Exclusive Interview for Votra Magazine with Luan Rama: “The Intersection of Life, Literature, and Art”
A Deep Dive into the Creative Process, Passions, and Unique Perspectives of Renowned Writer and Diplomat Luan Rama
Luan Rama is a name that resonates within the world of Albanian literature and diplomacy. With a prolific career spanning decades, Rama has become known not only for his literary works but also for his significant contributions to Albanian culture and history. In this exclusive interview with “Votra Magazine”, Luan Rama opens up about his creative process, his experiences as a writer, and the passions that fuel his work. From his time as a filmmaker to his extensive travels, Rama’s journey offers a unique lens through which to view the world—one where literature, history, and art converge.
Through candid reflections on his daily routine, his connection to the world around him, and the emotional depth that drives his writing, this interview provides a rare glimpse into the mind of a man who has dedicated his life to storytelling. Whether he is writing poetry, crafting novels, or conducting historical research, Luan Rama’s work continues to inspire and captivate readers around the globe. Join us as we explore the stories behind the stories, in this in-depth conversation with one of Albania’s most distinguished cultural figures.
“Literature Cannot Be Conceived Without the Journey Through Human Life”
- What does a typical day look like for you as a writer?
My days are often similar, but the rhythm can change occasionally. However, I never stop. Some writers stop writing for months or even years and then suddenly start again—these are often great writers. Hemingway was like that. But I write continuously, which is why I have such a large number of books, though I won’t judge their artistic quality. After all, literature is a passion, and the word “writer” is a big title to claim. I remain modest in my writing.
Years ago, I used to write at night, by the light of a lamp, even in bed until two in the morning. Now I don’t write at night anymore, and I don’t know why. In the evenings, I usually watch films, and they inspire me. Then I quickly grab a piece of paper and jot something down. For the past two years, I’ve been going to a café near my house in the mornings and writing for one or two hours. Later in the afternoon, I sit at my desk at home and write on the computer. This rhythm only changes when I travel.
I often work on two or three books simultaneously and never focus on just one until it’s finished. It could be a novel, a poetry book, or historical writings. I also write various pieces throughout the day that I share on my Facebook page. I don’t let time pass idly. When I’m not feeling inspired to write poetry or fiction, I turn to historical books. That’s why I’ve written and published dozens of books, many of which have been translated into other languages like French, English, Italian, Greek, Macedonian, and recently Romanian. For example, my book “Epistolari i Zaratës” has been translated into English, French, and Italian. Recently, I received the cover for the Romanian translation of my novel “Dalja,” which has been titled “E dashur e maleve” in Romanian, following its earlier French title “Konkubina e maleve.”
Then there are anthologies, poetry collections, and short stories, along with poetry festivals, symposiums, and conferences that require time to prepare. Meeting with foreign literary colleagues is always an enriching experience. For instance, on August 6th, a new poetry anthology was published in Italy, and I am a part of that collection. - How do you use your free time to have a positive impact on your writing?
Over 14 years, I worked as a filmmaker and scriptwriter, with one of my films being “Vajzat me kordele të kuqe” (“The Girls with Red Ribbons”). My free time often involves meeting with French and Albanian friends—painters, writers, filmmakers, art historians, and others. I also spend time with the children of my two daughters, who fill me with their world of childhood passions. Children can teach you a lot. “The Little Prince” by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry was a book for both children and adults. He wrote it after experiencing a plane crash in the African desert. The world of children initially inspired me to write scripts for animated films, and over the past three years, I’ve also written children’s books, including ten volumes of the “Më quajnë” (“My Name Is”) series published by ALBA’s, featuring figures like Onufri, Queen Teuta, Skanderbeg, Ismail Qemali, Dora d’Istria, Aleksandër Moisiu, and others. When I’m with the kids, I love taking their pictures. I enjoy capturing them in original compositions, as well as photographing urban life. - Do you have any activities or rituals that stimulate your creativity before you start writing?
Rituals differ from one writer to another. In Paris, Ismail Kadare used to write only in the mornings, for an hour or two at a café near his house called “Rostand.” He had his own chair in a corner of the café, from where he observed the passing crowd. Afternoons were reserved for walks in the “Jardin du Luxembourg.” That was his writing ritual.
As for me, I don’t have a fixed ritual. I often enjoy writing while traveling, whether on a train, the metro, or an airplane. Being in motion or in the sky gives me a special stimulation, a kind of exhilaration. That’s why I always carry a notebook with me. However, the most important factor for a writer is their emotional state. It requires a deep, inner touch. That’s how it generally works for me. For instance, one day, while traveling on the metro, I received news of a poet friend’s passing. Immediately, I took out a piece of paper and wrote a poem for him during the ride: “Poetet vdesin si zogjtë” (“Poets Die Like Birds”). Similarly, while on a train to Honfleur in Normandy, I found myself alone in a carriage with a beautiful girl sleeping across from me. I watched her for a while and immediately wrote the poem “Shëëët… ajo po fle” (“Shh… She’s Sleeping”). - How do you stay organized to balance your writing with other responsibilities in your life?
– After my diplomatic career, I spent ten years lecturing at one of the oldest and most prestigious institutes in Paris, “Institut National des Langues et Civilisations Orientales.” That’s where I eventually retired. Despite being occupied with lectures on geopolitics, the history of Albania, and a sociology course linked to anthropology for master’s students, I still managed to write and publish, mostly historical books like “Konsullatat franceze gjatë shekujve XVII-XIX në Shqipëri” (“French Consulates in Albania During the 17th-19th Centuries”), “Shqipëria e Auguste Dozon,” “Shqipëria gjatë luftërave normando-bizantine” (“Albania During the Norman-Byzantine Wars”), among others, as well as biographical works like “Gjenerali De Gol – një legjendë e gjallë”* (“General De Gaulle – A Living Legend”), “Miterani” (“Mitterrand”), and monographs on painters and poets, including “Udhëtimi i mbramë i Artur Rimbaud” (“Arthur Rimbaud’s Last Journey”) and “Pikëtakim me Jean Cocteau” (“Encounter with Jean Cocteau”). With retirement, I became fully free to dedicate myself to literature, and writing novels became a passionate endeavor. - What daily emotions or experiences do you incorporate into your writing?
