Charlotte's Web

Blogging my world since 2006


The Big Book Launch Tour

Just back from South Africa, where I took Balthasar’s Gift to four cities and got to celebrate its launch with a lot of special people in wonderful book shops around the country. I was also honoured at each event to have a great co-host join me on stage (or in comfortable arm-chairs and once, a red leather sofa) and ask me questions about crime fiction in general and Balthasar’s Gift in particular. I’ve been alone with this book for many years, so I was more than happy to talk and talk and talk. Many people bought books, so I was happy to also sign and sign and sign.

Much of it has melted into a happy blur, but here’s what I can remember from each launch:


The event was held at Cafe Tatham, a beautiful cafe adjacent to the city art gallery. High ceilings, wonderful purple walls. The book 10452881_10152201793812424_2697434667311636703_oarrived in the nick of time, thanks to bookseller extraordinaire Cheryl Naidoo who talked FedEx in from Durban. Friends and family poured in (including two school friends, and one school teacher of mine) and the cafe was soon full of people talking and drinking wine. I sat on the red sofa with Cheryl Stobie, who is a lecturer in English Literature at the University of KwaZulu-Natal (and my former Grade 6 teacher). She asked me if writing the book had turned me into a better version of myself (yes and no), which of the characters I would like to have dinner with (Aslan and Maggie), which parts of the book were hardest to write (scenes involving children; at this point I cried),  and the role of the journalist in society (observer versus activist).


On to Durbs, where my co-host was William Saunderson-Meyer, journalist, author of the much-syndicated Jaundiced Eye column 10446258_10152213847877424_6315109870788985504_oand crime fiction aficionado. The event was held at Adams Books in the Musgrave Centre, and manager Cedric Sissing gave us a lovely intro. The bookshop was packed – and I was touched again to see faces of school friends and people who I hadn’t seen for years. William and I talked about the role of crime fiction as a political reflection of society, my own political journey and how that was mirrored in the novel, how distance made it easier not harder for me to write the book and my route to publication. He wanted to know what the hell feminist crime fiction was and I attempted to explain. William put it out there that that the brandy-soaked Boer is a bit of a tired stereotype, and my riposte was that German audiences had no beef with Boer but were not crazy about the arts reporter.


Cape Town

Cape Town is special, even if I diss it a little in the novel. Special for me because I studied there and special because it is filled with some of my favourite people in the whole world. My co-host was the TV director and novelist Sam Wilson, who is awesome and also my cousin (no link between his awesomeness and our shared genes – he just is). Sam and I talked about Pietermaritzburg being a character in the novel, about how Maggie is a female James Bond, how I researched the AIDS topic and whether there is a book two10406458_10152530265159680_225241871486428441_n featuring Maggie (there is). We competed with the State of the Nation address, happening at the same time about 300 metres away in Parliament, and despite this, there was a goodly crowd. A couple of cops wandered in with their walkie-talkies on, adding an air of authenticity. The Book Lounge put on a fabulous spread – pity I didn’t get around to trying to their biltong, feta and rocket sandwiches. As with the other two events, we sold nearly all the books.


The last event was in Johannesburg, held at Love Books in Melville. Like the Book Lounge and Adams, this is a wonderful shop, with thoughtfully chosen books and comfy armchairs where you could while away hours. The owner Kate Rogan gave us a lovely intro, and then my fellow Modjaji writer and author of the Trinity Luhabe series, Fiona Snyckers, asked some perceptive questions about Maggie and about the role of the journalist in society. It was a very cold, wintry Joburg evening and I was so touched and thrilled that so many people turned up. I saw colleagues from my Joburg working days, family (my children are quite bewildered by the number people with whom they share a gene pool) and friends new and old.

In between the four events, I also did a couple of press interviews, appeared live on radio twice and did some signings. The whole experience was amazing, and now I need to get working on Book Two so that I can go back and do it all again.



Things Have Gone a Bit Meta

There is nothing quite as exciting as a newspaper article about your forthcoming book launch in your hometown newspaper. It is even more exciting when it’s the newspaper that you trained on as a junior journalist many years ago. And trebly so when the newspaper you write about in your novel is ever-so-loosely based on your hometown paper.

