I’m at a fork in the road. Truthfully, I’ve been standing here a while, for several months in fact. One direction is lit up in bright neon. Down this road lies ambition, dreams and risk alike. The other is murkier, but I can sort of make out an alarm clock and getting old before my time. All my life, I have wanted to create and build things, from songs and photographs to a self-sustaining business. Creating jobs for other people is high on my wish list too. You’d think choosing a path would be easy, but it turns out, it’s not.

Creatively, I have reached the point where I really should hire a part time assistant, because my projects get more and more complex, as my ambition grows. Which is great, and the way it should go. Another Passion is the best example. What started as a side project grew into a priority, and instead of a one-man creativity blog, I wanted to build an Arts & Culture site with multiple contributors and high quality content, as well as a framework through which other, original projects could take root. And all of that is happening, slowly but surely. It’s pretty awesome.

But. Other things have made me reconsider many a plan and ambition. Most importantly Kelly’s cancer, the treatments and the toll all of that has taken on our household. A situation that makes life difficult, even if you’re not trying to make your own way and build a business. It’s made me realize, that if I really want to go down the neon lit path of risk and possible wonder, I need a better plan – and help.

Of course, while I’m busy working on said plan, Life keeps happening.

Kelly is not out of the woods yet, which means I still have to focus on supporting her more than anything. It’s not a chore or a duty, it’s a privilege, but it does drain a lot of energy of both the physical and emotional variety. I channel most of what I have left into Another Passion. And when there is nothing left at all, I hop on Minecraft and take a mental vacation.

On tough days, you might find me here in the Clearview Lounge, hanging in the bar or at the jukebox.

While standing at this fork in the road, I have been living off of my savings – leftovers from selling my apartment last year. There is still a little left, but not enough for another year of living like this. So I need to get that plan done, get my ducks in a row and buckle up (and whatever other clichés you can fit in) – or dial it all back and focus on work that pays me, instead of being paid for by me. But I’m not quite ready for that.

The one good thing I have to say about cancer, is that it puts everything in perspective. There’s a lot of little stuff I don’t sweat anymore, and I appreciate the good people in my life more than ever. Even on the tough days. For that very reason, I still want to build and create, and I still want to create jobs instead of just taking one.

These are interesting, and scary times.

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I am a nerd. I always have been, from my early memories of playing with Star Wars toys in the late 70s and graduating to Dungeons & Dragons, video games and comics in the 80s. Then the 90s, where I was deeply involved in the Danish gaming community, writing for a magazine, active on the con scene and even getting paid to game with kids! However, that was also the time I started feeling the pressure to “get a life” and “grow up”.

I spent the late 90s and a good part of the 2000s looking for a new identity. It’s clear to me now, but back then it was just life. I had wanted to be a writer, a photographer, a filmmaker and tell stories for a living, but that did not seem to fit with the rest of the world (as in: paying my rent). So I adapted, got a haircut and a “real” job in IT. It was vaguely creative, and I even made pretty good money for a while, but I also felt the joy of life getting sucked out of me.

In 2001 my mystery novel "Det perfekte offer" (the perfect victim) was published in Denmark. I was one proud nerd.

I found photography as a way to tell my stories and make some cash, but I still supplemented my income as a bartender for the first couple of years. My nerdier interests remained firmly planted in the back seat.

Eventually, I started running into people with similar backgrounds, but who had stuck to their nerdy interests in their professional lives. Some had become established authors, others were designing story-based team building events. The range was larger than I had imagined, and that inspired me.

Since 2009, I have made a conscious effort to reawaken my inner nerd, and I truly believe it’s the best thing I have done for myself in years. Luckily, I have a wife who is also a nerd at heart, and who supports me completely.

I started a fresh gaming group, playing D&D for the first time in more than a decade. Even though the campaign died out, it got me back to writing game material — I wrote maybe 150 pages of notes for that campaign, some of which was put online. And it felt right. It felt good. It felt like home.

