Bernard Jan's Blog - Posts Tagged "cat"
The Force Behind the Written Word
In my previous post I have introduced you to photographer Zach Singh and Mario Kožar from MKM Media, the two people responsible for the beautiful cover of my soon-to-come-out novella A World Without Color.
I also promised to mention other people involved in its making because we all know, whether we are writers or not, that beside the face we enjoy looking at, each story must have something that runs and live beneath its skin: its blood, flesh, bones, its heart that pumps it alive.
Before the English version, there was a story in Croatian which came to life in 2008. These are the people whom I owe gratitude for their support and for making it happen: Ozren Ćuk, Tihana Hren, Jelena Boromisa, Anita Euschen, Aleksandra Hampamer, Goran Pavletić, the Croatian Ministry of Culture, Sonja Kunović, Saša Dujanović, my parents Ksenija and Dubravko, and all those who by their existence wrote these pages.
The crew working with me on the English edition is even more diverse. Those amazing and selfless individuals and professionals come from several countries and continents: Australia, the United States, the United Kingdom, Ireland, Italy, Puerto Rico and Croatia!
Aldina Šćulac, Mirjana Ptiček and Irena Krčelić were my great home support and encouragement in my international endeavors. M.G. Wells, Victoria M. Patton, and Rebecca Gransden, along with the people I am yet to mention below, were my huge international encouragement, moral support and balance of sanity when my mind was projecting distorted images of reality.
My good friend and founder of Tom's Music Place, Thomas Carley Jr. from Oregon, was the first one to proofread my English manuscript, Philip Newey from Australia carried the biggest burden of editing it on his shoulders, while Kath Middleton from England double-checked my later and additional changes and corrections.
I cannot and must not forget to mention Kristina Pepelko from Michigan who helped me with my first query letters and website announcements.
My writing buddy Jonathan Hill from Manchester, England, a town whose soccer team I supported while David Beckham played in it, brushed my blurb to its final glaze and gave me many useful tips of an experienced indie writer.
Anita Euschen (you are here again, bro!) originally from Berlin but already long-time resident of Croatia, Bruna Rocha originally from Brazil but now enjoying the Croatian sun as well as my fellow writer originally from Italy but now living in Ireland Dario Cannizzaro were stuck with me in my formatting nightmare and were looking for and providing answers to my never ending questions!
And finally comes my Angel, his full name being Angel Ramon Medina, founder of the Hybrid Nation and my Puerto Rican friend and manic writer, who patiently guided me through all my slow and painful baby-steps in this three months long self-publishing journey.
Those are my people, this is the force behind the written words of my novella A World Without Color you will read soon. Please follow them!
Bernard Jan
www.bernardjan.com
Join my mailing list, subscribe to blog Muse!
Bernard Jan
I also promised to mention other people involved in its making because we all know, whether we are writers or not, that beside the face we enjoy looking at, each story must have something that runs and live beneath its skin: its blood, flesh, bones, its heart that pumps it alive.
Before the English version, there was a story in Croatian which came to life in 2008. These are the people whom I owe gratitude for their support and for making it happen: Ozren Ćuk, Tihana Hren, Jelena Boromisa, Anita Euschen, Aleksandra Hampamer, Goran Pavletić, the Croatian Ministry of Culture, Sonja Kunović, Saša Dujanović, my parents Ksenija and Dubravko, and all those who by their existence wrote these pages.
The crew working with me on the English edition is even more diverse. Those amazing and selfless individuals and professionals come from several countries and continents: Australia, the United States, the United Kingdom, Ireland, Italy, Puerto Rico and Croatia!
Aldina Šćulac, Mirjana Ptiček and Irena Krčelić were my great home support and encouragement in my international endeavors. M.G. Wells, Victoria M. Patton, and Rebecca Gransden, along with the people I am yet to mention below, were my huge international encouragement, moral support and balance of sanity when my mind was projecting distorted images of reality.
My good friend and founder of Tom's Music Place, Thomas Carley Jr. from Oregon, was the first one to proofread my English manuscript, Philip Newey from Australia carried the biggest burden of editing it on his shoulders, while Kath Middleton from England double-checked my later and additional changes and corrections.
I cannot and must not forget to mention Kristina Pepelko from Michigan who helped me with my first query letters and website announcements.
My writing buddy Jonathan Hill from Manchester, England, a town whose soccer team I supported while David Beckham played in it, brushed my blurb to its final glaze and gave me many useful tips of an experienced indie writer.
Anita Euschen (you are here again, bro!) originally from Berlin but already long-time resident of Croatia, Bruna Rocha originally from Brazil but now enjoying the Croatian sun as well as my fellow writer originally from Italy but now living in Ireland Dario Cannizzaro were stuck with me in my formatting nightmare and were looking for and providing answers to my never ending questions!