See here:



And … To Print We Go

Balthasar’s Gift in English is about to become a real thing. I have been working on this baby since 2008, had the joy of seeing it go to print in German last year, and now in June 2014, it becomes an English novel, with my name on it, that can be bought in shops.

I feel hysterical. And giddy. And grateful. And quite weepy.

I have so many thank yous. There are people who have encouraged me to write since I held a stub of pencil in my chubby fist. I think of my grandmother Elise Cooper, who bought me my first copy of The Writer’s and Artist’s Yearbook when I was nine, and to whom I dedicate Balthasar’s Gift. My mother, Toni Jubber, who named me in honour of two famous writers, because she believed the baby in her belly would be one too. A couple of teachers, Cheryl Stobie and Colleen Irvine, who gave me stars and asked for more. My school friends, Dani Cohen and Kerry Hancock, who read my words, even the crappy teenage dirge stuff, and told me to carry on. Thank you to all of you.

balthasar cover_lowresThen there were the wilderness years. The only writing that I did was university essays, journals and journalism. Even though I didn’t write creatively, I always gravitated to storytellers and book freaks (among these, one Isa-Lee Jacobson and one Georgia Dunning Morris). I managed to find jobs that involved writing, so that I could still call myself a writer. However, I put in my ten thousand hours, and am grateful to all the teachers who helped me learn to write leaner and cleaner. Thank you to you.

When I took the plunge in 2008, and started writing again for real, the teachers flocked in. A whole flood of amazing people off the Internet presented themselves as guides and mentors. Their feedback was rough, sometimes brutal, and I had to learn to separate the wheat from the chaff, but it toughened me up. This was a necessary lesson, because getting published is freaking hard and there is no room for delicate flowers. I still talk to these people on a forum and though I have not met one single soul in real life, they are all as real to me as if they were standing here next to me. For talking tough and teaching me everything, I thank all of you.

I thank those of you who have supported my blog since 2006 and shared your words of wisdom and encouragement with me. Thanks to Lia Hadley, who jumped out of the Internet and became a real life friend, and a real life midwife to Balthasar’s Gift. Thank you for the hours you dedicated to reading, your ideas and your very firm adherence to timelines and facts. I also need to thank Rebecca Servadio, who told me to get the book the hell out of the first person. (Glad I listened to her.)

In the acknowledgements to Balthasar’s Gift, I thank three people in the publishing industry who saw a spark in Maggie and decided to take a risk on her and me. Thank you to Michaela Roell, Else Laudan and Colleen Higgs – and the amazing teams that stand behind you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

A very special thanks to my dear friend Angela Briggs, whose beautiful painting forms the cover of the novel. Thank you to you.

I have a ton of cheerleaders; friends, colleagues and family whose job it is to say ‘Just keep going! You can do it!’. The leader of this motley crew is my husband, Thomas Otter, ably supported by my children, all of whom provide huge draughts of enthusiasm about what I do. How lucky I am to have each and every one of you. Thank you.

I am also grateful to Maggie and Balthasar and Lindiwe and Mbali and Sanet and Spike and Ed and Zacharius and Aslan and Cora and Nkosazana. You take your own journey now, independent of me. Thank you for filling my head with your conversations and obsessions and craziness for all these years. I release you to inflict these on the world. Goodbye and good luck!



The Politics of Crime

When one of my beta readers was reading an early draft of Balthasar’s Gift, she wrote a series of notes in the margins, asking why I was not dealing with the issue of race in South Africa. “Your novel is set in 2000, shortly after the birth of South Africa’s democracy – I want to know what this means for the characters. What does it mean for a white journalist to report to a black editor? What does it mean that her best friend is Indian? How can a black boy go to a white private school?”

As she progressed through the novel, her marginalia changed. “Okay, I see what you doing. You are not planning to explain it all. You are leaving it to the reader to deduce. Hmmm, I was hoping for more.”

All novels set in South Africa, crime fiction or not, are about race, just as all novels set in the USA are about the American dream, while all novels in set in England are about class. Race is our ur-story. It is there, written into everything we write.

There was no need for me to ploddingly point to race issues in the novel, in order to satisfy a European audience. No need for me to explain.

However there were other issues I wanted to address.