So for me personally, I am naming 2012 as the Year of the Nerd. I will be working on as many nerdy projects as I can, and for the first time since the 90s, I will be attending (at least 2) conventions this year. I’m even a panelist at one of them. So here’s to you, my fellow nerds. And thank you for the inspiration.

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Throughout any given year I shoot thousands of photos, so when I was recently asked which one was my personal favorite of 2011, I had a difficult time answering. However, when thinking about it over a couple of days, the one above kept jumping out at me.

On 11-11-11 I documented Jason Webley‘s concert at The Moore in Seattle. That was where I caught this moment in time. Webley is talking about the virtues of love, while Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer sit together behind him, listening.

There is a love story there, and it starts with a look of genuine happiness on Jason Webley’s face, as he looks up into the light, sharing his joy with (and for) the audience. Amanda Palmer represents that audience to me, relaxed, attentive and having a good time, and Neil Gaiman ties the story together, looking down at his wife with complete adoration and a smile that says simply: “I Love You.”

There is enough intimacy in this photo, that I felt a little like a peeping tom as I put it through post processing, like I was crashing a private party. I actually had to remind myself that it was taken at a public event. That is why this is my favorite photo of 2011. It makes me feel like giving my wife a kiss, putting on some good music and take pleasure in the little things in life.

Click on the photo above to view a larger version.

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We watch a lot of Adult Swim in our household, which also means watching a lot of Family Guy and American Dad. After a few years of this, I have come to the conclusion that Seth MacFarlane is a creative genius (unlike the watered down kind at the Apple store). Though many people are involved in the creation of the aforementioned shows, those shows are still MacFarlane’s babies. And I am definitely a fan.

Please allow me to introduce my new song – the first in a long time – and a tribute to mr. Seth MacFarlane. The song was written, recorded and uploaded to the Interwebz in about five hours.

Kelly and I have been talking about how many television shows, movies, music videos and other pop culture treasures, that have been “tainted” by MacFarlane through references in his shows. This was a major source of inspiration for the song.

Not all the inspiration came from MacFarlane, however. In fact, two other tribute songs played a part as well. One is “Nugget Man” by Paul & Storm, which planted the idea of writing a tribute song in my head, and the classic “Song for Bob Dylan” by David Bowie. All of this was mixed together in my brain, and this is what came out. I hope you enjoy it.

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2011 will never be my favorite year, but if there is one recurring theme that is good, it’s the people.

A year ago I was back in Denmark for the first time in half a decade to experience one last Christmas with my mother. My mother had aggressive Cancer and died on the following Mother’s Day. This is the experience to which all other experiences of 2011 are compared, at least in terms of personal impact. If you have lost a loved one, I don’t need to say more. If you haven’t, then good for you.

It was the toughest year of my life, so far. After my mother passed away, my wife got hit with Cancer. Major surgery was followed by radiation treatments. The last of which will be over just before new years eve. My mother was going through treatments a year ago, but it wasn’t enough for her. In Kelly’s case, they caught the Cancer early. Things are hopeful, as well as painful.

I have spent a lot of time being a caregiver this year. It continues to be my most important job, until Kelly is well. It’s rewarding because I get to take care of someone who is extremely important to me. And sometimes it is incredibly hard for that very same reason. But life is not all bad.

When the stress of medical bills started piling up alongside the health related anxiety, two friends we have never even met started a benefit drive, and in less than 24 hours the bills were taken care of. Elizabeth and Ryan, I cannot thank you enough for what you did, and the same goes for the hundreds of people who showed their support.

My personal project – Another Passion – started out strong and took a back seat when Kelly’s health went down hill, but not before Lily had signed on as the first regular contributor. He work has been crucial and kept me at least a tiny bit responsible and on task.

