The Odyssey of Publishing my 1st Book

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In my latest article on TheatreArtLife, I share how and why I ended up self-publishing Paralian. What else can you do when your first publisher dies, the second gets arrested, and the big ones you dream about are not interested in a no-name like you. I imagined I’d show up at their doorstep and one of them would surely make me an offer, if only I pitched my book well enough… Of course it’s not that easy. Nothing worthwhile ever is. The truth is, I’ll have to keep on writing good books. Then maybe, if I really work my butt off, one day I’ll find a literary agent who believes in my work. And then, hopefully, this agent will find me a publisher who will say, “Yay! Thumbs up!” and will be interested in long-term cooperation…
Read the full article here.

One Fish At A Time

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So much is happening, so many things to think about and organize, focussing on writing my second book has been hard. It’s tough enough as it is, finding time during regular day job days, but even on my days off I have been distracted lately. Every morning, I get up with the best intentions, but then stuff needs to be done, I think, overthink, and get angry at myself for not being able to do it all, not being stronger. I lie awake at night, dreaming and plotting. When I wake up my thoughts are already racing, months ahead of the present…
I miss my wife who is working on a cruise ship on the other side of the world. When she is with me, I am truly home. It seems writing and creating is something I do best when the words flow from a source of deep happiness and belonging.
I miss you so much my love.
I tell myself to get a grip, take things one fish at a time, be disciplined, concentrate, and keep on writing no matter what. Only to put so much pressure on myself that it again becomes almost impossible to focus on the task at hand. I need to find a balance between letting go and being dedicated to my dream. I need to relax and trust myself. Trust that I will finish this book, even if not within the time frame I have set for myself… because art is not an emergency… and life happens.
Better to write well and take all the time I need, instead of writing obsessively fast, ending up with something I know I could have done better. Still, today, after pouring my heart out to you all, I will take a shot at chapter nine of seventeen…

A Nomad At Heart

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liam at spluega pass

“My longing for change had only grown. The nomad within me was straining at the bit, hungry for new horizons. My new plan was to take a more subtle approach and give myself ample time to let go of the world I knew. The safe bubble I had created for myself in my Swiss home had served the important purpose of grounding me when I had needed stability more than anything. Now I would slowly sneak up on leaving my haven. After all, no matter how comfortable my Swiss bed might be made, no matter how deeply I snuggled into those soft down covers, I was highly aware that eventually, it would be time to get up and explore.” (Excerpt from Paralian, Chapter 20, “Puget Sound”)

This was in 2004. Currently, I am back in Switzerland. It still feels comfortable and safe. But I wonder, maybe I am not made for safe havens… and, someday soon, the time will come to get up yet again and go back out there into the unknown…

Come Visit My Website

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If you haven’t yet, come and have a look at my website.
You’ll find lots of info there about my 1st book Paralian and me. By early spring next year, the website will be expanded to include previews of my 2nd book as well.
Still busy writing!

We’re All Human

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2017 i am what i am

Today, as every year on the 20ieth of November we remember all those who have been killed because of their gender identity. Today is Transgender Day of Remembrance. The sheer numbers of those killed in the most barbaric ways are staggering and break my heart. This year it is 325 individuals that we know of from around the world. One life was taken every 27 hours. Basically, this means one trans person was killed every single day of this year. Simply for who they are. You can find the full list of those we have lost here: https://tdor.info

Just imagine. Lives extinguished, broken. Because people are afraid of what they don’t understand. And, rather than try to understand and open their minds, they choose violence to keep their world the way it is and supposedly always was.

But these murderers and anyone else resisting diversity and inclusion are wrong.
Trans people have always existed.
Being born with a gender identity different from societal norm is not something people choose to be. They are not an anomaly or trend.
They just are.

Individuals of all shapes, colors, identities, and sizes have always been part of humanity. But many societies, governments, and churches have tried to eradicate diversity. Because, the more individual, creative, and colorful people are allowed to be, the harder it will be to control them, to convince them to conform to stereotypes and labels. We are all victims of our societies, of hundreds of years of stereotyping for the “greater good”, for “order”, and “structure”. But peace and order are a sham if they are built upon the dead bodies of thousands of innocent individuals. If we cannot open our hearts, if we cannot include everyone and give people equal rights, then we are as far away from the “greater good” as can be imagined.

The key for me has always been inclusion. Because, at the end of the day, believe it or not, we are all human. I have never cared if someone is white, blue, green, black, purple, cis, gay, lesbian, bi, poly, unicorn, or whatever. These are all just labels.
And labels have nothing to do with humanity. In fact, they distort the picture.
There are no “trans people”, no “fringe groups”, no “normal people”.
If you open your heart and mind, there are only “people”.

So, I live my life accordingly. I try not to judge. I try to accept people in all their many beautiful shapes and sizes. In all their identities and beliefs. And I will not let myself be limited either. According to the current labels I am a trans man. Well, yes I am. But I am also not. First and foremost I am a human being like everybody else. I am far more than just trans. I am the sum of my experiences. I am the man and boy I always was, regardless of having entered this world in a female body. I am an adventurer, a rebel, an introvert, a creative soul. I am impatient, sensitive, compassionate, stubborn, loving, and restless. I love to travel, love to write and create, love to have a beer with my friends, and love to spend a quiet day at home with my wife and our three cats.
No one will tell me who I am because the only one who can truly know is I.
All lives are precious and worth living.
We just need to look beyond our fears.
Beyond the labels.

