Today: I Still Don’t Know How It Ends

I am writing these lines on August 25, 2026.

The Second Edition of P.X: No Man’s Space was published on August 1, 2026.

It is available as an ebook, paperback, and hardcover.

Review copies have been prepared. Book sites, independent reviewers, and different publications have been approached. The first encouraging replies have arrived. The first interview possibilities have appeared. Other writing opportunities I never expected have opened up as well.

There is a real book sitting on my desk.

But I still do not know how this story ends.

Perhaps that is exactly why I wanted to write this account now.

If P.X one day reaches a very large readership, it would be much easier to tell the entire journey in retrospect.

Then everything that happened could be arranged as a series of steps on the road to success.

A rejection would become “the lesson that prepared me for what came next.”

An unanswered email would become “the moment that taught me not to give up.”

A coincidence could be retold as “a sign of fate.”

But today, I do not know any of those things.

Maybe hundreds of people will read it.

Maybe thousands.

Maybe far more.

Or perhaps P.X will remain a book to which I gave a large part of my life, discovered by a relatively small circle of readers.

I do not know whether it will one day be published in Turkish in Türkiye.

I do not know whether a publisher will become interested in this story.

I do not know whether I will one day walk into a bookstore in Türkiye and see my own book on the shelf.

I do not even know what a reader who has never met me, and who is opening the book for review right now, will think when they close the final page.

And perhaps that uncertainty is the most exciting part of all.

The outcome has not been written yet.

I have only tried to complete the part that was under my control.

There was an idea.

I began to write it.

It became a story.

The story became a universe.

That universe became a novel I wrote in English.

I wrote the novel again and again.

I developed my own writing and editing methods.

I designed the cover.

I created the interior pages.

I made the artwork.

I prepared the ebook, paperback, and hardcover editions.

I published it.

I took it to Vienna.

I held it in Ballhausplatz, where the story begins.

Then I knocked on as many doors as I could so that the book might find a place for itself in the world.

What happens next is no longer entirely in my hands.

Two years ago, while listening to StarTalk on train journeys, I had no idea that the few questions moving around in my mind would bring me here.

Back then, P.X was not a file.

It was not a cover.

It was not a book.

It was not even, in any complete sense, a universe.

It was simply a story I wanted to tell.

Today, it sits in front of me inside a hardcover book.

My name is on the cover.

There is a world hundreds of pages long inside it.

And now it is waiting for other people to open it and see where it goes.

I do not know how the next chapter of this journey will be written.

For now, I do not want to know.

Because something that existed only in my head two years ago has been brought into the real world in the best form I knew how to make.

Where P.X goes from here will now be decided, at least partly, by its readers.

The only thing I know is this:

I wrote the story.

I made the book.

And I let it go into the world.