The wait is over

My new book is out and I want to offer you the opportunity to win a copy. Join the Goodreads Give Away. It is open until the 15. June 2015. Take me to Goodreads to win a copy of Devil’s Touch – click here.


Add Devil’s Touch to your to-read list at Goodreads   Devil's Touch


This book is different from my first novel Dancing with Life, and from what I expected it should be. It kind of just took over.

During writing I keep asking my protagonist the following 3 questions:

  • What price are you willing to pay for your dream?
  • Which price is too high?
  • And if a threshold is crossed, willing or unwillingly could the new situation become the new normal, minute by minute, hour by hour without you really noticing the change?

My protagonist took me places I didn’t expect to go, and didn’t want to go. I guess, I didn’t know her as well as I thought.



The Book is published in both English (to buy Devil’s Touch at Amazon – click her) and in Danish (to buy at Devil’s Touch at Saxo – click her).

You can down load an excerpt – click here or read it at Amazon and Goodreads.

3 Months Have Passed

Late Snow
Late Snow


Ink Droplets3 months have now passed since I wrote the last word in my new book; 3 months spend on things I wanted to try for some time. I made a book trailer for my old book. Unfortunately due to some software difficulties I am not able to save it in a video format that I can upload; so I am waiting for a software update. In the meantime I wrote down all the thoughts I went through in regard to the content so while you are waiting for the trailer the next blog will contain these thoughts.

I also jointed a new site ThirdScribe where Reader and Authors can meet. This site has a modern interface and authors have the possibility to get their own sub-site. Further it is every easy to share the content with your friends; and for once it is easy to buy the book you fall in love with, as direct links takes you to your preferred publisher. Thank you ThirdScribe.

And finally 2 days ago I started editing my new book, and the first chapter is now in second draft. I still like it just as much as when I wrote it. I am always nervous when I start the editing process; do the story hold up or is my memory playing a trick on me. But it isn’t. One thing will change, the title. That was expected as I start out with a working title, and as the story changes so must the title – see Like Bilbo the Hobbit”. I have started the book trailer and thereby stayed truth to what my next blog will tell you.

A voice I can’t hear

I just removed my hands from the keyboard. I done, I have written my second book and the visual proof is clearly looking back at me from the screen of my computer; the first draft. I feel drained now, it is like something that belonged to me for the last 5 months, no longer does. As if I have lost it.

I am now going to spend a few weeks away from the book trying to forget; so when I come back I will be able to see it, not with the eyes of writer but with a stranger’s. Giving me the freedom to cut, rewrite and add like it isn’t my lifeblood but the lifeblood of somebody else, a voice I can’t hear.

Looking back writing this book was different from the last one I published Dancing With Life. Writing Dancing With Life was very much writing from A to B to C, maybe the structure of the book divided into time frames made it easier; this new book keep changing and two times I had to pause for several weeks, as it lead me into narrow paths making it difficult to continue, as small storylines keep popping up to participate in the main story.

Now turning off the computer I feel I am turning off what was with me 24 hours a day; and are now looking forward to re-reading, taking it into my heart instead of my mind.

Excerpt from Dancing With Life


Like Bilbo the Hobbit

Writing Table: The last blog I wrote got me think about the way I work. It doesn’t fit into any of the How To Books. So why does it work for me when it is all 2 Digit Serial Number-IMG_2904092413wrong?


The answer is simple:

I go on an adventure!

From when I was 16 and until I was 20 I wrote 5 novels that probably will stay in my drawer, but they gave me the knowledge of when writing feels natural and how writing stays a joy to me; and I would like to share this with you.

I always have a working title; actually the working title is often the one to kick-start the story and with the title usually comes a question. The working title can be words taken from a sentence, a quote; I have a book full, or just something I heard – maybe on the bus this morning.

Then I decide on the mood of the book and where I want it to end. I have an idea of who my main character is, and very importantly a draft timeline usually only a starting and end point, I then keep building it.

