I Write, Therefore I Heal.
The pain in my fingers, I remember it so well from those early days sitting on my chamber (aka boy room) writing down one detective story after another on my old mechanical typewriter. There was murders, red herrings, corny named mystery solvers (one was named Guld — the Swedish word for gold I remember) and the traditional family gathering at the ends where my master detective finally revealed who the killer (or the killers) were!
During my school years I learned to typewrite properly and the speed of my fingers almost came up to the speed of my thoughts. It’s one of the most valuable things I’ve learned from school, and the talent I’ve had most use for so far in my career. A couple of years ago, after a traumatic experience during a project I worked on, I withdrew from all social activities and spent three months at home, or out in the nature, and at the same time I started to write all the thoughts I was carrying within in. The result became Homo Satanis: How I Learned to Love Satan and other Insights from my Childhood, a collection of essays on finding myself, individualism and the philosophy of my choice: Satanism, as founded my Anton LaVey in the sixties. The latter a mix of positive thinking, healthy individualism, pop culture and magick — and boy, did it hit me right in the gut and finally I started to shape up, took care of both my inner and outer self and through that began a healing process that is still going on.
You know, words are magic(k), words is spelling and spelling is spells. Write something down and it can be your or someone else’s reality, for good or bad. For me scribbling down those sentences, one word after another, suddenly started to define my existence and I managed through the writing to somehow find a place in this universe: myself. I don’t believe in god or the devil, heaven and hell — I believe in myself, even if I’m just a human and have days of lows and ups as anyone else. I had this idea that if my thoughts, insights and experiences helped me maybe they could inspired someone else. It’s been a year now since Homo Satanis came out and the reception have mostly been very warm. I’ve received emails telling me how much my texts have helped them to cope with certain things, and for those who already felt they had everything in order it was a great read. I’m blushing when writing down stuff like this, but I’m proud if that book — even if I’ve changed a lot during the last year. Homo Satanis was part of my journey, and now the sequel is here: Homo Satanis 2: The Devil Made Me Do It! Here’s the text from the back of the book:
True individualism is to acknowledge and accept the differences of others; to live the life you want to live without interfering on your neighbor — or any other human being. Live and let live, it’s that simple. That’s the core of Fred Andersson’s philosophy humorously named Cheerful Satanism. This is the second collection of essays on the subject of being free, the first one being Homo Satanis: How I Learned to Love Satan and other Insights from my Childhood, published in 2018.
In Homo Satanis 2: The Devil Made Me Do It! Fred brings up his own personal views on Satanism, individualism, friendships, patriotism, the danger of victimhood, family, Christianity, psychic vampirism, love and hate, truth and reality, sex and many other subjects. It’s honest and frank, straight to the point — and with a non-judgmental attitude. These texts are meant as an inspiration to cultivate your own uniqueness and embracing similarities to others without giving up on your own existence.
Fred Andersson is a Swedish author, individualist, story producer for television and collector of all things awesome. He lives outside Stockholm, Sweden, together with his photographer husband Grzegorz, two cats and a vast collection of movies and books.
I couldn’t have written the sequel without the help and inspiration of friends, new and old, those who have read it and those who haven’t — including fans and haters. They’re all a part of the process, my process. Homo Satanis 2 is now out on paperback. It’s possible to read without reading the first, but they both looks gorgeous together on the shelf.
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I still have those old detective stories by the way, papers almost hammered to death by the crude machine I was writing them with. They’re basically unreadable to be honest, but the love for writing is clearly there. And I will continue to write as long as so live, as it’s the most powerful kind of healing I’ve encounter so far.
Fred Andersson
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