And finally comes my Angel, his full name being Angel Ramon Medina, founder of the Hybrid Nation and my Puerto Rican friend and manic writer, who patiently guided me through all my slow and painful baby-steps in this three months long self-publishing journey.
Those are my people, this is the force behind the written words of my novella A World Without Color you will read soon. Please follow them!
Bernard Jan
www.bernardjan.com
Join my mailing list, subscribe to blog Muse!
Bernard Jan
14 Years Since You’ve Been Gone
I still remember you. And the day we parted. I will never forget the moment my heart turned into ashes.
And the pain. And agony. And sorrow for the days we won’t share, ever again.
It’s painful to even think about it. But it’s a comfort knowing we had each other. And love we shared that I still feel for you.
You spread love and good vibrations wherever you appear as you have all these fourteen years and nine months. I don’t know about you, but if someone gives us as much time as a gift, it won’t be enough for me. On second thoughts, you are the best thing that ever happened to me. Thanks to you I could survive the dementia, illness and death of my grandmother, who vegetated for years before she found her deserved peace. Thanks to you I managed to cope every day with atrocious images of animals raised and slaughtered for human consumption, massacred in laboratory experiments, skinned for their fur... or those unwanted and discarded before they were run over on the roads. You were one of them too—discarded. Unwanted. One of those sentenced to death immediately after birth. Luck has smiled on you in the end. If I’m to be honest, luck favored us. Many times I thought: if it wasn’t for you, this family might have already gone to hell. But you keep us together. As the gravity of the home planet holds its satellites, not allowing them to wander into the universe of the unknown.
I hope many of my readers and fans will read your story. Because you deserve it. Because your life was not in vain, you were the best gift I could have hoped for from this life.
Thank you for everything.
In Memoriam
Marcel
April 19, 2006–April 19, 2020
A World Without Color, the true story of the last three days we spent together, is still on Amazon as an eBook and paperback. Waiting for the world to know about you.
BJ
www.bernardjan.com
Follow me on Twitter.
Bernard Jan
And the pain. And agony. And sorrow for the days we won’t share, ever again.
It’s painful to even think about it. But it’s a comfort knowing we had each other. And love we shared that I still feel for you.
You spread love and good vibrations wherever you appear as you have all these fourteen years and nine months. I don’t know about you, but if someone gives us as much time as a gift, it won’t be enough for me. On second thoughts, you are the best thing that ever happened to me. Thanks to you I could survive the dementia, illness and death of my grandmother, who vegetated for years before she found her deserved peace. Thanks to you I managed to cope every day with atrocious images of animals raised and slaughtered for human consumption, massacred in laboratory experiments, skinned for their fur... or those unwanted and discarded before they were run over on the roads. You were one of them too—discarded. Unwanted. One of those sentenced to death immediately after birth. Luck has smiled on you in the end. If I’m to be honest, luck favored us. Many times I thought: if it wasn’t for you, this family might have already gone to hell. But you keep us together. As the gravity of the home planet holds its satellites, not allowing them to wander into the universe of the unknown.
I hope many of my readers and fans will read your story. Because you deserve it. Because your life was not in vain, you were the best gift I could have hoped for from this life.
Thank you for everything.
In Memoriam
Marcel
April 19, 2006–April 19, 2020
A World Without Color, the true story of the last three days we spent together, is still on Amazon as an eBook and paperback. Waiting for the world to know about you.
BJ
www.bernardjan.com
Follow me on Twitter.
Bernard Jan
Marcel: 17 Years Without You
It’s been all said already, many times, through the rivers of tears and one story that keeps living even 17 years after your departure.
I wish I could have gone with you that day, but I am still here, remembering and trying to keep the memory of you alive—your monument—while I still breathe the air we used to breathe together.
I love you and I miss you. I always will. You were my best friend ever.
***
I stand on the balcony, and three floors below me, with noise and shudders of the building, the traffic glides down the street. Carried by light drifts, the clouds float on the sky, promising rain. I watch Saša and you leaving, pushing your way through the illegally parked cars and bulky waste carried out by tenants because they no longer need it.
It is April 19.
I follow you as you are getting more distant and smaller, shaking from crying, with the body tired of life. Saša has to step on the street to bypass the waste and the cars parked on the sidewalk, and then I lose sight of you. Of the blue bag with yellow handles in which your still warm and curled up body slept. When after a few steps he returns to the sidewalk, I lose him, too.
I gather strength and make the final decision. I strain my thoughts and force my body to move.