Then it is time to seat myself in a comfortable sofa with a big cop of tea and my laptop, and I start my adventure. As I write the places and characters start to form, sometimes I wonder where they come from and where the scenes have hidden in my brain, as they can be so unlike me as a person. Sometimes I have to pull myself together to write some of the scenes because of what they do to the charters.

To work as described means that I never know if my main charter stays the main character or if somebody else takes over as the writing progresses. To me the process is an utter joy, I pack my bag pack and like Bilbo the Hobbit who put one foot in front of the other, I put one word after the other.

I would never have guessed

Ink Droplets:  When I wrote the last blog post I would never have guessed where I would be with my book when the summer vacation was over.

I would never have guessed that I could not leave the old material behind and just go on to write a completely different book. Some of the scenes from the old book kept popping up and all of a sudden the new one didn’t move forward. So I went back.

The plot of the old story still didn’t make sense, but I saw a possibility to twig it a bit, and it started to make a lot more sense than the first time around. I also saw a possibility to make use of some of the scenes I wrote in the dairy application within the new plot, the ones I like the best.

So the two books with the working titles Till Death Do Us Part and Dreams Die With Pain is now in the process of merging into one book. I keep the working title Dreams Die With Pain as it is setting the feel for the novel. I started merging the two on 25th of July and am now when I am writing this blog 35.000 words into the novel. There is a steady flow in the writing and the story develops by it self.

It just proves that I sometimes need to take a step back, get my mind of the story, do something completely different and then go back.

I was applying every delaying tactic I could come up

Cover of "Akira Kurosawa's Dreams"
Cover of Akira Kurosawa’s Dreams

  Ink Droplets: Weeks have passed now since I printed the 81 pages containing the 12,190 words what was going to be my new book. I wouldn’t say that the past weeks have been easy. The frustration was at times evident to my surroundings, as I couldn’t find what it was my main character really wanted and where that should take her. So I wrote a few lines now and then, but the story didn’t take off as it usually does.

One evening a couple of weeks ago when I was applying every delaying tactic I could come up with to avoid writing, I downloaded a small app for keeping a journal. Neat little program called Day One. The next evening I was again applying my tactics to avoid writing, but got to think of a film I saw a long time ago – Akira Kurosawa’s Dreams – Explore at YouTube. I still vividly remember when I was in the movie theater watching the film, it made me sweat and then freeze and feel every feeling I could imagine. He is a true master at playing our emotional strings. So I thought, why not daily write a scene in the journal to make the same thing happen. When I had finished that thought I smiled: Wow for a challenge – I go for it.

After writing these entries for a week a story started building around them. And that is the way I am going to take now. The other story and the 12,190 words must wait, this is the story I have in me right now.

Synopsis and plot? Well half a page and it works for me.

This is how my new book looks

2-Digit-Serial-Number-IMG_1808032913  Ink Droplets: Everything was going so well. In a mind map I had drawn up the plot, made all the descriptions of the characters and places to occur in the novel, the target for how much to write each day was decided and my Scrivener was set up. I was so ready! I started writing. What a joy. The words came in a steady flow and pages just filled the screen of my computer – 81 pages in record time and I was enjoying every minute. Then all of a sudden I hit a brick wall, and it was solid. The plot and the whole story all of a sudden made no sense to me…

The plot was OK, but would not make you reflect. Was I going to write a book that I did not have my heart in? After a couple of weeks of reflection the answer was very clear to me. No, I was not!

So all of it ended up in a pile on the floor. And there it has been for some days now – to much amusement for my cat. Well, I still believe that the chapters I have written are good and I still would like to use them. Now the question is: What should be around them to make the story come alive and create that bobble of reality a book is.

Let me introduce you to my book,

Click image to order


   Writing Table: I already presented myself to you; so now let me introduce you to my book. To do so I give you Chapter One; the book is published in English and Danish. You find the blurb of the book at My Books.

