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It’s a new year so the perfect time to reflect (read: to feel blue). These past few months I went through some huge changes in my life. Decisions I had to face, choices I had to make, and the infite pondering over whether I chose the right path. My head says yes, but my heart screams songs of sadness, discomfort, and loneliness.


What changed?

End of last year I moved countries, to a city that I know but never lived in. I started a new job, one that whispers: “imposter, imposter” each time I look in the mirror. I moved into a new flat, with people who I’m still getting to know. Said goodbye to some friends along the way (we still talk, but FaceTime is a bi...), and one more definite goodbye. Bigger than I've ever known. A goodbye that truly took away a piece of my old self. It’s tough.


Why is it tough?

Tough is actually not the right word: it’s terrifying, uncomfortable, lonely, and awfully painful at times. Why did I leave my old life behind? Why did I decide to change every single thing about my existence in the span of three period cycles. The answer I give is simple: “I am investing in my future self. Therefore, I moved to a city where I am closer to family, started a job where I know I am able to grow, found a place to live where my past self would’ve loved to be…” So why do I feel so much pain?



What do experts say?

"Nothing is irreversible, change takes time, it is okay to feel uncomfortable…” These are sentences I’ve heard countless times in the past few months. And I know them to be true. The person we thought we were is now changing, and we have to do some mental adjustment to accommodate this new view of ourselves. Thus the term: Psychological Growing Pains.


Remember when you were a kid and would complain about your knees hurting or your back hurting for no apparent reason? They would feel achy and sore for what seemed like days. And when you complained to your mother about the pain, she would say, “It’s just growing pains.” Just as physical growth causes physical discomfort, psychological growth can cause psychological discomfort. The stress and strain caused by thinking about things in new and foreign ways can create a cognitive dissonance where your long-held perspectives are challenged by alternative views and ideas. - Dr. Berney, licensed psychologist

How to cope?

Journaling, meditation, exercise… those are the easy answers. But the truth to the matter is that the best healer is time. That can be frustrating to an impulsive person like myself, because to me time feels like an enemy, not a friend. But it is my friend. In fact right now, it’s my bestest of friends. In a world where I don’t feel at home, time seems to be the only thing I can hold onto.


The best advice I ever received:

The advice that people give offers some comfort, but doesn’t help ease the worries. What do they know, after all? They might be wrong. But years ago, during one of one of my Psychological Growing Pain periods, one of these people gave me a piece of advice. Back then it didn’t mean much (again, what do they know?). But looking back, I see how valuable this little thought was. They said: “Will your worries still matter a year from now?”


And the answer is:

No. Probably not. I will have new things to worry about, new pains to take care of. Looking back at the worries I had back then, it seemed like I was making a mountain out of a molehill. This, of course, depends on the magnitute of your situation. But in most cases, this small thought is relevant and true. I smile at my younger self who was so preoccupied with climbing over that enormous mountain. It now seems so... insignificant.


So I will give myself a year to grow. Because only time will tell. Truly. I hate clichés but they exist for a reason. Eventually my discomfort and unknown surroundings will become my new comfort zone, the old pains will seem like molehills, and I will hopefully grow to be a few centimeters taller.


Baffled. Amazed. Shook.

Words can't express my feelings (though perhaps "imposter syndrome" describes it well). I hadn't posted anything about this news yet, seeing as I could never find the right words. And I'm still struggling to do so. But now it's time to finally post my (mediocre) attempt at telling everyone that I got a book deal.


In the Spring of 2020, I had made a big decision: I was going to write the story of my great-grandmother. This was an incredibly daunting task, seeing as my only knowledge about writing books came from WattPad and YouTube videos.

At the simple-minded age of 8, the idea of writing a full novel seemed easy. "You just sit down and write", tiny Mags always thought. So began my journey of writing The Pearl, a book about a teenage boy who loses his mum (to some unnamed disease) and goes on a quest to finding the love of his life. Spoiler alert: after decades of bad dates, break-ups and disappointing attempts at finding true love, he eventually realises that... he's been in love with his best-friend, Tristan, this whole time.

The end.

As much as I adore my 8 year old self for writing this little Dutch 200 page gem, it isn't exactly publishing (let alone reading) material.
At the age of 14, I made another attempt, but this time the book had a sci-fi/dystopian/pandemic style narrative. Again, not my best work. But I digress.

