Anna Veronica - opfølgeren til Olava
Anna Veronica – opfølgeren til Olava.
Anna Veronica er opfølgeren til Olava, romanen der udkom i 2012 og som mange læsere har spurgt, om der kommer en opfølger til. Nu er den på vej! Historien vil ud, og det er Anna Veronica, Olavas barnebarn, der har noget på hjertet. Første kapitel er i hus, og jeg skriver på engelsk. Sidst i denne beskrivelse deler jeg de første sider af historien.
Anna Veronica er opkaldt efter Olavas mor, Anna, og Romani-folkets medicinkvinde (shuvani), Veronica, som Olava mødte da hun var en ung kvinde. Bogen handler om Anna Veronica, en kvinde, der møder sin Twin Flame og som gennemgår en personlig forvandling, hun aldrig nogensinde troede var muligt. Hvis du syntes historien om Olava var hjerteskærende, så mød hendes barnebarn. Og hvor Olava er dedikeret til De Næste Syv Generationer, er Anna Veronica dedikeret til Vores Aner.
Bogen bliver på ca. 250-300 sider. Lige nu kan jeg ikke sige så meget andet end, at jeg glæder mig til at skrive historien færdig. Det er meget healende for mig at skrive, og ligesom med Olava, vil Anna Veronica være en historie fra mit hjerte. Jeg kan mærke og gennemleve stærke følelser og stemninger, når jeg skriver, og mange læsere vil opleve det samme, når de læser bogen.
Pengene fra fundingen går til skrivning, redigering, korrektur, trykning og udsendelse af bogen. Den udkommer i første omgang på engelsk og planen er, at den senere skal oversættes til og udgives på norsk og dansk.
Vi (forlaget) sender bogen til dig på engelsk, så snart den udkommer. Hvis du vil bestille flere bøger, vil vi selvfølgelig være meget taknemlig for det. Ønsker du bogen på norsk eller dansk, så skriv til os på firstname.lastname@example.org.
Du sparer også penge ved at funde (bestille) bogen/bøgerne på forhånd!
Hvis projektet ikke opnår fuld finansiering, dvs. hvis indsamlingen ikke når op på DKK 21.000, så får du pengene tilbage. Det er et vigtigt princip når det gælder crowdfunding.
Hvem er jeg?
Jeg er forfatter og har en baggrund som underviser i engelsk og medier samt som kommunikationsmedarbejder. Jeg er selv indehaver af Forlaget Munay i Danmark og Munay Publishing i Norge, hvor bøgerne udkommer. Jeg har indtil nu skrevet romanen Olava, eventyrbogen Tulle, Trulle, Mulle og Menneskene, fantasy historien Mollimierne fra Verdensrummet. Det er muligt at læse om disse historier og anmeldelser på min hjemmeside www.annelenebleken.dk, på forlagets hjemmeside www.forlagetmunay.dk eller på forlagets facebook-side https://www.facebook.com/forlagetmunay/.
Dette er anden gang jeg opretter et crowdfunding-projekt for at realisere et af mine bogprojekter. En af fordelene ved denne måde at finansiere en bog på, er bl.a., at man på forhånd ved ca. hvor mange bøger, der skal trykkes. Pengene fra fundingen vil blive brugt til skrivning, redigering, korrektur, layout, trykning og udsendelse/levering af bogen, når den udkommer.
Anna Veronica kan fint læses selvom man ikke har læst Olava. Her er de første sider af historien.
And so the story begins…
Anna Veronica is sitting by her grandmother’s grave. The sacred silence that comes with twilight surrounds her like a gentle veil. She can feel relaxation spreading through her body as she lowers her shoulders and breathes in the fresh sea air. She closes her eyes. For a brief moment she can feel a rush of sadness rising within her. Then it’s gone, replaced by gratitude. It’s been a long time since she was here now. All those years living abroad, the long journey to the coast, the divorce and then, a few years after that, well, that was when her life turned upside down and nothing would ever be the same again.
Anna looks at the grave and a tender smile lights up her face. Grandma’s name is engraved in the stone. A little worn after all these years but still visible. Olava. She was her grandmother. Ever since Anna was a little girl, Grandma was the one person, after her own mother, who meant the most to her.
Anna drifts back into one of her first childhood memories. She was only a little girl then, sitting on Grandma’s lap with her arms around her neck, feeling safe and protected. She can almost hear Grandma’s gentle voice as she remembers her words.
“The stories must live, Anna, fly with the wind, the stories from our ancestors. Those who live inside us.”
“What is an ancestor, Grandma?” When she was little, Anna would ask her grandmother about everything and the gentle woman would answer.
“They are the ones who walked this Earth before us.”
“But… are they dead?” Anna would look at her Grandma with the wondering, innocent eyes of a child.
“Yes, their bodies are dead, and we can no longer see them, but their souls are alive.” Grandma’s smile was like no one else’s and Anna always listened carefully to every word she said.