Happy reading

Her eyes catch the first snowflakes that blend with the movements of the wind. Soon the whirls of snow dance like light veils outside the window. She bends forward and rests her elbows on the white windowsill. She feels a slight cold from the window, but the living room is warm, and she can still smell the tomato soup and the bread she toasted earlier in the evening. She watches how the snow, that has now worked its way through the maze of the wind, stains the asphalt. She can see her own reflection in the dark window, but has no time to dwell on it for long before a sound catches her attention. A car door slams with a surprisingly loud noise in the white world outside. Then the cat’s nose touches her cheek looking for love and attention.

Almost automatically, her hand strokes the cat’s head before it grips the handle of the mug and her attention returns to the cold surface of the window. Only this time she doesn’t look at the snow. Instead she searches out her own reflection. At first glance the reflection looks strange and unknown, and she almost jumps when she slowly recognizes herself. She becomes aware of the smell of coffee. The lines in her face are deeper than she remembers. The dark hair is a little tousled around her face. The reflection seems remote and a little sad to her. The cat’s eyes meet hers in the window and for a while they seem locked in each other’s search. She puts the cup down again, but that little moment of inattention has unlocked the cat’s eyes from hers. This results in another little push from its nose. She smiles as she looks at the cat and lets her hand glide over its head and continue down its back. The cat slightly closes its eyes and clearly enjoys her repeated movements. Slowly it begins to purr – a quiet sound at first, but growing gradually louder.

“What if I had known what I know today? What if I had that knowledge earlier in life?”

She has not taken her eyes off the cat as she speaks. It sits there quietly with eyes half-closed, just receiving, while it keeps on expressing its pleasure loudly.

“How many mistakes do you think I could have avoided? Hmm – and how many do you think I would have made anyway? It’s as if I keep repeating my mistakes over and over – and it even surprises me every time.”

Slowly she stands up, moving her shoulders up and down. She moves her head from side to side and then back and forth. She touches the muscles in her neck and seems satisfied with the result, so she stops. She looks at the amazing dance of the snow in front of her window once more. Every time the flakes are caught in the light of the street lamps, they shine as if they’re blinking. They whirl into the oblivion of the darkness, only to turn up in the light again with a new beauty. She smiles to herself and turns away. She thinks. For a long time, she stands completely still before she almost imperceptibly shakes her head. Then she walks over to the living room door where she suddenly stops. A smile spreads over her face as she reaches for the top shelf of the bookcase.

“I have dusted you so many times without ever really relating to you.”

Her eyes follow the notebook with its orange plastic cover as she takes it down from the shelf. She notices the pattern of the cover and scratches it slightly with her fingernail.


She turns to the cat.

“I bought this because I meant to start a diary.”

Her finger picks at the corner of the notebook.

“I never started it. I was always too busy.”

She looks at the cat still sitting in the window, but it doesn’t notice her. Its tail moves from side to side, and she knows that it has seen something interesting in the street. She looks down at the notebook and tilts her head a little. She sighs quietly and walks over to the window to look down into the street, but she can’t see what’s so interesting. She stays there a little while. The cat’s tail rhythmically sweeps over the painted wood of the windowsill – never seeming to stop. There is nothing there. She looks at the cat that still doesn’t pay her any attention and tiredly shrugs her shoulders, puts the notebook down and turns out the light as she leaves the living room.

“Bed time, miss pussycat.”

The cat turns its head and looks after her as she leaves, before turning its attention back to the street below.

However, it’s not long before she hears the familiar thump of the cat landing on the parquet floor. It looks around the living room, sits down and scratches its neck. Finally, everything seems to be OK and it follows her into the bedroom.

© Tina Lindegaard //

Are you interested in buying – here is where to go for the English version and for the Danish version.

Let me present the author to you,

Fotografi den 26-02-12 kl. 14.16

Tina Lindegaard was born in 1963 when the world lost its innocence with the murder of John F. Kennedy, and when a song became the symbol of one man’s dream that became the dream of thousands.

Tina Lindegaard was born in a provincial town in Denmark and spent her first 20 years in a small town where nature was never far away. She moved to Copenhagen, which is still her home. Her character is formed by the natural surroundings of her childhood, and a busy career that has not always been in tune with her upbringing. These contrasts have created a field of tension with lots of room for creativity, and formed a multi-faceted view of human nature.