So in 2020, I wanted to write about something much more personal and terrifyingly true. A story that I wanted to write, not for the sake of completing a novel, but rather to bring a person (and their journey) to life. A story that my grandmother had told me on a quiet evening in Amsterdam. A story that I thought I knew so well, about a person that I didn't know enough about.

So, in the Spring of 2020 I gathered all the research I needed (letters, documents, photographs) and emailed those who could perhaps give me some of the missing pieces to finish my puzzle. And then I wrote. Well, the writing part didn't come easy... at first.

It took me about three months to type my first sentence. Then it took me another month to type the second and third. Then silence... The very few people who knew I was writing this book occasionally asked how it was going. "Great", I'd say, "I'm just working on the structure and then I'll start." What I wasn't telling them was that I had been changing and re-changing and triple-changing the structure just so I could procrastinate the writing part.

And then one day I woke up on a rainy October morning and opened my laptop. That document on my desktop, the one with the three mediocre sentences was staring me in the eyes. I deleted the document. No, I wasn't going to start my book with that crap. Hanna wouldn't be proud. Instead, I decided to open a new document, and I began with the sentence: "Hanna, you are completely and utterly insane...", and from then on the writing just... happened. No forcing it, no shame, no self-doubt.

In a way the lockdowns gave me a lot of time to continue developing the story . Writing was a great coping mechanism during those winter days. It gave me strength to know that when I didn't have anything else going on, I could just open my laptop and immerse myself into Hanna's life.


This blog is now longer than I intended it to be. But before finishing I would just like to share the novel's premise: Amsterdam, 1941. Hanna makes a heart-wrenching decision of abandoning her baby daughter on the corner of a sidewalk. All she can hope for is that they will both survive and reunite when the war is over. That little girl who she left on that street corner is my grandmother.



Hanna will be released on 23 August 2022. More info coming soon...



Until then, I hope that this inspires you and shows that anyone can write a novel. In all honesty, this book almost wrote itself, though I am certain that there are so many great stories out there that are also waiting to be written. Do not hesitate to contact me, I am always happy to go for a coffee or have a virtual chat.
Lots of love,
Magali

Growing up speaking multiple languages is a blessing. It strengthens cognitive abilities, keeps us sharp, is a great conversation starter and looks awesome on our CV's. However, as a writer I've found some flaws with this inherently awesome skill. These are the disadvantages I've found when writing as a bilingual (or multi-lingual) person:

  1. Forgetting words Imagine this: writing a story in English, reading something in French, whilst listening to a voice note from my Dutch mother. In these situations, I completely forget about any grammar, vocabulary or general sentence structure and instead of speaking five languages, I suddenly speak none.

  2. Keeping up with all the languages Seeing as I've been living in the UK for almost 5 years, my English professional proficiency is much more advanced. A couple of weeks ago I received an opportunity by a French-speaking employer and had to send him an email. This gave me the harsh realisation that I had no clue on how to construct a professional sounding email in French. So instead of sending an email I ended up calling him. Turned out I didn't know how to sound professional on the phone either.

  3. Getting lost in translation Stories, anecdotes, jokes... Forget about those. Most things which might be hilarious, meaningful or thought-provoking in one language can sound dull and uninspired in another. The word "gezellig" in Dutch for instance. It's a word used to described a cosy environment, a sociable or enjoyable atmosphere. However, there is no word in English (or French) that can properly translate this saying. Lunch with friends can be "gezellig", watching TV with your partner on a cold winter day can be "gezellig", a hip restaurant with a funky interior can also be "gezellig". How do you translate that?

  4. Making up expressions and sayings This is a terrible habit that I cannot get rid of. I am constantly translating idioms or making up words. "Voilà" is a French word that has no translation in English. One might translate it to“there you have it!” I constantly use this word in English, though one might say that is another cookie (another Dutch saying).


Still, I'm very grateful for this skill and find beauty in switching languages. My parents, brother and I are able to communicate in our common languages. This wonderful skill suddenly feels like a special bond that only we have. Switching from Dutch, to English, to French, whilst sometimes throwing in words from other languages (when we forget how to speak) leads to funny situations and makes this experience even more worth while.



©2024 Magali Jeger

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