Whenever I pick up my book “When the Woodlark Sings” with photos of the film of the same name, I remember an interesting writing problem that I call the problem of the interlude in writing. Or: How does the writer improve in their writing?

Ever since we came into the world, we have been putting forward our findings as theses that help us to understand the world and find our place in it. Children are particularly good at studying their parents and their environment and acting accordingly. I still remember as a child…

For me, writing style is like shaggy hair that needs to be combed through and sway in the current like river grass. Everything has to flow and be natural, words and sentences should be brushed through, perspective should be clear and logical…

When I started writing, I never asked myself this question. My writing began – as with many authors – from the inner impulses to write and the need to articulate myself: in other words, from the finest essence of writing. The question only appeared later, and the answer came even later…

When I opened my so-called publication cupboard a few days ago – the large cupboard containing my author’s books – I realized something: after all these years of professional writing, countless sleepless nights, repeatedly disrupted work-life balance and a big suitcase of experience, my closet now told me something clearly: „But still, good that you became a writer! These books don’t just stay in your closet, they stay…