Light in the Darkness

It’s that time of year again; we switched to wintertime last week. An extra hour of sleep, yes, but seemingly endless hours of darkness. We’re entering that period in Sweden when daylight lasts barely six hours—if we’re lucky. Waking up in the dark. Going to work in the dark. Coming home in the dark. You get the picture.

Although I know this will happen every year, it still creeps up on me like a slow-moving fog. Suddenly, I’m tired, stiff, unmotivated, hungry for carbs, craving sweets, and not particularly eager to go out after 4 p.m. The darkness affects me more with age, coupled with the fact that I’m an empty nester.

When my children were still at home, there were school runs, activities, appointments, and homework to distract us from the heaviness. Now, without that constant motion, I really feel it. The quiet. The downtime. The clock ticking ever so slowly.   

But I know this mindset isn’t healthy and won’t change nature’s cycle. So, every November, I remind myself to seek the light—to resist the dark lull that inevitably settles over my surroundings and find warmth, creativity, and inspiration amid the stillness. Here are a few little things that help keep my spirits (and creativity) up when the day dims:

• Watching good TV series. It’s hard to beat staying in and getting lost in a good show. Lately, I’ve been hooked on The Diplomat, The Morning Show, TASK, and Slow Horses. Superb acting, strong characters, and sharp dialogue always captivate me and spark my imagination.

• Going to the movies. That said, there’s still nothing like sitting in a cozy cinema, surrounded by strangers, and collectively watching images flash across a big screen. Fågel Blå—the charming, old-fashioned theatre where I had my book release—and Bio Capitol are my favorite places to see both classic films and new releases.

• Lighting candles. This is pure Scandinavian therapy. I love wood-burning or musky scents, and the flickering glow instantly transforms a room into a warm, mood-enhancing cocoon.

• Taking a daily walk. Even if the sky is gray or the air wet with drizzle (which is often), I try to go outside and walk for at least thirty minutes. The fresh air and shifting scenery—trees, city lights, people going about their lives—always lift my energy and help reorient my mind.

• Setting a beautiful table. I buy seasonal flowers, switch up my porcelain, and make comforting recipes like butternut squash soup or beef bourguignon. It may only be my husband and me, or my book club, but the act of elevating the everyday gives me immense satisfaction.

• Reading. I’ve been poring over back issues of The New Yorker and picking up novels that have waited patiently on my TBR pile. It’s been satisfying to read something I already own rather than reflexively chasing the buzziest new title, and I’m finally digging into Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow.

• Playlists. Music is an instant energy shift. I create playlists for every mood—dance, ambient chill, workout—and put them on while cooking or folding laundry. The endorphin rush of a good soundtrack is better than caffeine to get me through that mid-afternoon dip.

• Gathering with friends. Many of my friends are also fighting the fall slump, and we’ve all made a point to be more intentional about connection. Lunches, dinners, or spontaneous fikas where conversation and laughter fill the air remind me that we’re all slogging through this season together—making us appreciate the light, when it returns, even more.

What do you do to get through this time of year?

Falling Forward: Finding Renewal in Autumn

I love the month of September. More than January 1st, it feels like the true start of a new season: a fresh page, a clean slate. Recharged after the summer holidays, September’s crisp air and golden hues signal that it’s time to get down to business—by diving into something new or tackling those projects that have been waiting in the wings.

This September has been especially exciting for me. On the 3rd, I toasted the release of Nornöns eko at Fågel Blå Bio, an iconic movie theatre in Stockholm. One hundred and twenty guests joined me to launch my fourth novel into the world. I love book parties; to me, they’re like birthdays. I was filled with anticipation and loved planning the event, picking my outfit, and surrounding myself with so many kind faces. In today’s uncertain, fast-moving world, let's celebrate whenever and however we can. My gratitude toward the friends and readers who carved time out of their busy schedules to be there was immense. Writing is such a solitary endeavor, and their interest, encouragement, and support fueled this project. Without them, finishing the novel would have been far more difficult. I hope they felt the depth of my appreciation.

The evening included an author conversation with literary aficionado Johanna Lundin. We discussed my new novel’s themes, inspiration, and writing process, and I received so much thoughtful feedback about our discussion. I’m a book groupie and love hearing these exchanges, but for many of my guests, it was a first. I was glad to see that they embraced my intention.

Since the launch, I’ve delighted in seeing photos of the book out in the world. I must admit that these sightings never get old—whether they’re poolside, on a flight, or on a bookshelf! The book feels so much more real when it’s in a reader’s hands, bridging the space between my mind and theirs. One never knows how the story will land, which is both exhilarating and scary. Therefore, I was especially touched by a message from a friend: “...I’ve been completely hooked, and binge-read most of it, but now I’m forcing myself to slow down. I want to savor every page and stretch out the experience a little longer...”

I exhaled after reading her words. It was the very first reaction I’d received about my novel, and I was so happy to hear she was invested in the plot and characters. While I don’t expect glowing reviews from every reader, it was a relief to know that someone had connected with the story.

