as WOAW turns two, i am looking back on my relatively unimportant existence as a writer. so far, i haven't written a novel nor published a collection of poetry. i haven't spoken to agents or publishing houses and never finished a first draft of anything substantial. i have completed a meager four short stories and was never truly happy with their final versions.
the heedful ones among you might anticipate year three of WOAW to be no more productive than year two was. well, i wouldn't know. the outcome of undertakings like a sponsored literary journey to zagreb later this year (more details to follow in time) and the mdr literary prize (what are the odds!) will certainly have an impact on my motivation to put my material out there. further out than online, i mean, if that is at all possible.
soon i'll be featured in a reknown german magazine for contemporary literature. they sent an email asking whether i'd like to submit a poem for their next issue. i was asked to submit. just like with that literary trip that i was offered. now that means success to me. and WOAW deserves credit for much of that.
you, too, deserve credit, 'cause if there wouldn't have been a loyal readership out there from the beginning, i might not have stuck with releasing my stuff to the public. and by the way, i have never understood why you guys like my work. i do see how it differs from the rest of them in style, but i do not see how it's comprehendable or just in any way important. i guess it's evidence of sorts, like proof that i have lived here and partaken. even if just as an absentee.
i like to believe that WOAW eases absence. it eases the absence of poets, translators, readers, the absence of words, and the absence of sleep. maybe to some of you even the absence of me. thank you for missing, please stick around.
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