“What is a soul, Grandma?”
“It’s the part of us that can never die. It’s who we are in our hearts.”
“But Grandma, can stories really fly?” Anna was a child of many questions and her Grandma’s patience was endless, well, pretty much endless, anyway.
“Oh yes, my dear, if you imagine that stories can fly, they can.” Anna didn’t know anyone else but her grandmother who could say things like that and there were people who found her a bit strange. Anna didn’t understand it before she got older, but some people smiled a little overbearingly at her grandmother behind her back. But Anna listened. To her, Grandma was a star.
Anna returns from the past. She giggles at the thought of how some people reacted to some of the things Grandma said and believed in. It never stopped Grandma from being herself, though.
Anna lies down in the grass. She lifts her eyes to the sky and fills her lungs with the fresh air. A seagull floats gently in the distance, softly spreading its wings against the dark, light blue evening sky. Anna follows the bird with her eyes, then she closes them and spreads her wings. She floats higher and higher up in the air, carried like a child by the wind. Anna can feel the memories living inside her. She becomes the flying story.
Grandma is sitting in her cosy chair by the window in her living room, gazing at the mountains in the distance. Her hands are folded, and her eyes are wet with tears.
“Are you sad, Grandma?” Anna looks at her Grandma with curious eyes.
“No, my angel, I am not sad… I am grateful.” Grandma smiles at Anna through the tears.
“But why are you crying, Grandma?
“I am crying because I am grateful… I am grateful that I found God in my heart. Right in here.” Grandma holds her hand to her heart.
“In there? Is God in there?” Anna puts her own hand on Grandma’s heart, but her grandmother gently takes her little hand and places it on Anna’s own heart.
“God is in here, Anna Veronica. God is in your own heart.” Grandma was the only person who sometimes used both Anna and Veronica and it always made her feel special when she did.
Anna is back again in the church yard by her Grandma’s tomb stone. She holds both her hands on her heart. Tears run down her cheeks into the ground. She slowly sits up and her eyes wander to the stone next to Olava’s. The names are hardly visible anymore, but she knows one of them. Oystein. He was Grandma’s little brother who died when he was little. Her grandmother had told her about him once when Anna was about 13 years old. They had visited the grave one Autumn afternoon after one of their many walks in nature. Grandma had carefully opened the old wooden gate into the churchyard and slowly approached the grave. They had been here before, but there was something different about Grandma this time. She had stood for a while by the stone with her eyes softly resting on the name. Silently they had found a spot in the grass and when Grandma spoke, her voice was soft and quiet.
“There is something I want to tell you, Anna. You are becoming a young woman now.” Grandma looked at Anna with her loving eyes and Anna nodded her head almost imperceptibly, aware that something was different with Grandma today.
“When I was your age, I had a little brother. You can see his name there; Oystein.” Grandma gently touched the letters with her fingers. Anna didn’t speak. Ever since she was a little girl, she could often feel how other people felt and today, she felt her grandmother’s sadness. When Grandma spoke again, her voice was like a soft breeze, gently soothing the soul.
“He died when he was little. It was in the summer and we were up in the mountains… I was supposed to look after him…” Grandma lowered her head and cleared her throat. When she continued, her eyes rested softly on the horizon.
“It was an accident…” Anna listened carefully to every word Grandma said. She was sharing a story from her life that Anna had never heard before.
“I went into a state of total darkness when it happened. I didn’t know what to do or where to turn to. I felt guilty, that it was my fault, and little by little my life became meaningless and without hope…” Grandma wiped a lonely tear running down her cheek, then she shook her head softly.
“He was so full of love and life and joy. I loved him from the day he was born… I still love him every day. Just like I love you, Anna.” Grandma looked at Anna with her eyes full of tears. Anna smiled, a little shy at the tender moment. She could feel Grandma’s love for her.
“For many years, I was very sad and very lonely. Then I met the right people and they helped me… they helped me open my eyes.” Grandma held a hand to her heart and smiled peacefully.
“You see, my beautiful granddaughter, love is the only thing that matters. The love that we feel in our hearts, for ourselves and everything around us. Find this love in your heart, Anna. That is where God lives.”
Anna smiles between the world of the past and the present. She closes her eyes. A soft breeze caresses her face, like the magic touch of a gentle lover. She whispers into open space.
“I’m learning, Grandma.” Anna softly shakes her head and a well of sadness rises to the surface. Then she cries.
“I just didn’t know it was going to be so hard.” Anna wipes her eyes with her hands and dries them softly in the grass. She remembers the ceremony a little while ago and the medicine woman’s words.
“Let your tears fall into the ground.”
Anna rests her head on her knees and looks at the name in the stone; ‘Olava.’
“I love you, Grandma.”
To be continued…
Written by Anne-Lene Bleken