The bulk of my writing last year was in Dutch. The main reason I wrote my novel in my mother tongue was that I was afraid I could not express myself fully in English. Another reason was that the story in part is rooted in my own childhood and bringing together all the layers encompassing it was quite a struggle. Writing in English would add an extra layer that could destroy the balance I so carefully created, somewhere in between poetry and cynicism, survival and destruction, good and bad, sad and a little less sad.
I am now in the process of translating (rewriting) into English. Though I have had many doubts about this project over the years, I do not doubt this decision at all. It is time to break free from the constraints of the Dutch language. So many people could benefit from the awkward but rewarding experience of reading my work. The inner world of a highly sensitive and highly gifted child growing up with very few clues as to how to interact with the outer world, how to “arm” herself and where to turn to for help, not only provides an interesting read, it also provides lots and lots of topics to discuss. Topics that are close to my heart, topics that touch upon things I have discovered and keep discovering when drawing, painting, creating. Basically, topics that surface when I tell my Brain to lie down and take a nap, so that my Core Being can take over.
I’ll discuss philosophy (amongst others Plato, Nietzsche, the stoics), psychology (Dabrowski’s Theory of Positive Disintegration springs to mind), the interaction between Brain, Body, Ego and Core Being, how the inner world affects the outer world (and the other way around), and much much more.
Though there are many brilliant people out there whose brain I pick from time to time, I’m not given to rehashing other people’s knowledge. I am no scholar. I’ll stumble upon issues that make no sense to me, and explore them, question them, hopefully together with you. To this end, Flowtops will be remodeled over time.
For now, I leave you with a draft translation of the first chapter of my novel:
So far, I’ve been a unadventurous baby. The only movements that interest me are those that are powerful enough to take me somewhere else, offering the freedom that was promised to me.
Who birthed this promise, I cannot remember. Things elude me, slowly but doggedly, in keeping with my motor development. I had better learn to speak properly, before it is too late. There is this urge to tell about here and there, about before and after. Time is the biggest obstacle of all.
‘Mum-my. Say Mum-my.’
‘Ddddd…’
‘Dad-dy. Say Dad-dy.’
‘Dddddd… Dadddy!’
What was my message again?