Two comedians, Paul and Storm, have provided more awesomesauce in 2011 than they are probably aware of. Twice, they let me come take pictures of them performing. They even made me part of the show. You know you’ve had a bad year, when one of the highlights is tripping over a hole in the stage floor, interrupting Wil Wheaton mid story in front of a packed venue of laughing nerds. I had a blast that night. And at the other Paul and Storm gig, I took pictures of Hank Green – who liked them so much, he put several in his new album, Ellen Hardcastle.

Good people have carried me through 2011, and no one more so than Kelly. In spite of her own ordeal, she has remained loving and supporting of everything I do – no matter how scattered my efforts or lacking my follow-through. I am lucky to have met her, and I treasure every day we have together. She is amazing.

Looking back at the year 2011, I feel blessed by having met, worked and played with many kind, inspiring people. Many, many more than I could ever name in a blog post. I also feel closer to my wife than ever before. So I guess, even the awfulness that is Cancer is not without a bright side. That said, I will be glad to see it gone.

Here’s to a healthier, happier 2012 for all!

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I’m not a big Christmas person. I like the food, spending time with loved ones and the spirit of the season, but by the time we get around to it, I’m usually just waiting for the jingle bells to stop and Santa to go back on vacation. I hope this doesn’t automatically classify me as Naughty.

2011 has been a stressful year for me to say the least. More precisely, I would call it my least favorite of the 35 years I have been alive. Marred by death and disease, dealing with Life became the main and often only focus point. I never got the traction I was hoping for to push Another Passion as far as it deserves.

When Christmas rolls around this year, my wife will be nearly done with her radiation treatments. That’s what I am looking forward to the most, not just because of her being Cancer free and finished with treatment, but because it also symbolizes that we’re finally heading for a fresh start and better times.

If I am allowed to wish for more than that, it would be for a busy 2012. I have so many things I would like to do, in terms of growing Another Passion, but also various other projects – from apps to video, photo shoots to writing – but I need the resources to get it all done; time and money both!

I can only do so much as a single individual and having had my own life turned upside down in recent months, it has become clear that help is needed to keep up productivity when Life throws you a curveball. So I’m wishing for an assistant and/or an intern to help out! I would have taken on an intern already, if I weren’t working out of my home with a sick wife and two insane cats.

Wonderfully unexpected and possibly best thing about 2011 for me, has been the outpour of support from friends, acquaintances and strangers all. The community support during the hardest weeks around Kelly’s surgery was absolutely amazing – and continues to help both her and I through dealing with healing, hospitals and everything in between. From notes and emails to flowers and cards, everyone who has reached out, has touched us.

If I may have one final wish this holiday, it will be for my fellow creative and artistic friends to have an inspired, productive and successful 2012.

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Since Thanksgiving is upon us, I would like to share something I am thankful for. Recently I had the pleasure of photographing two very awesome and different shows, two weekends in a row. It was the first real work since Kelly had surgery. She is recovering nicely, but has since started follow-up treatment which comes with its own unpleasantires. Her prognosis is good and she is a trooper, and so the time was right for me to get back to work. I was nervous. I felt rusty, still shaken after a run-in with some paranoid private investigators who happened to be at a client’s place of business that I was photographing. Long story short, it had been a rough few months and I was in need of a break.

Jason Webley’s Night of Elevens

The first concert I shot was Jason Webley‘s 11-11-11 concert at The Moore theater. It came about through a question in a short e-mail: would I like to cover the concert, which was the culmination of a year of massive touring and over 200 gigs? Webley had invited a host of friends, performers and fellow musicians to drop in and add some flavor to the show. And what a fantastic show it was. So riveting at times that I had to put my camera down and just watch. Other times I caught myself doing just that, when I really ought to have been taking more photos.

I shot a few hundred frames that night, and for a moment forgot everything else in the world. There was just the work and the music. These are the kind of experiences I live for as a photographer, when you’re in the zone and the camera almost becomes an extension of your body. Also, it was great meeting one of my favorite authors – Neil Gaiman – with whom I also share a connection to…

A W00tstock Surprise!

