can not get rid of it. There is a strong need to tell this story – and other stories with it. It´s about communication, our strong need of comunicating. Lack of language is no hinder. Agedifferences dont stop us. Cultural distance don’t stop us. Its communication and getting to know eachother that counts. In every situation.

When I came back home I wrote the story down and sent it to a friend. This friend knew a film script writer that she recommended and I sent the story on her. We had some contact the comming years but it didn’t develop until last year –  2011. We came together to write a play script and it was finished before the summer 2012. Again we took a rest in the writing process and started it up with a new idea – a film script. My friend has studied scriptwriting and we write together at this moment. We are having a great time fantasizing and imagining together and writing seperately in between.

What I notice in this process is the joy of writing. The joy of imagining. The joy of implementing personal experiances into the story. The joy of finding that things, happenings that at first don’t seem to fit in can find it’s way in to the story and contribute very well. I also notice the importance of time. Ther is no need to hurry. When it comes it comes – just follow your idea, be open for impulses and new ideas, Slowly the story evolves and becomes a unique beeing with it’s own life and energy. This is great experiences pushing me forward as a writer, as a storyteller.

What stops me is my high ability for procrastination and lack of discipline. I am undeveloped in taking care of my oppurtunities for writing. Taking every small bits of time that’s here and there and use them for writing. Sneaking away at lunchtime to write

What is intriguing is that I have such a good time when I write. Even if I wont be published or ever will finish the film I will have had a great time in the writingprocess. It is developing. It is challanging. It is FUN!me and write. Grabbing an hour in the evening to write. Skipping the TV and write. 

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