Yanko Tsvetkov's Blog

In a gluttonous fit, a pregnant woman strips an olive tree off of its fruit. The tree retaliates.

One of my shortest stories, The Olive Child was first published in November 2021, exclusively for my Patreon subscribers. In August 2022...

If short stories were songs, writers wound’t have to wait until they completed a whole album in order to publish them. But they’re not. Or are they?

The physical book format has stuck around for such a long time, it has become part of the na...

For a designer suffering from anxiety, banknote design offers a much needed escapism to a world where attention to detail is celebrated and obsessive compulsiveness is a virtue.

We’re approaching the era when, just like vinyl and compact cas...

If, fatigued by political and religious debates, you seek comfort in the thought that everyone agrees about colors, you’re in for a tremendous surprise. Keep reading!

At first glance, it’s hard to imagine something as simple and easy-to-unde...

The Schmetterschwanz Diaries is a series of posts about a mysterious manuscript I discovered during my self-isolation into my own imaginary world while the real one was ravaged by the greatest pandemic of my lifetime.

Writing nonsense is as hard as writing anything else. To be convincing, you ha...

The Schmetterschwanz Diaries is a series of posts about a mysterious manuscript I discovered during my self-isolation into my own imaginary world while the real one was ravaged by the greatest pandemic of my lifetime.

Both real and imaginary worlds come into existence from things that are inexpl...

The Schmetterschwanz Diaries is a series of posts about a mysterious manuscript I discovered during my self-isolation into my own imaginary world while the real one was ravaged by the greatest pandemic of my lifetime.

To little children, alphabets seem as elemental as air. The idea that someone ...

The latest Krachkultur cover is an artistic statement against the tyranny of the working class values. Artists of the world, let’s start a revolution!

It’s hardly a coincidence the myth of the hard worker has been co-opted by both capitalism and communism. Just like the Chr...

Once I heard Neil Gaiman speak of his compost heap—a term he used in order to describe all those impressions and artifacts that end up “influencing” his writing. Somewhat disappointedly, he remarked that people’s expectations about that compost heap were quite narrow. Most of us assume writers are influenced by novels, si...

Going through my Instagram posts, trying to make sense of everything that happened. It was a year to remember. But not too much.

Being a professional writer is like being a professional gambler. I can never pred...