Comedians Paul and Storm are half of the master minds behind the traveling geek fest that is w00tstock, and also the subject of my second photo shoot. Having photographed them twice before, returning to the Triple Door to shoot the Wil Wheaton vs. Paul and Storm show was something I had been looking forward to for a while. It was – as all w00tstock productions – a show with many friends involved as well, in this case they were co-hosting with Wil Wheaton (Star Trek the Next Generation), and were backed up by drummer Jason Finn (Presidents of the United States of America), Molly Lewis and John Roderick (The Long Winters). Oh, and apparently – me!

This is something I have definitely never done before as a photographer: early in the show, I was called out and introduced to the audience as the guy who’d be walking around on stage, taking pictures of the performers in action. Not in front of the stage, but on it! This was of course just as awesome and amazing as it sounds, but also a bit of a challenge. Not so much the stage part – I’m fine with making a fool of myself in front of hundreds of people – but I quickly realized how ingrained it is in me not to be in people’s way while covering an event. Stepping out between performer and audience just felt wrong! So I stuck mostly to the sidelines. Mostly.

These experiences were wonderful and just what I needed to revitalize. I am super thankful for being invited in and being able tell kind of stories my camera loves, to follow the process and even become part of the show. That is pretty cool, inspiring and motivating – and definitely something to be thankful for.

Here is a slide show from each of the events.

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I love a good short story. I love writing exercises too, and when I recently read Wil Wheaton’s flash fiction story “The Monster In My Closet“, I felt the familiar smack of inspiration hitting me in the back of my mind.

In his post, Wil talks about the little horror stories he used to enjoy as a kid and about writing a short story and putting it out there without editing it too much. Well, I remember those little stories too, and wanted to add a flash fiction story of my own.

So here it is, just in time for Halloween…
(Want to save it for later? Download the pdf.)

The Last Trick or Treat

Every street has an Evil House. That one place where all the kids know not to go, and if you should happen to shoot a ball into that front yard, you write it off as lost forever. The house on our street had been empty since before I was born and it was in bad repair. Some of the windows were broken, the paint had nearly all peeled off and shingles had come off the roof in patches. The yard was so overgrown there was no telling what might be hiding in the tall grass, or in the shade of two large oak trees that hid most of the house from view.

There was a walking path of cracked, mossy tiles leading through a rusty iron fence, past the oak trees and up to the front porch. Once I ventured as far as the trees, to get a better glimpse of the house itself. It was a sunny day and when I saw it, the house looked more sad than evil, just broken down and abandoned. Still, I felt good about overcoming my fear and taking a closer look.

Naturally, I boasted about my adventure like any eight-year-old would, and the other kids on my street were duly impressed. Even Lanky Jones, whose dad was going to buy him a car next summer, had nodded with respect at my brave venture. Then freckle faced Molly had to go and ruin it all by saying she didn’t believe me. She wanted proof!

I don’t hit girls, but if I did, I would have hit Molly for sure. There was a smile on her face like she didn’t even care if I was telling the truth or not. She just wanted to cause trouble for me, and it worked. Soon some of the other kids, most of them older than me, began to question the truth of my tale.

“You did NOT walk all the way past the trees!” Molly shrieked.

“Did too!” I said.

“Did not!” she said.

“Want me to do it again?” I said. “I will, and you can see for yourself.” I felt fairly certain I could find the courage to walk up there a second time, especially with the likes of Lanky Jones paying me notice. I should have guessed that simply walking up to the trees was not enough for Molly.

“If you’re so brave,” she said, “why don’t you do it on Halloween night?”

The other kids all liked that idea. There was much murmuring, nodding of heads and grinning. I was the only one who didn’t seem to care much for Molly’s plan, but what could I do? I was the one who had been bragging and now I was caught. It was a fiendishly smart plan. Halloween was not only the creepiest, most evil night of the year, it was also one of the few nights we kids were allowed to go out after dark. Molly smirked and sensed victory.

“Are you scared?” she asked mockingly.

