Sif Sigmarsdóttir's Blog

Last week my son took his first proper steps. When he fell flat on his arse, this is what popped into my head:

At what age do we lose the courage to let ourselves just fall flat on our arses?

That same week I handed in the synopsis for my second novel, the sequel to I Am Traitor, to my publisher. The only thing left was transferring the vision that was my novel to the page. Easy, right? Now if only I could get past the first sentence. I sat at my desk, my leg shaking from too much coffee, staring at a blank page and blinking cursor. Obviously the first sentence needed to be just right; it needed to be 100 per cent — 110 per cent if this were the X-Factor; it needed to be perfect, beautiful, amazing, jaw dropping, mind-blowing; it needed to be a sentence worthy of the Nobel Prize for first sentences; it needed to be a first sentence that made all other first sentences on Earth — and in every other part of the universe where writing existed — redundant.

At the end of the week I was a nervous wreck, resentful at my chosen profession and amazed at my self-delusion: how had I ever been so foolish to think that I could actually do this job?

But then I came across an article on Medium.com called Being a Perfectionist Is Killing Your Creativity by Ryan Burney. It was the kick up the backside I so desperately needed. Not only does your obsession with perfection kill your creativity — it sucks the joy out of writing.

A few months ago my mother in law gave me this book:

In it I came across the best writing advice I’ve ever received. Ann is probably best known for her novels Bel Canto and Commonwealth but her memoir This is the Story of a Happy Marriage is an absolute gem.

Ann’s happiest time in the writing process is the time she spends making up the novel in her head.

“The book is my invisible friend, omnipresent, evolving, thrilling,”

she writes.

“This book I have not yet written one word of is a thing of indescribable beauty, unpredictable in its patterns, piercing in its colour, so wild and loyal in its nature that my love for this book, and my faith in it as I track its lazy flight, is the single perfect joy in my life. It is the greatest novel in the history of literature, and I have thought it up, and all I have to do is put it down on paper and then everyone can see this beauty that I see.”

But then comes trouble.

“I reach up and pluck the butterfly from the air. I take it from the region of my head and I press it down against my desk, and there, with my own hand, I kill it. It’s not that I want to kill it, but it’s the only way I can get something that is so three-dimensional onto the flat page. Just to make sure the job is done I stick it into place with a pin. Imagine running over a butterfly with an SUV. Everything that was beautiful about this living thing — all the colour, the light and movement — is gone. What I’m left with is the dry husk of my friend, the broken body chipped, dismantled, and poorly reassembled. Dead. That’s my book.”

And how do you deal with this loss?

“I never learned how to take the beautiful thing in my imagination and put it on paper without feeling I killed it along the way. I did, however, learn how to weather the death, and I learned how to forgive myself for it.”

So how to write the best first sentence in the history of the universe: Forgive yourself. Or as my son’s new trainers would put it: Just do it.

Sif Sigmarsdóttir is an Icelandic columnist and author based in London. Her book, I am Traitor, will be published by Hodder in September 2017. You can pre-order it on Amazon . Sif is represented by Sophie Hicks Agency .

Sign up to Sif’s free and funny newsletter  — or at least free.

How to Write the Best First Sentence in the History of the Universe was originally published in Sif’s journal on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I finally cracked it: My three year old on her bean-bag and my one year old in his hand-me-down take-no-prisoners-pink walker. And Teletubbies. Lots of Teletubbies.

The patent for this setup is pending.

Sif Sigmarsdóttir is an Icelandic author based in London. Her book, I am Traitor, will be published by Hodder in September 2017. You can pre-order it on Amazon . Sif is represented by Sophie Hicks Agency .

Sign up to Sif’s free and funny newsletter  — or at least free.

How to write when the kids are at home was originally published in Sif’s journal on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I always imagined that if — one day — my dream came true this would be the portrait I’d paint:

It turns out that reality looks more like this:

When I first moved from Iceland to the UK fifteen years ago I dreamt of two things:

a) Playing the lead in the musical Cats on the West End
b) Writing a book and seeing it on the shelves in Waterstones

Fortunately for fans of musical theatre I was never offered a role in Cats. It turns out that I’ve got the singing voice of a cat — an actual cat — so out of tune that were it locked up in a box even Schrödinger would want it firmly dead.

Today, however, I received in the post an advance copy of the first book I’ve written in English.

As I opened the package from my publisher my family — my husband and two kids — huddled around me. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation. Even my one year old sensed something momentous was happening. I pulled the book out, slowly, carefully, as if this dream of mine was made of porcelain and would smash to pieces if not handled with due respect.

There it was, white with the title written in red letters: I am Traitor. We stared at the book in what I assumed was awe — that is until my four year old daughter rolled her eyes:

“Why is this not the My Little Pony sticker book you said you were going to buy me from the internet?”

I tried to explain to her how this book was so much better than a My little Pony sticker book. This was Mummy’s book. She wrote it all by herself. It only took her four years and three packets of Diazepam to get it finished.

There was a hint of a smile, a glint in her eye, a spark of excitement. Was it recognition of her mother’s achievement?

“Mummy?”

“Yes, honey.”

“Can I have ice-cream?”

I couldn’t help but snap. “No, you may not have ice-cream.”

The moment — my moment — was over. My daughter descended into a tantrum. My son spilled his milk all over the sofa. My husband’s phone started ringing, he had to go, a work emergency.

What do you do when you realise that your dream has got buried beneath a pile of dirty dishes? What do you do when you realise this is what offspring think of their parents’ hopes and dreams?

Reach for the Sauvignon Blanc? See a shrink?

You start a blog of course.

Hello, world. As the people related to me don’t seem to have the slightest interest in my writing escapades I hope instead to share my journey with strangers on the internet. (That’s not pathetic at all, is it?)

In just over a month’s time my book, I am Traitor, will be out.

I couldn’t be more excited.

I hope you will join me as I look for inspiration for my next book in places like the laundry basket, as I try to turn up to readings without a single spaghetti hoop in my hair… and try not to embarrass myself in general.

Stay tuned — and please stay in touch!

Sif Sigmarsdóttir is an Icelandic author based in London. Her book, I am Traitor, will be published by Hodder in September 2017. You can pre-order it on Amazon . Sif is represented by Sophie Hicks Agency .

Sign up to Sif’s free and funny newsletter  — or at least free.

When your dream gets buried beneath a pile of dirty dishes was originally published in Sif’s journal on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Hi. My name is Sif Sigmarsdóttir. I’m a writer and a journalist. I live in London with my two children, Inspiration-Drain-One and Inspiration-Drain-Two, my husband who goes by the name He-Who-Takes-Out-The-Trash and a family of moths that are unfortunately not the only reason I can’t buy myself a proper cashmere sweater.

I’ve been writing children’s books in Icelandic for over ten years. I am Traitor is my debut novel in the English language. If you want to support my dream of owning a cashmere sweater — and a house without moths where one can actually hang a cashmere sweater without it being eaten up — you can pre-order my book from Amazon.

About the author was originally published in Sif’s journal on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.