I am a huge fan of crime fiction. But I am also sick to death of one particular crime trope. Next time you are in a bookshop, do this exercise: Approach the crime fiction section and pick up the first book that comes to hand. Does it start with the mutilated body of a beautiful young woman? Check. Try ten books. It’ll only take a couple of minutes. You might only need to read the dust-jacket. I can guarantee you that eight out of ten of those novels will start with someone young, beautiful, dead, and female. Naked and mutilated are optional extras.

In case you don’t believe me, here’s my ten minutes of research:

“When a troubled model falls to her death ….” Robert Galbraith, aka JK Rowling, The Cuckoo’s Calling

“A young girl’s mutilated body is discovered in a sealed room.” James Oswald, Natural Causes.

“It is in this pressure cooker atmosphere that murder takes place (this is an Ann Cleeves novel, after all) and the body of a woman is found with her hair laced with feathers.” Ann Cleeves, Blue Lightning

“Detective Harry Hole is meant to keep out of trouble. A young Norwegian girl taking a gap year in Sydney has been murdered, and Harry has been sent to Australia to assist in any way he can.” Jo Nesbo, The Bat

“A plane falls out of the sky. A woman is murdered. Four people all have something to hide.” Emma Kavanagh, Falling

My goal, in this ever-lasting onslaught of sexy corpses, was to write a crime novel in which the initiating incident was not the death of a woman. Given the level of sexual violence and rape in South Africa and the level of intimate femicide, it would have been an easy route to take. I chose not to. The challenge was to ensure that the novel was fast-paced and gripping, even without a sexy corpse.

Thanks to the onslaught in novels, TV, film and advertising, we are completely inured to dead, victimised and subjugated women. They are the blank slate upon which heroism and agency can be written, as well as upon which money can be made.  According to Kira Cochrane, writing in the Guardian: “This obsession with death isn’t so surprising, when you consider it as the obvious and ultimate end point of a spectrum in which women’s passivity and silence is sexualised, stylised and highly saleable.”

So if I was writing against the highly marketable violence against women, what was I writing towards?

For one thing, I wanted to give women agency. So while the female protagonist in Balthasar’s Gift chases recklessly after the killer, leaving her boyfriend at home to look after the kids, the woman who finally brings the murderer in is someone who is disenfranchised, marginalised and, up to this point in the novel, voiceless.

Another thing I wanted to address is something that unites us all – all cultures, all nations – and that is intolerance of the other. And nothing was more othering in South Africa in the late twentieth century than HIV/AIDS; so much so that our newly elected democratic government refused to acknowledge that HIV led to AIDS and so refused to provide the much-needed anti-retrovirals that would give people with HIV at least a chance at a normal life. Hundreds of thousands of economically active people contracted HIV and then died of AIDS-related illnesses, leaving behind nearly two million AIDS orphans. Many of these children were themselves othered – turned out of their communities, robbed and driven onto the streets.

It seemed necessary to me to construct a story around a nation that had so recently driven racial intolerance out of its statutes, but which was diving headlong, arms wide out in a vast embrace, into a new kind of intolerance – against people with HIV and the activists who tried to help them.

I wanted to write crime fiction that was imbued with social realism. As a reader, I find a standard whodunnit with baddie versus detective and neat wrap-up pretty boring. Stieg Larsson’s trilogy fired the imaginations of millions not only because of its violent set-pieces (against both men and women), but also because he mired them with social detail. As a writer, and particularly as a South African writer, I wanted to tackle social issues, not as a political whipping-stick, but to show how they affect individuals in their daily lives. Because if we care that a ten year-old child heads a household of four other children, including one dying of complications from AIDS, then maybe we will do something about it.

Just as science fiction set in other worlds is a chance to reimagine our own, crime fiction offers us the chance to see our world as it is – with all its gritty, bleak and tragic details – and to repair it.



My Writing Process Is Not Like Skiing (anymore)

One of my first blog posts ever was about skiing. Another post compared my fear of skiing with my fear of writing. I come to you, fresh off the slopes, where I did not ski, but where I let my family members throw themselves up and down mountains while I ensconced myself safely in coffee shops to write. Wordage! I achieved it. I am happy. But not complacent … never that.


Non-writers doing stuff on mountains

On my return, I find that my friend Kate Kelly author of Red Rock (a cli-fi thriller for age 10+) has tagged me for a post on my writing process. I am very happy to oblige, and indeed, very relieved that she asks no questions about skiing.

So, onward!