“No,” I said, trying my best to puff out my chest and look as tough as Lanky. “I’m not scared. It makes no difference to me if it’s halloween.”

And so it was. Eventually summer ended and school began again, and I hoped no one would remember Molly’s dare by the time October came around. But of course, I was wrong. With two weeks to go, she made sure to bring it up in front of everyone.

The next day, I walked by the old house again. I stopped and took a good look. The yard was overgrown and the trees were large and gnarly, but it was the house that was truly scary. Slowly, I began to hatch a plan to get back at Molly. I would go up the path as far as the trees using a flashlight to light my way. Then, as I got to the old oaks, I would click the light off and quickly hide. Maybe even let out a scream. And then I would wait and watch as the others began to worry, slink off home, and the next time I saw them, I would pretend to not remember anything at all. My plan was spooky and creepy and perfect.

And then the night was upon us; it was halloween. Six of us were gathered in front of the Evil House. Lanky Jones was there, so were the pudgy Wesley twins, and Anna Milton – the prettiest girl in my class, invited especially by Molly just so I wouldn’t back out at the last second.

As confident as I had been in my plan, my cool went out the window as soon as I was standing there, looking down the narrow path of tiles, leading into darkness. It was different at night. It felt like the darkness could eat you up if you ventured too far into it. If you squinted, you could barely make out the outline of the house itself, like a monster waiting in the dark. I reminded myself that I didn’t have to go all the way to the house, and that the trees wouldn’t harm me, just hide me from sight.

The twins both hooted and cheered as I took the first few steps. I looked back and saw Anna with her eyes wide open, Molly with her familiar smirk, and Lanky Jones cracking his knuckles in what I chose to read as a sign of respect. Then I turned on my flashlight and turned back towards the dark path before me.

“Remember,” Molly yelled, “it’s bad luck to step on the cracks.”

Everyone laughed, even Lanky, as I involuntarily looked down at my feet. If she was right, I was doomed, I thought at the sight of no less than three cracks coming together under my shoe. I shook off her attempt to rattle me, and kept walking.

It seemed like forever before I got to the trees, I could see the house more clearly now and a chill ran down my spine. Was the front door open? Was that the faintest flicker of a light in there? Or maybe just the light from my flashlight being reflected off a shard of broken glass? The wind picked up and seemed to whisper in my ear. I had to hurry up and hide before my courage ran out.

I screamed and turned off my light. Then I ran to the nearest tree and hid behind its thick, knotted trunk. I could see the other kids out there under the street lights. They were standing on the tips of their toes, peering into the dark, trying to spot me. It made me smile when I saw Anna say something with a worried look on her face. I could not make out the words, but she pointed towards the house as she spoke, and Molly did not seem too pleased about it. The two twins were fidgeting. As seconds became minutes, I felt less scared myself, now that I was watching my plan unfold. I had to bite my lip to avoid laughing.

Finally, Lanky Jones stepped forward and said something. He pulled out a flashlight of his own and pointed up the path. The twins turned white and tried to back away, but the other kids wouldn’t have it, and soon they all started up the path. I began to worry that they would spot me. With nowhere to run, I pressed myself up against the tree and tried to blend in. As long as Lanky’s light did not sweep directly across me, I had a chance of staying hidden.

Soon enough, I could hear them approaching.

“I really don’t think this is a good idea,” said one of the Wesleys, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“Shut up and keep walking.” said Lanky Jones.

“Look!” Molly said, her voice shaky and low. “The front door.”

“Do you think he went inside?” Anna asked Molly.

“We’re going in to find him,” Lanky said. “We all heard the scream. If he is trouble, we owe it to him to help.”

“I don’t owe him anything,” Molly protested.

“You dared him to do this,” Lanky shot back. “You owe him more than the rest of us combined.”

“Hurry up,” Anna said. “if he is in trouble we shouldn’t waste time fighting about it.”

