That last weekend I was busy writing. From morning to evening. And starting over after dinner right till Mr Sandman came by. I even had to decline a wonderful invitation to a a dear friend’s birthday party – no easy decision, believe me. But a deadline is a deadline, even if this particular deadline is a bit blurry, as I am still waiting for the contract. I certainly hope it will come soon, though. But just as musicians do not always know when and if there will be a next gig, and artists mostly cannot predict who will buy their the next picture – or when, writers, too, live in a sort of mire of uncertainty.

This would, of course, be different for the very famous writers, musicians or fine artists. Once you have acquired a certain threshold of fame, you can hardly “create” your art fast enough to cover the demand. If, however, you are what a dear writer-colleague from Canada once called a “middling author”, then you just have to remember your knightly virtues and be patient.

The good news: Soon there again a short story out by me – in an e-book with many other wonderful authors: “Exotic worlds”.