FROM THE AUTHOR
I probably spend more time in my fictional world than here in the real one. My wife, Annukka, calls this world Jimland. It’s a place where priests are spies and traitors are heroes and heroes run screaming into despair. A place where the dreams and truths that people hold most dear are revealed as sickness and hallucination. A place where those illusions dissolve, where people hold up mirrors to look at themselves and are shocked to discover they don’t recognize who they see. Welcome to Jimland.
There must be something fundamentally wrong with a person who aspires to be a novelist. In order to become good at the job, a writer sits alone in a room for thousands of hours practicing the craft of writing, honing skills and learning how to tell a good story. The process is largely thankless, and most writers, even great ones, never get published. Most brilliant writing never sees the light of day. Even worse, would-be novelists are often looked down upon. When you get published, people do you the honor of calling you an author. Until then, you’re just a jackass with a hobby.
As such, writing is a labor of love. I don’t know why other people write, but I do it mostly because I get edgy and neurotic if I don’t write. I think Graham Greene said it best in Ways of Escape, “Writing is a form of therapy; sometimes I wonder how those who do not write, compose or paint manage to escape the madness, the melancholia, the panic fear which is inherent in the human condition.” I’ve been incredibly lucky. I get paid to do something that began as a way of hanging onto my sanity.
I sometimes feel sorry for Annukka. She listens to me tell stories and talk about my writing and the research behind it for hours at a time. Not a whole lot of people are willing to listen to, for instance, an hour long lecture on Rasputin’s early religious influences. Conversely, sometimes I won’t speak for a whole day because I’m banging out a first draft and don’t want my fictive dream broken. She must love me a lot to put up with it. She not only understands me, but has been behind me every step of the way. She recently told me that she’s proud of me because of my writing. Nothing means more to me than that.
An 80,000-word book equates to 80,000 decisions. No writer makes that many decisions correctly. Support and encouragement is valuable, but writing a good book requires tough criticism. Reading and critiquing a novel with care and accuracy is a major undertaking and a huge favor, a true gift, and I’m indebted to a number of people for their contributions toward my development as a writer:
Literary experts from the University of Helsinki, Dr. Phillips Brooks PhD and Dr. Nely Keinänen PhD, used to be my teachers and are now my friends. They’ve devoted their valuable time, energy and prowess to criticizing my work over the years.
Juha Tupasela is one of the best readers I know. He makes his living as a translator and is a damned good one, but his heart is in fiction, and I believe that eventually he’ll make his mark in the world as a writer and editor.
Several people have acted as faithful readers because they love literature and are happy to play a part in its creation. These include Giuseppe Fugazzotto, Paul Herring, Sari Kuivanen, Tuomas Natri and Jenny Poole. My parents, Judith Chabot and James Thompson, are also faithful readers and good critics possessed of remarkable acumen.
Photographer Markus Shulte not only reads my books but shot photos for the cover of Across the Green Line. Plus, he’s just such a cool guy.
Simon Solstrand, who seems to know everything about everything, has advised me on many technical matters.
Marko Anttila has done me many good turns, including introducing me to my editor at Johnny Kniga and keeping my computers running.
Three writers and I send work back and forth for criticism: Kevin Frazier, Joel Kuntonen and Karen Ross (not a group, relationships independent of each other). Now we’re all published, so I think these relationships have been gone a long way to developing our skills as writers.
I especially owe Kevin a hell of a lot, because he’s done everything in his power to help me in various ways. Like me, Kevin has lived here in Finland for a decade. His book, Nicole, was to my knowledge the first novel to be published by an American—and maybe by any foreigner—as domestic Finnish literature. My book, Across the Green line, is the second. From a cultural standpoint, we’re both honored to be considered in this way. Kevin and I are writing a film together, called The Killing Academy.
I hear a lot of horror stories from writers about their experiences in the publishing industry. My road to publication has been nothing but pleasurable and rewarding, and I’ve had the opportunity to be associated with a number of warm and talented people.
Beverly Martin of Literary Agent Research, a veteran writer and author of more than twenty books, set me on the road to finding a literary agent and taught me what it takes to make it in the world of professional writing.
Literary agent Nat Sobel is an industry legend, and as I have discovered, with good reason. The opportunity to work with him is a privilege.
They say that good editors are a dying breed. Maybe dying, but not dead. Jaakko Pietiläinen, my editor at Johnny Kniga, is inspired at what he does and quite simply makes me a better writer. As an editor, he’s outstanding. As a friend, he’s priceless. We’ve spent many hours together, either working or just hanging around, and I’ve valued every minute. Jaakko ‘discovered’ me and got me a book deal. He has my undying gratitude for so many things.
Johnny Kniga’s publisher, Jyrki Nieminen, is a warm and wonderful human being. I don’t make friends easily, but after spending about an hour in his company, I felt like we had been friends for years. And Jyrki’s got fucking guts. Across the Green Line is a controversial book and American publishers were afraid to touch it. Jyrki took it on and gave me the opportunity to make my voice heard. Jaakko and Jyrki contracted with me for three novels before the first one hit the bookstores. That kind of confidence in my work humbles me.
Translator Tarja Lipponen is obsessed with perfection. She’s not only immensely, maybe uniquely talented, but went way beyond the call of duty in translating Across the Green Line from English into the Finnish Jerusalemin veri. When I read her translation, I just couldn’t believe she did it. At times, I like it better in Finnish than in English.
A number of other people contributed to Across the Green Line. These include experts on, among other things, Arabic, French and Hebrew language experts, Christian, Jewish and Islamic religious experts, gunsmiths and bomb experts. Because of the controversial nature of the book and mostly at their requests, their names aren’t listed here. You know who you are and you have my gratitude.