1. What am I working on?

I am working on my second novel. It is crime fiction, and part two in a series starring Maggie Cloete, crime reporter at The Gazette, Pietermaritzburg’s only daily newspaper.

2. How does my work differ from others?

I think it’s the only crime fiction about a crime reporter working on a newspaper in Pietermaritzburg.

3. Why do I write what I do?

It’s what I know. I used to be a crime reporter on a newspaper in Pietermaritzburg.

4. How does my writing process work?

I write in clumps – big bursts in short periods of time. It is not ideal and I believe that writers need a daily writing practice but that does not work for me since I work full time and I have a houseful of humans who need me. I wrote my first novel, Balthasar’s Gift (published in Germany in  2013 and due out in South Africa this year) over a period of five years. Since I had no idea what the book was going to be about, I had to write my way into the story. Plus I also had to learn how to write a novel, and this took time and many, many  drafts.

This time, now that I know the book and I know that it is crime fiction about crime reporter on a daily in Pietermaritzburg and I have a two-page plot plan, the process is quicker and more efficient.

Having said that, it still requires a similar amount of day-dreaming, of percolating and composting, of going for walks and wrestling with plot angles in my head, or sitting in coffee shops and staring out the window. That will never change. The process is as it will be.

Writers, please tag yourselves!


Conversations with Writers – Talking to Patricia Dusenbury

perfect victimPatricia Dusenbury is my publication day sister. Our debut crime novels launched on the same day – mine in German and in print, hers in ebook form to the world. Pat’s novel, A Perfect Victim, is an elegant crime thriller that tells the story of Claire Marshall, a professional house restorer who is caught in a web of deceit, lies and fear when one of her clients dies. Still coping with the untimely and tragic death of her husband in a house fire, Claire is emotionally bereft and struggles to cope with daily life, let alone becoming prime suspect in a murder case. Set in the suburbs of New Orleans, A Perfect Victim is spare and evocative. It is also the first in a trilogy featuring Claire Marshall.

I asked Pat some questions about her writing process and the route to publication.

1. Pat, thanks for joining me at Charlotte’s Web. Uncial Press just published A Perfect Victim. Is this your first novel or do you have a couple of manuscripts under the bed?

APV is my first novel and I have about one and a half more written.  Together they are a trilogy, following Claire Marshall, my protagonist as she recovers from the shock of her husband’s sudden death and builds a full life for herself.  Each book is also a murder mystery, and the last two include elements of romance.

2. How long did APV take you to write? And are you a planner or a pantser?

I wrote APV  on and off for ages and as a total pantser with no idea what I was doing. About five years ago, I finished it, wrote off to lots of agents, and started writing a sequel.  I went back and forth with an agent for almost a year, meanwhile working on book #2.  The agent eventually lost interest, but by that time I had two books and parts of the third.

By then, I’d learned a bit; for example, you probably should put your first novel in a drawer and leave it there. It’s a learning experience.  But I didn’t want to put two and a half books in a drawer, so I went back and totally rewrote APV. This version was accepted for publication by Uncial Press. APV has changed a lot since that first version. My approach to writing also has changed, and now I’m more of a planner.

3. What is your relationship with writing? It is something you came to late, or have you always loved it?

I enjoy writing, and have always written something. Over the years, work required me to write lots of reports, analyses, even an occasional political speech. After completing an especially dry document, I would joke about owing the world a poem, but when the time came I decided to write a mystery because I’ve always read mysteries. This turned out to be  a lot harder than expected. The difficulty plus the vast room for improvement keeps me engaged.

4. Writers tend to be avid readers. Which are your top five books?

My all time favorite book is The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov. Other favorites change over time. Today the next four would be Bel Canto, To Kill a Mockingbird,  A Prayer for Owen Meany, and In the Lake of the Woods. My favorite genre is mysteries, and I’m a huge fan of Donna Leon, Dennis Lehane, Michael Dibdin, John LeCarre and Kate Atkinson to name my current favorites.

5. I love Kate Atkinson too! You talk about many rewrites with APV. Where do you find the energy, the resource inside yourself to keep going?

I have a head like a rock, perhaps from beating it against brick walls until the walls crack. My husband assures me this can be very annoying. However, it kept me going through the multiple rewrites.

6. What are your top tips to aspiring writers?

I would advise aspiring writers, myself included because I aspire to get better, to listen to what people you respect say about your writing and think about the best way to use their advice.