I’m on the balcony. I move along its length, not stopping until the end, until I come to the railing. On the table I have left a will with clear instructions, so that animals are not deprived of their rights in case something goes wrong and my plan fails. On top of it I put your favorite photo and the syringes I won’t need anymore.
Now I am free.
Now I live at last.
And I look the enemy in the eyes.
I challenge death to the last duel. Defying it with the strength, I wish to believe, of not-wasted life. My actions will speak for or against me. And one monument I built. Now completed, it will beautify life for someone. Some will grieve and cry, others may be enraged. Many won’t understand. That’s the way with people. Always.
***
In Memoriam
Marcel
April 19, 2006–April 19, 2023
Please continue reading our true story, A World Without Color, as an eBook or a paperback.
Thank you.
BJ
bernardjan.com
Subscribe to my mailing list.
Follow me on Twitter.
I wish I could have gone with you that day, but I am still here, remembering and trying to keep the memory of you alive—your monument—while I still breathe the air we used to breathe together.
I love you and I miss you. I always will. You were my best friend ever.
***
I stand on the balcony, and three floors below me, with noise and shudders of the building, the traffic glides down the street. Carried by light drifts, the clouds float on the sky, promising rain. I watch Saša and you leaving, pushing your way through the illegally parked cars and bulky waste carried out by tenants because they no longer need it.
It is April 19.
I follow you as you are getting more distant and smaller, shaking from crying, with the body tired of life. Saša has to step on the street to bypass the waste and the cars parked on the sidewalk, and then I lose sight of you. Of the blue bag with yellow handles in which your still warm and curled up body slept. When after a few steps he returns to the sidewalk, I lose him, too.
I gather strength and make the final decision. I strain my thoughts and force my body to move.
I’m on the balcony. I move along its length, not stopping until the end, until I come to the railing. On the table I have left a will with clear instructions, so that animals are not deprived of their rights in case something goes wrong and my plan fails. On top of it I put your favorite photo and the syringes I won’t need anymore.
Now I am free.
Now I live at last.
And I look the enemy in the eyes.
I challenge death to the last duel. Defying it with the strength, I wish to believe, of not-wasted life. My actions will speak for or against me. And one monument I built. Now completed, it will beautify life for someone. Some will grieve and cry, others may be enraged. Many won’t understand. That’s the way with people. Always.
***
In Memoriam
Marcel
April 19, 2006–April 19, 2023
Please continue reading our true story, A World Without Color, as an eBook or a paperback.
Thank you.
BJ
bernardjan.com
Subscribe to my mailing list.
Follow me on Twitter.
Marcel: Another Year Without You
Another challenging year, another months, days, hours, and minutes and you were not here with me, and you never will be. And I needed you. Because these past twelve months were hard. Sometimes very hard. And I couldn’t hold you in my arms to find comfort in you.
It is selfish thinking, but everything about you is painted selfish. You were my world, nothing less than that.
***
Yesterday we had a serious talk with Saša about the possibility of putting you down. We have not talked to you about that, but somehow I feel you foresee it, that you have exposed us and that nothing remains hidden from you. You read all around you like X-rays, and stoically, calmly, and gracefully handle what is coming. I wish I could be brave like you and look death in the face with equal force and dignity. The hopelessness of your nonexistence, which covers me like a magician’s cloak, prevents me from that. Stealing me, stealing you. I do not agree to such a deal! As long as there is a fire in you for one more battle, as long as you do not say it’s over.
***
In Memoriam
Marcel
April 19, 2006–April 19, 2024
Please continue reading our true story, A World Without Color, as an eBook or a paperback.
Thank you.
BJ
bernardjan.com
Subscribe to my mailing list.
A World Without Color: A True Story of the Last Three Days with my Cat
It is selfish thinking, but everything about you is painted selfish. You were my world, nothing less than that.
***
Yesterday we had a serious talk with Saša about the possibility of putting you down. We have not talked to you about that, but somehow I feel you foresee it, that you have exposed us and that nothing remains hidden from you. You read all around you like X-rays, and stoically, calmly, and gracefully handle what is coming. I wish I could be brave like you and look death in the face with equal force and dignity. The hopelessness of your nonexistence, which covers me like a magician’s cloak, prevents me from that. Stealing me, stealing you. I do not agree to such a deal! As long as there is a fire in you for one more battle, as long as you do not say it’s over.
***
In Memoriam
Marcel
April 19, 2006–April 19, 2024
Please continue reading our true story, A World Without Color, as an eBook or a paperback.
Thank you.
BJ
bernardjan.com
Subscribe to my mailing list.
A World Without Color: A True Story of the Last Three Days with my Cat
