Many years ago I had already begun writing two novels, but I didn't have the time, the endurance or the patience to finish them. The rough idea for my book “Verschobene Grenzen” (“Grenzen” meaning borders as well as boundaries in German) arose while living in New York. After the first 40-50 pages, this manuscript disappeared in the desk drawer, not to be seen for quite some time.

  A couple of years later while living in the US again, I took the manuscript pages in my hands and I realized that this time I wanted to finish the story. There was a fire inside me and with the support of my family and my friends (the artist way group) I knew I could do it.

During the writing process I experienced many highlights, such as when my sentences just flew spontaneously, or when I got my most creative ideas while taking a shower. Somtimes I couldn't fall asleep at night because I was drawn to my computer and needed to continue writing. Of course there were also “the other moments”. I would be sitting at my desk, but I couldn't see anything other than the dirty carpet under my feet that needed to be cleaned or I would just stare at the walls, not even thinking about the novel, but about how I would paint them in different colors. Yet it was the moment when I wrote down the last sentence of the story that stands out. It was one of the happiest, but at the same time saddest in the whole writing process. On one hand there was the feeling of “end”, “done”, “release”, etc. On the other hand I knew at that very moment that the intimate relationship with my characters was now coming to an end. I didn't only create “my people”, I loved them at the same time, and they had belonged only to me. Only I could move and bend them the way I wanted to.

Today I am very happy that they are allowed to go out into the world, and I hope that their story will touch the readers. Deep in my heart of course, I hope that they will be loved as well.

(Text translated from the German)