Thursday, September 24, 2015

New Release - Ruined Soul

I've known Thorsten for years, and when he told me that he was finally going to finish the story he'd been working on for years,  I begged to be one of the first people to read it. (I'm shameless that way.)  Ruined Soul is great read, (even if it isn't a romance *grin*) If you enjoy fantasy, Vikings, magic and mayhem all wrapped up with a healthy dollop of humor, then I highly recommend this book. 



I was staying as a foreign exchange student in Toronto at the time I started writing Ruined Soul, and in a way continuing on it has been a means of placing myself back in a city that I fell in love with from the very first time I walked its street. From the fact that everything was so much larger than little Denmark, to the strange sensation of arriving to the city as a foreigner, only to discover that almost half of the town’s population originates outside of Canada. I had no clue. Here I was, expecting to dazzle everyone with my blue eyes, foreign charms and a barely noticeable hint of Danish accent, only to discover that I blended right into this massive cultural melting pot and had a better grasp of the tongue than many others, my Chinese landlord included. Heck, I had literally been in the city for less than a day, before someone else approached me to ask for directions.

During my time in Toronto I wrote a rough (very rough) skeleton of a story, and then forgot all about it. It had little in the way of plot – it was basically just a couple of loosely strung-together scenes involving this somewhat sarcastic guy called Eric and his rough induction into the ranks of the Einherjar. The culmination of my own Danish roots and my interest in Norse mythology combined with the wonders of this new world I was living in. Then my exchange-program was up, and I had to return to Denmark to finish my education. Back to the well known and away from the wonders. I placed the draft at the back of my closet (well, in a folder buried in the depths of my pc, but technically the same) and completely put it out of my mind.

Over the following years (yes, it's been years), I would occasionally take it out and look it over. Some of it was good, some not so much. I even started expanding on the story by adding new characters and thinking up ideas for sequels and threequels, but in the end the entire notion of actually trying to force a plot and overall structure into this first rough draft in order to make it coherent and even remotely resembling a finished story, was so daunting, that in the end I just placed it back in its digital closet and closed the door on it again.

But Eric (or perhaps it was Odd) wouldn’t let matters rest, and like the scene in Jumanji where the drums keep on hammering until the board game is finally uncovered, my draft kept beating away at the wall I had erected, until, finally, I took it up again in the spring of 2015. What followed was much frustration and gnashing of teeth, and many cases of me staring myself blind in a forest of my own creating. But with the help of both friends and family I am finally able to tell the story of Eric and Odd (as well as a few other characters I have come to love in the process).

I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it (perhaps without putting it in the closet for years, before finally taking the time to finish it, yeah?)

- Thorsten Weitling


Eric Winter wakes up from a night of drinking with no memory, a hell of a hangover, and an unwanted guest he can’t evict. Thanks to the whim of a pantheon of gods Eric thought were myths, he’s now sharing his body with a Odd - the surly spirit of an ancient Norse warrior. Odd’s destined to fight forever in preparation for the end of times, and Eric is his new, if involuntary, host.

Until now, Eric’s biggest challenges have been deciding what to wear to work and when to finally clean his apartment. The arrival of Odd draws him into a new and unknown world where magic exists and the gods still hold sway. Eric needs to find out who killed Odd’s previous host before they come back and try to finish what they started.


“Right,” I said, as I stared at the apparition in the mirror. “That’s it. I’ve gone mad. First chance I get, I’m getting myself an appointment with a shrink.”

I started to turn away, but only managed to twist my upper body halfway around. My legs refused to move. I sent the mirror an angry glare. “What?”

“You are my new host, Eric. The vessel I am to use to continue my efforts against the enemy. It is a great honor.”

“The he-ck it is!” I shook my head vigorously from side to side as if the added motion would help prove just how wrong he was. “Why? I mean, why do you even need a host in the first place? Can't you just go out and do your... battle-duel-thingy with the evil spirits and be done with it without dragging me and my sanity into it?”

Odd gave a small smile and a light shake of his own head.

“I am afraid it’s not that easy, Eric. We need flesh to manifest into this world. In my case, that means I need your flesh.”

His word made me shiver. I crossed my arms over my chest and stuck out my chin. “Well, you can't have it.” Ladies and gentleman, Eric Winter, five years old.

I guess it didn't impress the ghostly figure in the mirror much, either. He glanced down at my arms – an odd image to see in reverse in the mirror – and I felt my hands unclench and move away in spite of my own wishes.

“There is not much you can do, Eric. I am afraid you really do not have much say. You were the closest body of Norse blood and thus I was sent into you at the passing.”

I was too busy trying to will my own appendages to obey my commands to pay much attention to his words. Frankly I've never liked being out of control. Even when I am embarrassingly inebriated and have something to blame it on, I dislike losing myself. So seeing my fingers do something, not of my own volition frightened me more than I cared to show. I gritted my teeth and sent Odd a dirty look.

“Stop it!”

“As long as you realize you have little say in the matter, Eric. Whether you will it or not, you are now one of Odin's men. Get dressed. We have things to do.”


Thorsten Weitling was born in Haderslev in the southern part of Denmark. An encouraging father paired with an overly active imagination launched him into the world of books and writing – first as a journalist and then later as an author. Apart from holding the title of Lord of some offshore-drilling-platform-become-country (courtesy of close “friends”), he is also singlehandedly keeping the coffee industry afloat with his massive consumption of magical brown bean juice. Thorsten is also heavily invested in amateur acting, spending large amounts of time each summer pretending to be a Viking for the benefit of tourists and guests in South Jutland.

He currently lives and writes in a small apartment in Aarhus, Denmark.

You can track Thorsten down online on Twitter: @Weitling_Writes or Facebook