The next big event this month was my actual birthday. While I’m well past the age of putting the exact number of candles atop my cake, I still love marking the date as something special, not just a regular day. Over the past year, I’ve had two surgeries: one on my foot and another on my shoulder. Nothing major, but enough to bring discomfort and months of physical therapy. My recovery has gone smoothly, yet I’m also aware that I’m a little stiffer than before—and I sometimes get a serious dose of brain fog! Change is underway, so my birthday wish is the gift of good health—strength, agility, and endurance—especially since my beloved mother passed away from pancreatic cancer at fifty-eight. With each year that brings me closer to that number, I become hyperaware of how precious and unpredictable time can be.

But after the rollercoaster of my writing life, I also want to give myself another kind of gift: permission to focus less on external goals and more on nurturing my inner self and overall well-being—moving my body, caring for my mind, strengthening relationships, setting boundaries, and rebooting my creativity. This may include starting another book—or it may not. I want things to flow organically, without pressure or expectation, and to follow where my curiosity and spirit lead me.

That’s how I’m choosing to step into this new season.

On the Brink of My Fourth Book

In less than a week, on August 29th, my fourth novel, Nornöns eko, will be released. It took me four years to write, and along the way, it went through several changes: I shifted the POV from third to first person, rewrote the inciting moment to raise the stakes, and aimed to make the text more intimate, vivid, and emotionally charged. I wanted to entertain and provide escape, but I also didn't shy away from sensitive topics. Whether or not I’ve succeeded is for readers to decide, but I gave it all I could. I waver between feeling deeply proud of the finished product and being utterly exhausted by the entire manuscript! Like, I couldn’t possibly read it ever again. More than once, I asked myself: Does the world really need this book? Another novel in an ocean of titles published each year? What am I adding to the conversation? And what even is my conversation?

Here’s what I’ve come to realize: the world may not have needed this book, but I did. Once the characters started speaking to me—whispering that their stories were incomplete—I knew I had to continue Zoë, JG, and Linn’s journey from Nornö to the place they could finally call home, both physically and emotionally. I also believe my voice is unique—not because I consider myself more talented than other writers (there are countless authors I admire who I think do it better), but because my life experiences as a Haitian American who relocated to Sweden, married a Swede, and raised a family here give me a perspective that isn’t often represented. I feel I have something worthwhile to contribute: stories that transcend boundaries, explore unlikely relationships, and present nuanced narratives that are not given enough space in mainstream literature, especially in Sweden.

I’m nervous as Nornöns eko moves from “Notify Me” to “Available” online and onto shelves. But before that happens, here are my takeaways from the long and winding journey of bringing this book to life:

1. When one path closes, find another. My experience with a previous editor was extremely difficult. It left me doubting myself and tempted to abandon the book. But the characters wouldn’t let me. Their voices kept me going until Nornöns eko found a new place to flourish.

2. Seek professional guidance when you’re stuck. I worked with a coach to strengthen my author mindset and a developmental editor to help shape the manuscript. Those investments made a huge difference.

3. Lean on the writing community. Sharing struggles (and the occasional triumph) with other writers has been a reminder that I’m not alone. Their encouragement and advice were invaluable during moments of doubt.

4. The publishing-industrial complex is as chaotic and competitive as ever. There are more books on the market, fast-moving trends, and an industry landscape that is full of contradictions. I’ve felt disillusioned and anxious, but I believe that good writing, compelling stories, and persistence still win out.

5. Enough with eternal gratitude. I was conditioned to be endlessly grateful just to be published. Gratitude matters, but let’s be clear: without writers, there is no publishing industry. I’d love to see more respect, transparency, and professionalism from agents and editors. Ghosting and condescending form letters shouldn’t be the norm. With AI and technological change disrupting everything, valuing real storytellers is more important than ever.

6. It takes the time it takes. I used to beat myself up for not writing quickly, but I juggle family, volunteer commitments, travel, and life between two countries. Although my routine is far from perfect, the years of gestation and editing made Nornöns eko stronger. If I’d forced it out in a year, it wouldn’t be the book it is today.

7. Working with the Swedish translation was both easier and difficult this time around. Over twenty-five years in Sweden has sharpened my ear for the language, letting me catch tone and rhythm more easily. Still, it also made me pickier, agonizing over single words to preserve the characters’ voices and emotional weight. I had to balance trusting the translator’s expertise with following my author instincts.

8. Be clear with your team. No one knows your book like you do. With this novel, I communicated my vision more confidently than ever before. Four books in, I feel more seasoned, more certain about what I want.

9. Social media matters. Like it or not, an online presence is essential for a middle-aged, mid-list writer like me. The opportunities for connection are extraordinary, and I’ve enjoyed learning new skills and creating content to engage with readers.

10. Readers make it all worthwhile. Above all, I’m grateful to the readers who connected with Sommaren på Nornö and wanted more. To friends, colleagues, and the literary community—online and in person—who encouraged me every step of the way: thank you. You’ve kept me going.