May 2026
When the opossum writes, it scratches its brain out. In desperation, it gnaws on the pen. Always ready to put something down on paper. Today we take a look at the writing process of Jonas von der Beutelratte. And learn from a true "pro."
Jonas put down the pen. The manuscript was finished. Now he sat there in front of the stack of paper. Relieved to have managed it. He had finally completed this wretched manuscript. For three months he had sat tirelessly at his desk and written like a madman. Now the real work began. He had to correct the manuscript and then type it up on the typewriter. Tedious. But what wouldn't one do for a hungry readership. He scraped out his last drop of brain matter and hammered away at the machine. Words upon words. On white paper. He typed and typed until he could no more. The pen ate its way into the desk.
A pro, yes. Pros don't doubt. Pros don't cross anything out. Pros don't hurl crumpled pages across the room. Jonas was therefore no pro. Or was he? For he did all of this with a devotion that only someone summons who writes truly, earnestly, hopelessly.
Three months had passed. He still remembered the first sentence. He had rewritten it seventeen times. On the eighteenth attempt he had simply left it as it was the first time and moved on. Perhaps that was the secret: don't stop before you can begin.
Somewhere, deep in the desk, the pen had become wedged. Jonas left it there. He would buy a new one. For the next manuscript. One he would naturally not trust himself to write. And that he would naturally write anyway. That was just how it was with the opossum inside him. He was a symbol of success. Or well on his way there.