Find out more about Pat and her books on her blog: As an economist, she was responsible for writing numerous dry reports and is now trying to atone for that by writing novels that amuse and engage the reader.  She has been married to the same man for about a million years and lives with him and two Alaskan Malamutes in Atlanta, Georgia. They met on a blind date. Pat is not on Twitter, as she is busy hoping it is a passing fad.


News in Brief

I went to the Book  Fair this weekend:


There I met a couple of publishers, a couple of friends and scored some book swag:


One of the publishers I met is a fabulous guy called Thomas Woertche, who, along with a team of other crime fiction aficionados has started a new e-book press called Culturbooks. One of the first books they have published is this:


I have recently been rocking a certain look. I give you If Virginia Woolf Worked in Corporate Communications:


And I have learned to wave board:


PS One of these posts is a lie.


Putting Pietermaritzburg on the Crime Fiction Map

So my big moment a couple of weeks ago was a review in Die Welt, one of Germany’s four national newspapers. A friend kindly translated it for me.


Two viruses on the loose in Africa’s sick-house

Elmar Krekeler

Charlotte Otter wields an angry pen as she paints a portrait of South African society. It’s a violent society, infected by the viruses of crime and AIDS, fractured by ethnicities, cultures and social difference.

South African journalist Charlotte Otter lives in Germany and tells the tale of Maggie Cloete, also a journalist, who is trapped in the chaos of South Africa’s violent society.

While desperately asking ourselves why some of the most peaceful European regions – those which enjoy some of the lowest crime rates worldwide – produce most of the bloodiest crime novels, we stumbled upon a theory, which we decided to adopt and spread here.

This theory claims that it is especially those who are spoiled by external peace – authors and reader alike – that are in need of fictional murder. They need it, if you wish, as anathema, as a protective spell, so that crime does enter their boring, peaceful reality.

This is a charming theory, which we can discard without any regret. The fictional murder business is booming, qualitatively and quantitatively, and it’s booming in one of the world’s most torn and violent societies: South Africa.

Better than any documentary: South African crime fiction

Generally, this fiction is extremely hard to digest; without ornament, full of clashing sentences and concepts, as bloody as the country itself. These are stories that echo deeply in the place they are set, in the post-apartheid land of an only superficially appeased community.

As a result, we find novels that tell you more about South Africa than all the reporting on the 2010 World Cup combined.

They tell you about degeneration, the clash between social strata, and do so till the former townships stand in flames again. These are stories about conflicts between races, between the healthy ones and those who are eaten alive by disease; conflicts between golf players and trash collectors.

Charlotte Otter is in good company

Deon Meyer writes these stories, and Roger Smith. So does Charlotte Otter.

One has to explain Charlotte Otter first. She worked as a crime reporter and learned her writing in South Africa. Then, she moved to this completely different place, Germany, and took her husband and child with her.

Otter – we imagine her in her mid-forties – lives in Heidelberg. Rumor has it, that she is also somehow involved in IT.

Balthasar’s Gift is her debut novel. And it fulfills all necessary requirements for a socially relevant crime novel – and this according to textbook. Pietermaritzburg has found its place on the map of crime.

Pietermaritzburg lies in the KwaZulu-Natal province. It is populated by 200 000 souls, surrounded by lovely nature and beautiful parks, and finally, characterized by the extreme gap between the ridiculously rich and the bitterly poor, between the healthy and the soon-to-be dead AIDS patients. There are more ethnicities here than the German Bundesliga has clubs.

One morning, a body lies on the steps of the HIV House, the mission that helps those infected with the virus. Balthasar Meiring, son of a brutally conservative Boer farm father, has been shot.

The good spirit of Pietermaritzburg

Balthasar was the good spirit of Pietermaritzburg; saviour of orphans, widower to an AIDS victim, gay, blond, tall, with the stature of a praying mantis turned human. It could have been a typical South African cause of death: robbery gone bad.

But it wasn‘t. At least, this is what Maggie Cloete thinks, and she’s bound to know. In her capacity as crime reporter for the Gazette, she has been hunting criminals for more than ten years, perpetually chasing after them on her Yamaha named ‘The Chicken’.

