TURNING THE PAGE

Happy 2025! We are already halfway through this decade, and it’s amazing how quickly time flies. As I look back on the past five years, I’m filled with gratitude for the experiences and milestones that have shaped me. The publication of Sommaren på Nornö in 2021 marked the beginning of an exciting journey in the Swedish literary world. My daughter graduated from university in 2023 and is working and playing in a bustling metropolis, reminding me of my exhilarating days in the 90s. My son is enjoying his second year of college stateside, and whenever he comes home for breaks, I’m struck by how food shopping and laundry once dominated my life! Empty-nesting has been an adjustment, but my husband and I recently celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary, and the love, bond, and support we share make this phase full of new plans and adventures.

Yet, despite the joy and fulfillment in my personal life, I found myself at a professional crossroads. Books and writing have always been my passion, and having a career as an author has been a dream come true. Therefore, it was with a heavy heart that I parted ways with the publisher of Sommaren på Nornö a year and a half ago. I was super pleased with our collaboration and proud of what the novel had accomplished—selected as a summer serial in over 40 newspapers across Sweden and selling thousands of copies in all formats. We had verbally agreed that I would write a sequel, and after a year, I delivered a completed manuscript. However, months passed without their feedback—despite my multiple attempts at outreach—and I began to doubt their commitment to the project. This lack of clarity and communication was not how I expected our working relationship to be, and the situation eventually became untenable. I ultimately made the difficult decision to move on in order to preserve both my professional and artistic integrity.

My instincts told me I had made the right call, but our “breakup” left me with mixed emotions. I kept wondering what I could have done differently, particularly the importance of securing a signed contract in advance! I felt embarrassed discussing my predicament, afraid of being seen as a failure or overly sensitive. Literary pursuits—reading, writing, blogging—which had once been my haven, became stinging reminders of what I had lost. I became disillusioned with an industry I long revered. To heal, I needed to distance myself from it and shift focus—friends, travel, mentoring—anything to distract me from thinking about my languishing manuscript.

However, with time and reflection, I adopted a more philosophical outlook. I came to believe that these challenges protected me from making choices that would have felt inauthentic. They forced me to confront difficult questions about the kind of author I aspired to be and the collaborators I wanted by my side. I learned to trust the process and have faith that these detours were guiding me toward the right path. I also realized the importance of timing; my book wasn’t meant for the moment I had originally envisioned, prompting me to reassess my goals and priorities.

Once I let go of regrets, my mind opened to different possibilities. I explored new ways to rekindle my passion and reclaim my identity as a writer. Reconnecting with my book was the first step, and I sought the guidance of an independent editor who encouraged me to dig deeper and write without fear. Oftentimes, I felt mentally drained, but the process of revising and refining unlocked creative pathways and brought fresh energy to my manuscript. I also commissioned a Swedish translation and found myself loving the story even more. Svenska språket enriched the narrative, firmly linking the characters and plot to the first book. Although pitching a sequel to new publishers was a hard sell, I developed a more neutral mindset and did not take rejections as personally as I once did. Instead, I began to see them as proof that I was taking risks, putting myself and my work out there. 

As I step into 2025, I am positively buzzing with excitement for the future and sharing Nornö 2.0 with a Swedish audience! Finding valuable lessons in challenging situations wasn't easy or painless, but my transformation—from roadblocks to resilience—restored the power within me and reaffirmed my sense of purpose.

Thank you for reading and your support. I hope your year will be brimming with inspiration, growth, and fulfillment!

All photos by Stefan Anderson.

A SWIFT SHIFT

When my dear friend invited me to Taylor Swift’s Stockholm concert, I hesitated for a myriad of reasons. My tastes—anchored in house music and the anthems of my youth—wouldn’t jibe with Taylor’s tunes. I don’t love going to concerts anymore; the lines, the wait, the crowds. Besides, I’ve already seen many of the big artists—Madonna, Beyoncé, Rihanna, Avicii, Drake, Lenny Kravitz, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Depeche Mode—so I’m good. I also felt I had outgrown this type of concert experience. My daughter had been a huge Miley Cyrus fan but bypassed the Taylor phase. Above all, I’d be returning to Stockholm from New York on the day of the show. After a week away, my jetlag would kick in; how would I stay awake?