This is for all those we have lost. You will never be forgotten. RIP.
But this is also a message for all of us still inhabiting this breathtakingly beautiful, pale blue dot. Don’t ever give in to labels and stereotypes. Don’t take no for an answer. Don’t be afraid to be yourself no matter what. Because “Life’s not worth a damn until you can shout out: I am what I am!” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zIryTgUheUs

Ambitious Plans

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Not much new happening at this end. Am writing like mad whenever I get the chance. Little Fellini and I agree, come what may, we’ll try finishing this first draft by end of this year. Crazy ambitious but not impossible.

No Limits

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2017 paralian-no limits

25 years ago, when I had my gender reassignment surgeries, I vowed to never let this important decision of aligning my soul with my body hamper or limit me in any way. I was going to continue going after my dreams. And I wouldn’t take no for an answer. Part of this meant to be able to retain my flexibility and spontaneity. In order to be able to live abroad and travel over longer periods of time, I overcame my fear of needles and learned how to inject myself. Since then, no matter which cultures or corners of the planet I go to, needles and vials are always part of my luggage…

“Sitting on an airplane bound for the Indian Ocean, with all relevant possessions in one bag and no return ticket in my pocket, I felt like an explorer about to make his greatest discovery. When would I take to the skies again? And where would I fly if I did? I had no idea, but anything seemed possible now.
Before leaving Switzerland, I had asked my doctor to write me a special prescription: thirty-six ampoules of testosterone. Not being able to produce enough of the male hormones on its own, my body needed a little help on a regular basis. My checked luggage now contained a two-year supply of testosterone injections, vials, and needles. My doctor had written a letter, attesting to the fact that my bodily functions would be severely disrupted without the medication I carried. Nevertheless, I was nervous. What if my stash was confiscated at Maldives customs? What would I  do?
Maldives immigration was easy. I presented papers from my employer and within five minutes, my passport sported a big, new ‘work visa’ stamp.
Then came the hard part. Already sweating with apprehension, I collected my luggage and headed for customs. There, my heart skipped more than a few beats when my luggage was singled out for inspection. Vials and needles were easy to see on the bag scanner’s screen. Even I could spot them, as I nervously snuck a peek over the customs officer’s shoulder. Surprisingly, he waved me through. Just like that, maintaining my manhood was ensured for the immediate future.”
(Excerpt from Paralian, Chapter 6 “Indian Ocean”)

Back Online

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website

My website is back online!
There is still the odd little thing that needs to be fixed, but we’re up and running again. So come on in 🌞 Browse around a little, leave a comment about the book, or send me an email through the website’s contact page. Click here to enter.

A Friday Night

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One moment I was having a beer with a friend, enjoying a good conversation. The next moment I felt my heart racing. The small shoulder bag, which I had placed carefully between my knees and the bar wall, was gone.
You know that question, “What would you take with you on an island if you had to leave right now and could only take one item?” Well, the one material thing I would currently take with me was in this bag: my Moleskine notebook… in which I had been scribbling the first draft of my new book over the last eight months.
I am only at chapter seven so far, mind you. But, carving out writing time for these seven chapters next to my day job and private turbulences had been incredibly hard. Most days, I would write during my morning commute to work, or on my lunch breaks…

After the initial shock and after making quick phone calls to block bank and credits cards came the moment when I hurried outside into the park right next to the bar. Phone in hand, I tried to open the flashlight app. But I was so upset that, instead, I took about thirty photographs of my feet and the ground before I managed to hit the right button.

I searched for hours. Checked in dark alleys, in garbage bins and bushes, under benches, in public bathrooms, and under containers… but there was nothing…

To be fair, I experienced a lot of kindness that night as well. I came back to the bar five times, making my rounds, re-checking all the convenient spots where a burglar might discard unwanted items. Each time, the bar staff insisted to give me yet another beer free of charge. Some guests inside the bar were genuinely concerned. People kept asking if I had found anything. Some of them even came outside for a while to help searching. My friend and I had planned to go to a concert. I spontaneously gave my ticket to a homeless guy who had sat on a bench in the park across the venue. He was over the moon and ran over to the entrance, waving the ticket over his head like a magic wand as he slipped inside to enjoy the rare treat. My friend went to the concert as well. Meanwhile, the bar security guard lent me his heavy-duty flashlight, and my friend came back after the concert to help me search further into the night.

Now, the weekend has passed. My initial depression as well. There is nothing left to do but to order new cards and IDs, buy a new bag and wallet, and otherwise hope for a miracle. Maybe the thieves DID discard my – for them – useless items in an accessible spot after all. Maybe someone who cares WILL stumble over them and will either ring me or bring my stuff to the lost and found.

I really don’t care about anything but the notebook. While writing, I had felt frequent moments of magic, when I had gotten the words just right to paint a strong mental image for my readers. There is no way I can re-write this first draft exactly as it was.
So keep fingers crossed for that miracle my friends!!!
If it comes down to it and I have to, I’ll try to write it even better. But, if I can actually manage to do THAT is in the stars…