They were at the front porch now. I could hardly believe they were all about to go inside, looking for me. The door being open was a lucky break, I thought, and again I almost burst out laughing. In the meantime, the old porch creaked loudly as other kids climbed the steps to the front door. Quiet as mice they went inside, one at a time.

As the last Wesley stepped inside the door suddenly slammed shut behind him. The sound was so loud, I thought my heart was going to jump right out of my throat. I screamed then, I’m not going to lie about that, and ran as fast as I could back home. That was the last time I ever went trick or treating. And no one ever saw Molly, the Wesley twins, Anna or Lanky Jones again.

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In the last few weeks it seems my world has gotten smaller in almost every sense. It started when my wife’s health took a hit and she was diagnosed with not one, but two serious conditions, one of which was cancer. This kind of news will make everything else seem unimportant, all of a sudden. The fact that I lost my mom to cancer in May is probably not helping any.

The good news is that they caught it super early, and that the doctors are expecting a full recovery from the cancer part. There’s still the other issue of course, which will require surgery and several weeks of recovery. The ugly kind, where they give you hardcore meds just to deal with it. Right now, we are both mentally and physically preparing for what’s ahead.

Since we are both independent businesses owners, this situation has another effect on us – neither one is working much, while the bills keep piling up. This is added stress that we really don’t need. We are not on the brink of starvation or anything like that, but we are definitely feeling the crunch. Which is what led me to write this post.

If you are a freelancer or a one-man band, do yourself this favor: cover your bases in case of an emergency. Get health insurance. Let me repeat that. Get. Health. Insurance. As an independent, insurance is expensive and if you’re bootstrapping it is easy to tell yourself you’ll add it later. Don’t. Bite the bullet and pay the man. Cancer doesn’t wait until you’re ready.

You’ll want a support network. We have had daily messages from friends and family, checking in and offering help and encouragement. This support is crucial, especially if you’d like to try and stay positive.

Anybody working for themselves will be used to being immersed in the work, and powering through to get the job done. You may even enjoy it. But when illness hits the household, that is taken away. Focus shifts, and staying on top of business quickly fades into the background. It has to. If you can, put a little aside for a rainy day. You might even look into getting a backup in place, if you have clients who need regular pampering or can’t be rescheduled.

Whatever you do, don’t just sit there thinking it will happen to someone else. It’s not a gamble worth taking.

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The following is from my notes to “The Whale Omen” – a fantasy roleplaying adventure based off of an older project – my very first attempt at writing a novel, when I was still but a young and innocent teenager. That novel was in itself inspired by an experimental gaming campaign I co-ran with a friend.

I love how ideas can sit and fester for years, blend with other ideas and influences, and come back out looking all new and shiny again.

The reason it came back, was that I started reading the excellent fantasy series “A Song of Ice and Fire” by George R. R. Martin. That made me think of the novel I had written (which I am not ashamed to say, barely deserves even getting mentioned in the same paragraph as mr. Martin’s epic series), which in turn inspired me to want to rewrite it now, 15+ years later. The only thing is, I’m already not writing one novel.

Still, I could not shake it. So, I turned it into a gaming adventure once more, which may yet inspire even further writing later.

The point I’m making is this: the good ideas can be recycled, transmuted and disguised many times over the years. The trick is to keep working with it, or at least that’s my theory.

The Whale Omen Intro

“The Whale Omen” is fantasy with a nordic medieval flavor. The characters are from a clan at the top of Rockbite Bay in the far and barren north, a village of whalers. Magic exists in this world but is rare and regarded with fear and suspicion. The characters are skilled but normal people with a personal tie to this village; it is their home. Once coastal raiders, the people here now catch whales and do trade instead, and live longer, happier lives for it.

Every spring, whales in great numbers pass by and the whalers go out with nets and harpoons. The villagers use everything from their catch. But this year is different. The whales came late, and when they arrived, they were all dead. Bloated, foul smelling carcasses floated past the village for three days.

Many think it is an omen, and the survival of the village is at stake. No whales means nothing to trade but a few sheep and barrels of salted herring. Not enough.

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