Yet my friend’s persuasive powers are unmatched. She posed three questions that struck a chord: “Jenn, aren’t you curious? Don’t you want to know why she’s such a cultural phenomenon? Don’t you want to be a part of the conversation?” Her intellectual argument was compelling. Plus, I sort of suffer from FOMO, so I said yes. She set up a WhatsApp Chat with three other girlfriends and proceeded to plan. The outfits. The playlist. The nails. I was editing my manuscript, so my engagement on this chain was sporadic, but I ordered friendship bracelets once I learned this was a trendy symbol among Swifties. 

I realized something was up when I boarded the Stockholm flight at Newark Airport last Thursday. It was booked solid—and not with the usual reserved Swedish passengers I normally see. Instead, it was swarming with Swifties and buzzing with a different vibe—vibrant, youthful, electric anticipation. Mothers and daughters. Besties. Ex-pat Swedes. All united in their devotion to Taylor. The Stockholm concert tickets, slightly more accessible and affordable, had lured them into a seven-hour transatlantic pilgrimage. When we landed, one of Taylor’s songs filled the cabin, setting the mood. Taylormania had arrived.

I went home, unpacked, and refueled with caffeine. I had googled “Eras Tour” fashion inspo, and there were so many styles—sparkles, Western, Red, folkloric. I shopped my closet and found a silver fringe skirt (last worn on New Year’s Eve ages ago) that seemed Taylor-made (excuse the pun) for the night. At the appointed time, the girls and I met up, admiring each other’s outfits and piling on the friendship bracelets, our curiosity and excitement building.

At Friends Arena, my generous friend had splurged for the Premium package, granting us a smooth passage through the bulging crowd. We enjoyed good food and drinks while waiting for the main event. Sipping Palomas, we surveyed the scene, marveling at its eclectic composition—young, old, girls, boys, women, and men. The creative outfits were a kaleidoscopic feast for the eyes. Sequins and feathers put people in a festive mood, and the energy was infectious.

When one of the ushers announced Taylor would soon be taking the stage, my middle-aged self was relieved there wouldn’t be a delay. We found our seats and caught the last song of the opening act, Paramore, a rock band with a cool alternative sound. Soon after, a line of dancers sashayed onto the stage, each carrying a swath of billowing, pastel-hued fabric in the air. They stopped near the end of the runway stage, and Taylor emerged from below on a raised platform like Venus, bedazzled in a sequined bodysuit and boots, mic in hand. It was a visually captivating moment. The fervor crescendoed when she stopped singing and addressed the crowd. It was her debut performance in Stockholm, and she told the sold-out audience how thrilled she was to be here at last. I felt a rush of Swedish pride. The weather was beautiful, and Stockholm was shining on this pre-summer night, the glowing points of light in the arena reflecting the enthusiasm of her fans.

For the next three hours, Taylor Swift serenaded us through her musical ERAS. Surprisingly, I knew more songs than I expected, a testament to how her music has embedded itself into our consciousness. I noted the diversity of Taylor’s backup singers and dancers, along with the comfortable dynamic they exhibited throughout. Everyone looked like they were having fun! As a fashion devotee, I was mesmerized by her costumes, a dazzling display of materials and embellishments that complemented the songs, shimmering and sweeping across the stage. The production was a spectacle of light and sound, each choreographed move seamlessly executed. The wristband with the pulsating light everyone received upon entry glowed and changed colors, a high-tech evolution from the traditional lighters that once flickered at concerts back in the day.

Taylor was the consummate professional, but it didn’t detract from the artistry. Strutting and singing through a 40+ set list, she made it all look effortless. I swayed and sang along when I could. She established a warm rapport with the audience, sprinkling in a few Swedish phrases and conveying her appreciation for the crowd’s support. We were all smitten.

My girlfriends and I left Friends Arena with smiles on our faces, adrift in a sea of Swifties, processing what we had just witnessed and wondering what Taylor would do after the show. Would she go straight to bed? Where was she staying? The weather was so nice, would she go sightseeing? Imagine if we ran into her?!

My admiration and respect for artists is boundless, and Taylor Swift’s passion for her craft is palpable. Her reflections on composing music through the pandemic resonated with me, as I, too, felt the urge to create amidst the chaos. Watching her perform, I pondered the talent, discipline, focus, and dedication required to achieve such heights of success—the capacity to tune out the noise and negativity and simply engage in the act of creation. It is nothing short of impressive—and inspiring.

This adventure reaffirmed my belief in the artist’s journey: to embrace new experiences with an open mind and an open heart. Though initially reluctant, this concert is now etched in my memory. I’m grateful that my friend was so convincing—and my wristband is still flashing its twinkling, radiant light.