Just a couple of days before he died, Balthasar called Maggie, and asked her to investigate the case of Sven Schloegel, a German quack who was selling an inefficient herbal treatment to unsuspecting families. The treatment was so expensive, that they were not only unable to afford the (actually helpful) retroviral medicine; they were also forced to incur debts with an infamous local crime lord.

The overture to what will hopefully be a long series

Balthasar’s Gift is the angry, quick and brick-smashing overture to what we hope will be a long series. As is it with overtures, we already encounter all the things that Maggie Cloete will deal with in the future.

This is what she’ll have to face: The two viruses that are destroying Africa, AIDS and crime. The novel shows/Maggie witnesses how AIDS changes society, how it scares and shames its people, destroys families and children; how it takes hold of children and kills them cruelly. How medical education is subject to archaic rituals and sick ideas, like the notion that sex with very young virgins cures the disease. This is why Balthasar’s Gift also tells of the rape of a two-year old girl.

Medicine is helpless, because the government is incredibly inactive, ignorant and incompetent in its dealings with the epidemic, an epidemic that kills thousands on a daily basis, a disease that hollows South Africa from the inside, that pulls it into a moral abyss; that simply tears it apart.

A cohesive picture of South African society

And Charlotte Otter does more: She paints a cohesive picture of South Africa’s recent history, and does so with ease. She illuminates the state of mind of the last survivors of Boer society.

While she entangles societal analysis and characters effortlessly, there are some very see-through and redundant literary maneuvers. It is not just due to our general distrust of art editors that we could have passed on the very blond art editor of the Gazette.

Some turns are very obvious in their task to cloud the straight line of investigation. At some points, the plot jumps awkwardly around corners, just like a young springbok leaping over the scrub.

Be that as it may. The abysses of Pietermaritzburg/KwaZulu-Natal are much more exciting than those of Stockholm, that’s for sure. Fearless, upright, engaging spectator Maggie Cloete grows on you, whether you like it or not, and she has to continue.


Tales from a Reading

Last week Monday, six weeks after Balthasars Vermaechtnis was published, I gave my debut book reading in Hamburg as part of Ariadne Verlag’s series ‘Der Krimi ist politisch‘. Hosted by the Buchladen Osterstrasse – a really lovely bookshop in Eimsbuettel, which I would visit on a regular basis if I lived in Hamburg – the series hopes to examine why political crime fiction is having such a heyday.

Thanks to coaching from my publisher Else Laudan and some practise earlier in the day, I was not too nervous. And thanks to some great publicity from the Hamburg Abendblatt, the bookshop was nice and full. There was some lovely South African wine on offer, which might have pulled people in (the bookshop has a reputation for clever pairings of wine and books), but as a rookie, I was just thrilled to see so many people there. My lovely blog and now in real life friend, Lilalia, came all the way from Luebeck with her son to support me. It was great to have two faces I knew in the audience. (Lilalia played a very special role in the writing of the book, but that’s a post for another day.)


Else Laudan and yours truly

Else and I had a game plan and we stuck to it. She spoke about the series, I read a chapter from the English manuscript, she read the following chapter in German and then we opened the floor to questions. There was much discussion – about the nature of crime fiction in general; about South African crime fiction and where it is going; why there is so much crime fiction coming out of the Scandinavian countries, which are essentially very stable and non-bloody in comparison to South Africa, which is less stable and more bloody; and some of the themes in Balthasars Vermaechtnis. I managed to not cover myself in shame while answering questions in German, though some may have winced. Later, I was told that my German is charming, which I think is a kind way of saying it is somewhat quirky and all over the place.


Else and I nochmal (see what I did there?)

And credit to Doris Claus, Torsten Meinicke and Gerlinde Schneider at the bookshop for organising it so well. They run frequent readings and that is clear in their slick yet relaxed style. Thanks too to Gerlinde for the photos in this post!

Afterwards, I got to sign books and talk to people. Then some of us went on for a drink, and it was truly splendid to chat to some really well-versed crime fiction aficionados about our shared interest. In the group was the exceedingly famous and prolific crime writer Robert Brack, who will be reading from his novels and talking about crime fiction with Ariadne author Clementine Skorpil on 23 September. Be there, Hamburgers!

It was an honour to take part in the Ariadne series and to be able to read from my book. If all future readings go as smoothly and well, and I get to meet such cool people, then I will continue be one very happy writer.