Editing Sequence Breach has officially begun. I’m knee-deep in tangled logic, misplaced commas, and the occasional existential crisis disguised as a paragraph. Every chapter feels like a small electrical storm — unpredictable but strangely satisfying when the pieces finally connect.

Another milestone. The outline for Book 3 of The Istanbul Secrets is finally solid. At the same time, Sequence Breach moves toward final refinement. My notes include diagrams of memory, myth, and one reminder that simply says “buy more coffee.”

Proofing the Turkish edition of İstanbul’un Sırları. Reading my own story through another language feels like hearing my voice with a new accent — familiar yet transformed.

Work began on the Turkish edition, İstanbul’un Sırları Kitap 1. The translation is taking shape under careful hands — faithful to tone, not tethered to every word. Watching it grow feels like meeting the story’s twin.

Returned to Istanbul — at least on paper. Revisiting my notes on the Bosphorus tunnels reminded me why the story began: the thrill of something ancient and half-remembered beneath the city’s modern pulse.

The Istanbul Secrets — Book 1 was finally published. Holding it feels strange — like meeting someone I used to dream about. Early readers noticed details I didn’t know I’d written. Apparently, the subconscious edits too.

Final read-through before publication. The hardest part wasn’t the words — it was letting them go. A Sprinkle of Cinnamon feels alive now, walking on its own.

I became absorbed in the legends surrounding The Book of Barnabas — guarded more fiercely than most secrets. I couldn’t read it, but the myth itself reshaped the plot.

Finished my first full draft. It feels like completing a marathon in slippers — exhausting, ridiculous, and deeply satisfying. The characters changed direction mid-sentence, as if they knew better than I did.

Found an article about the tunnels beneath the Bosphorus, and that was it — focus gone, imagination hijacked. Within days, I had post-its, sketches, and too much coffee. The tunnels became the story’s spine.

Today I began writing The Istanbul Secrets — Book 1. The title arrived the instant I sat down — as if it had been waiting. I could almost smell the bazaars before I wrote a single line: cinnamon, rain on stone, and ferry horns over the Bosphorus.