BREEDING READERS

I’ve been a voracious reader my whole life. Reading was my refuge as a young girl who often felt like an outsider—an immigrant kid, unsporty, artsy… Books connected me to characters with similar experiences, exposed me to new adventures, and provided the perfect escape. Television and the playground never stood a chance next to a good book.

However, does being a lifelong bookworm and working writer breed readers?

I regularly read to my young children, made family inspo trips to the bookstore, and gifted books for birthdays and holidays. Not to mention publishing three novels where they were mentioned in the acknowledgments, including one dedicated to them! But once the smartphone era kicked in, I faced heavy competition from social media, YouTube, and Netflix. My kids' interests seemed more visual than literary. They loved book-to-screen adaptations like Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, and Percy Jackson but did not seek out the source material. Along with their rigorous high school courseloads and reading assignments, I understood they might want to detox with sports, music, or a series. Nevertheless, I did wonder if I had given birth to bibliophobes? Did my writerly moodiness turn them off books? Surely, I wasn’t alone in observing that Gen Z (those born in the mid-90s to early-mid 2000s) seemed to have a lukewarm relationship with reading.

I was surprised to learn that what I had noticed in my children—and heard anecdotally from other parents—did not correspond with the data. According to a December 2022 Wattpad report, 55% of Gen Z respondents read once a week or more, 40% read every day, and 79% choose books based on diversity and representation. While 67% read for fun on their phones, they still have a romantic affinity to physical print books and proudly support independent bookstores, libraries, and indie authors. Add BookTok, where they discover and share new titles—generating bestsellers by Colleen Hoover and Emily Henry—and Gen Z put my critique to shame.

Scratching my head, I wondered what was going on with my kids.

Well, it seems like it was a question of timing.

My daughter, Yasmine, graduated from college last year. She studied at a university with an intense Core Curriculum and wholeheartedly embraced the literary and philosophical texts, producing essays and reflections on everything from The Odyssey to The Souls of Black Folk. Once Yasmine began working full-time, she realized she missed the intellectual stimulation. She also wanted relief from her devices and sought a diversion besides screen scrolling for her daily subway ride and lunch break. Following a friend’s suggestion, she read My Year of Rest and Relaxation and then followed up with Nightbitch.

I’ve read neither, but I enjoyed hearing her impassioned take on these buzzy titles. It was obvious to me she had caught the book bug, so I lent her one of my recent favorites, Yellowface. She tore through it, and I wanted to do a happy dance when she remarked that she finally understood my author angst. It took a work of fiction for my struggles to be finally seen! I passed along The Idea of You, and we obsessed over this steamy love story. I couldn’t stop—wouldn’t stop— pressing a new book between her palms or secretly packing The Guest and Cleopatra and Frankenstein into her suitcase. For Christmas, I went into full library-mom mode and curated a gift set with contemporary titles from Zadie Smith and Sally Rooney, among other stellar authors. Many of these novels center on young adults (Gen Zs like Yasmine and millennials) finding their way in life. I love it when Yasmine sends me photos of herself with a book or tells me about her progress. I even sent her to a recent launch event for Tia Williams’ A Love Song for Ricki Wilde and wasn’t surprised when she came back gushing after sharing a few words and a photo with the author. That’s the wondrous alchemy of books.

I encouraged Yasmine to form a Book Club with her college friends; she loved the idea. Who doesn’t like talking over wine and cheese? But more importantly, a reading group fosters candor and connection. Over the years, I’ve had some of the most profound conversations at my various book clubs. Our enthusiasm for reading and a desire for deeper discussions outside the quotidian cracked our protective shells, enabling us to open up in a safe literary space.

I'm relishing this new book bond with my daughter. It has added another dimension to our close relationship, and we can discuss these stories from different perspectives based on our ages and personal experiences. I also think it will make her a stronger beta reader for my future novels, haha! Kidding aside, books are magic because they are not judgemental. They patiently wait for us to come to them. They don’t care if it takes months or years. Books can be the most powerful when they’re read when we need them most, not when we are pressured to read them. Reading invites us to slow down and absorb rather than mindlessly devour content. Words on a page spark our imagination and let us join the story as we interpret the characters and themes.

As for my son, he’s busy with statistics and finance classes, but I couldn’t help gifting him narrative non-fiction books by Michael Lewis, Walter Isaacson, Ben Mezrich, and Daymond John. The complicated characters and business drama sometimes surpass fiction! But there’s no obligation; he may read them now, later, or discover other titles. However, I’m confident that the magnetic pull of reading-for-pleasure will subtly work its spell...