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This is not so much a philosophical question but a personal one. What is the place of origin from whence your stories arise (like spectres becoming flesh? And yes, that was purplish on purpose. My attempt at humour.) What is the birthplace of your inspiration?

Stephen King wrote somewhere that his stories were written by a man, who had been afraid for xx years. I cannot remember the quote exactly but basically what he said was that he had written down his fears. That was the first time I ever even thought that someone's stories might come from a place of fear. Well, they are horror stories, most of them, but since I read them as titillating suspense fiction, it had never occurred to me that a more serious, compelling emotion might the driving force behind them.

An artist said in our newspaper that he thought all art should strive to address the problems in our society; that this was the purpose of art. Well, art, fiction and visual arts are all certainly apt mediums for doing just that but it needs to be honest. Art itself has no definite purpose, in my opinion. Art is self expression, so how could it have an extrernally defined purpose? I am not a particularly political person and therefore any art that I produce  (good or bad) cannot be political in nature. Maybe it could become political in someone else's eyes, but I didn't fashion it in that form. The purpose of my art is, and has always been, to reflect my dreams.

Ever since I was a little girl, I always wanted to write and draw people and things that were exciting, somehow better than reality and that is a place of dreams without a doubt. Perhaps a gothic environment where beautiful, eternal vampire princesses wander and carry many secrets? I don't know how far I could go with this (how many gothic novellas of beautiful vampire princesses with many secrets can anyone write?) but I know that whatever I do, I cannot stay interested in it, unless it is something that charms me. I never finished any of these stories and most of them I told only in my head, but the feeling of being transported someplace grand was what I wanted out of them. Mainly I wanted to bask in that feeling of excitement. I don't know if that is ever enough to make one into a writer? I didn't want to tell a story as much as I wanted to be in it.



Some people want to make others laugh. Some want to time travel and visit history or envision the future. And some people just want to tell stories about ordinary human beings living ordinary lives and find the depth and meaning in that. What I belive is, there has to be passion for the vision: it has to, somehow, be a place where the writer/artist wants to be. Otherwise, how could they keep going?

Whether an artist can have more than one core passion is something I don't know, because the core passion I am talking about is the underlying feeling that drives one to write or paint and keep going. As I write this, I understand that I don't understand and that this is the question I would like to see answered in interviews. What drives you? Why do you create? An honest answer, no matter how silly or short, is good. I wouldn't need big pholosophical ponderings (unless that is the most truthful answer).Just that little something that offers an insight into anothers world view.

But would I get honest answers? For example, what makes a person write murder mysteries? What is the core feeling, that secret passion that makes them put the pen to the paper (fingertips to the keyboard) time and time again to create more? I do enjoy my Agatha Christie novels but I don't understand what made her write them. And what about nordic noir? What makes that type of book pop out of someone's brain? Is it the need to address societal problems? But what if someone cannot stop writing murder mysteries, because they are enamoured by their own cleverness? If the underleying passion there is pure conceitednes? Would they say: "I cannot stop writing, because I always surprise myself with my own greatnes"? So, maybe I wouldn't get an answer, not an honest one anyway, but I would still love to know.
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Today I finally finished my 75000 words challenge for the year. And not only that, I finished my story that I have been writing for three years now. The feeling was somewhat anticlimactic compared to what I had envisioned, because even though I had written down the words THE END, I found it so very hard to belive that it was finally there. I had to go for a walk and tell myself repeatedly that I had finished to believe it. I think 2/3 of me believes it now but the rest still needs convincing.

The part of me that does not fully believe that the story is done is hanging on to all of the editing that I still need to do. That part tells me almost belligerently: "But you are not done! Not done by far! Just look at all of the loose ends, all of  the changes that you still need to write in, all of the scenes and sentences that you need to take out. You, done? Dream on!" And I almost believed in the voice, because it was so very forceful in its dismissal of my victory. But after sitting down and thinking for a while I had an answer ready.

If I look at the story from the perspective of what could be better, it will never be done. I don't believe that a single piece of art (good or bad) is ever truly done. I don't remember who said this first but I find it a sharp and true: "A piece of art is never done; we just let go of it". And so I allowed my characters to return home and there was even a home within that home and when they were there, I let them go. The story has a beginning, the mi/uddle and now the end. Whatever changes may happen within it, the story itself is done. I am finished.

The voice was not quite placated, but instead said: "But the story could continue. So many things could still happen. They could take off again tomorrow and start another adventure. They could take an adventure where they are right now. It could happen". At this point I told the voice that yes, it was absolutely right: the story could continue. As a matter of fact, all stories in the world could continue on and on, ad infinitum. It's just a matter of knowing when to take out the scissors and snip the story off. I took out my scissors now and snipped at the point where my characters had returned to where they originally started. I found this circle good.

The voice lost control then, and broke out in rage, yelling: "But it is BAD! The story is BAD!!" Well... no it is not. Is it excellent? No. But bad it is not. And besides that, what does it matter whether it is bad or not? If all stories unleashed unto this world that are bad were treated as unfinished, at least half of them would be left unpublished. And mine is my first try of a full-length book. How does bad equal unfinished?

No, whatever you may say, voice, the story is done. I finished my three-year task today. I wrote the words THE END and the end was there.  I did it. I made it to the finishing line and toppled over it and here I am, on the other side. This story is finished and I am done.



I never could have made it without joining the group Get Your Words Out. I didn't make friends there because I wrote in Finnish, and therefore becoming someone's writing buddy would have been somewhat of a one sided task. Still, the times when I did exchange a few words with people there were very encouraging. Also knowing that there was a goal that I needed meet and report to someone monthly really kept me going.
www.getyourwordsout.net/about-us/

I learned so much, let go of so much pride and false assumptions about writing. I have written a Master's Thesis, yes, and that was hard work for me then, but so was this now. Writing a book is difficult. Writing a book is damned hard. It is not a breeze; at least it wasn't to me. But perhaps in the future I get better at it and then the act of writing becomes easier? The future will tell.

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