Scott Tidemand

Writer, editor, soundtrack-listener, film ethusiast, jacket-lover and history nut!

[scotidemand-blog]

Ladies and gentlemen, I have officially done the writer cliche: buying a typewriter! At least it's a handsome and WORKING cliche, and I intend to use it... once i've figured out how to instal a ribbon #pointlessnostalgia #typewriter #writerslife #clichéahoy (at Oslo, Norway) https://www.instagram.com/p/BqYM9msg0WZ/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1r2yrhy42omp7

[kadeart]

trainee

[scotidemand-blog]

So, I'm officially a competitor in this November's NaNoWriMo:) The story: Mount Mythos A diesel-punk adventure about climbing an impossibly tall and uncharted mountain in search of the legendary "Celestial Gardens" at the top. Will feature maps full of riddles, sky-pirates, bird-people, secret occult societies and yak's milk... Been sitting on this one for a while, and figured why not try it for this. #nanowrimo #writingmonth #adventurestories (at Allingsås) https://www.instagram.com/p/BoWf2GahM4K/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1ocd6gu4171on

[scotidemand-blog]

An original twist on the old time travel scenario - in which it's a medieval person travelling TO the future instead of the other way around. Splendidly researched (duh, it's Mortimer!) and with a compelling story that is quick-paced and full of interesting tidbits - I almost couldn't put it down. But most important of all is that it presents a view of the human experience that very few time-travel books manage - to the person of the past, how have we changed as people over time? Highly recommend to any history nuts out there, and those who want a rather informative little magical-realism novel. #timetravel #ianmortimer #historicalfiction #magicalrealism #humanexperience #manisawolftoman (at Oslo, Norway) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bnu0gECB1D-/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=mbq38yu0ew2q

[scotidemand-blog]

The two newest chapters of my dark-fantasy epic, Grimmworld!!! Now time for me to do the last few edits within the next 24 hours (god help me!) and then off to the presses with them - hopefully you can all get a chance to read them by the end of the month 🤞🤞🤞 #firstnovel #darkfantasy #editingsucks #cliffhanger (at Oslo, Norway) https://www.instagram.com/p/BnpPv9lhpH0/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1xw96pgb9bshu

[scotidemand-blog]

Empire

There grow black trees our valley.

Thorn-trees, fair and fierce

from swampy, eastern regions come

their roots all spread ‘round.

The weary man sees them

and toils on, too busy to care.

In our valley they prosper.

  Their growth is constant,

blooming if worshipped

or salting if cut.

A trove to some

a scourge to others.

Tyrants, in black bark.

In our valley they stay.

  There were many thorn-trees

crossing hills, sands and over waters.

time goes by them and ‘times

they rot and ‘times they’re cut.

But new trees were always planted.

Slaves or not, we needed them to ward us.

In our valley they hold.

  “They kill the Crows”, we say. Crows

our enemy, the trees fight them

and hold our lands for pay and

drop plump fruits. Yet

where what to do then

when the fruit is bad?

In our valley they rot.

  There grew black trees in our valley,

Thorn-trees, once fair and fierce

But the axes sung, and weeds grew.

All are gone, ruins of an older time,

now we must fight the Crows alone.

In our valley they are gone.

  -Scott Tidemand (2013)

[scotidemand-blog]

To Iris

[scotidemand-blog]

Phantasmagoria

 The Wolf is black;

her voice is winter’s cold; cynical and parted

from wide cheeks. She leads the enchanted Fox away

from home’s hearth, and into black woods.

  The auburn Crow eats from the coffee bushes

she smokes from a branch, demonstrating her steel break

from which spout swears and wisdoms.

She’s young but sticks with her older mate -

no words break her spirit-beak.

  The longhaired Kelpie rises from his mire,

voicing humor, making faces and eating coffee.

The Jay with smiling beak follows the Kelpie,

joining his antics and correcting the Fox on

digital fantasies.

  The black Parrot, a lusty bird, perched beneath

the pretty birds, watches women and smokes cigars,

black hat askew. He spits, chuckles and vanishes,

leaving black feathers behind and lewd thoughts

in peoples’ minds.

  A blue Fawn gives her tail to the Parrot, as he did to her.

She trusts the Fox, who trusts the Wolf,

all beasts annoy her, save for her friends.

in dreams she longs for another warm heart

but despite her tentative blue, she has a fire still.

  The Lion in the sand; thin and yet without mane,

but he loves to war, and hopes to cross the river

as a  thrilling soldier some day.

He’s the Fox’s oldest friend, for he taught him

how to fence and lead.

  They all know the Fox -wolf to lion-

he loves them as his kindred; he wanders with them

through the Kingdom; forever,

though, the Fox fears them suffer

his absence, for then he will know them

as lost.

   --Scott Tidemand (Summer 2013)