My childhood heroes were Hans Hass and Jacques Cousteau. They swam through my dreams. The dream to be like them came to an end in an auditorium where students queued for the only microscope. The vision of my future career evaporated in the jostling crowd.
I was a teacher until I stopped and started writing. I learned the hard way as a local editor and then for a magazine which focuses on people with nice houses. I missed feeling at home in words. I moved on, became a lecturer at a school for Journalists and learned, that writing demands holding fast against words which chatter in your head while you try to couch something in the right terms. Text only convinces if words hit home. To miss the mark causes uneasiness. This is not so important in editing, I found out along the way. My boss said: „I want to see the real stuff“ and wanted me to get a move on. Nothing forms easier than a habit – but habits have little substance.