In a writer’s stories and narratives, there are always moments tied to their life experiences. Writers like Hemingway and Remarque depicted their own experiences of World War I and World War II in their remarkable novels. Through my travels to northern Albania, I’ve gained not only historical knowledge and vivid images but also unforgettable characters.
My novel “Mëkati i Justinës” (“The Sin of Justina”), published by “Onufri,” is based on a brief mention of a story by the French consul in Shkodra, Alexandre Degrand, in his book “Kujtime nga Shqipëria e Epërme” (“Memories of Upper Albania”). This story required imagination to bring it to life, drawing parallels with “The Salem Witch Trials” but set in northern Albania at the end of the 19th century. I had to enrich it with details about how Albanians lived during that period—what mythology, rituals, love, and sensuality were like at the time.
Similarly, with my novel “Dalja,” I portrayed the life of my grandmother. It tells the story of a concubine who, after her husband was killed by lightning, chose to stay and marry her husband’s brother, even though he was already married, instead of returning to her family to start a new life. It’s a dramatic situation that reveals a profound sense of humanity. - How does the environment around you influence your writing process?
– For some reason, the environment where I write doesn’t affect my work. I often write in noisy places, surrounded by people moving about, talking, or even while I’m in motion. When I decide to write, it’s as if the surroundings vanish. My mind detaches in a strange way, which isn’t new for me. When I was a student, perhaps because we had limited space, I would study for exams amidst people coming and going, where conversations, there were constant laughter, and noise. Physically, I was there, but mentally, I was somewhere else—in the world of my book. Many writers need complete silence and solitude to work, but I find that I can write in any environment. - Do you have any particular rituals when starting or finishing a writing project?
– When I sit down to write, I have no specific rules. I’m not like those writers who begin without knowing the trajectory of their story. They operate like Picasso, who once said, “I search, and I find.” For me, having been a filmmaker (and still writing scripts—I grew up next to a cinema in Tirana, which reminds me of the film “Cinema Paradiso”), I usually have a clear idea of how the story will unfold—the dramatic action, the characters’ interventions, and the ending. This is what in filmmaking we call the “scaletta.” In fact, when I write, I imagine the episodes in advance, as if I’m describing something I’ve already seen or envisioned. But I also differ from others in that. I sometimes start writing a novel by beginning with the ending. It might seem absurd, but it serves as the driving force to narrate the rest of the story. - How do you manage your time to write amidst daily responsibilities and commitments?
Paris is a vibrant capital filled with artistic events, numerous art exhibitions, sculptures, photography, cinematic performances, musical concerts, and opera shows. It’s no coincidence that, in the early 20th century, we had what was called the “Ecole de Paris,” when many artists from around the world came here and created extraordinary works within the embrace of this historical and cultural metropolis.
Over the years, with a curious spirit, I have refined my tastes and learned a lot, but there’s always more to learn. But for that, you need to dedicate time and passion. For three decades, I’ve been one of the founders of the “ALBANIA” association and later of the cultural center “La Maison de l’Albanie” in Paris.
Over ten years, this center has organized more than 200 cultural and scientific events featuring Albanian and French personalities, writers, historians, painters, photographers, archaeologists, and French researchers of Albanian culture and heritage, among others
I also have to find time for my archival research in the archives of France, particularly the Foreign Ministry. Writing a book about Albanian stratioti under the flags of French kings in the 1500-1600s requires archival research and old books. The same was true for my book “Tek Frankët,” which I published on the history of the Albanian diaspora in France. So, alongside my writing passions, I remain engaged in civic duties. - How does your lifestyle influence your creativity?
This is an interesting question, and it immediately made me think of Hemingway or the American writer Jim Morrison. The latter was a very simple man who loved drinking and women but never adopted the pose of an intellectual. He lived simply among ordinary people who had experienced dramatic and tragic events in their lives. His literature emerged from those encounters and journeys. Bukowski, too, was a man who poetized his life and loves, as did Marguerite Duras.
I remember when I came to France after the fall of Hoxha’s statue in Tirana’s square, I searched for Sadik Premte. I had been informed that he lived in Paris, as I had met some old émigrés. But two months later, when I finally found where he lived, he had just passed away, and his brother had returned to Albania. Premte was a historical figure and someone deeply connected to the Trotskyist movement in France—a character from a novel, though one I couldn’t write about without knowing him personally.
In the mid-1990s, I also met an Albanian émigré from Përmet who had come to France in the 1930s. His life was an interesting story that I published in the novel “L’Albanais – Shqiptari,” which was published last year. It is always the direct knowledge of places or characters that leads you to writing. When I was a filmmaker, along with director Muharrem Fejzo and renowned writer Sterjo Spasse, we went to Prespa. The idea was to create a film based on one of Spasse’s best novels. It was there that I discovered the island of Maligrad and the story of a hermit living in the rocky caves of the lake. Those images stayed with me, and only three years ago, I sat down to write the novel “Kthimi i flamandëve” (“The Return of the Flemings”), which is set during World War I on the Albanian-Macedonian front, in Maligrad, and tells the story of the hermit. - Lastly, what are your other passions or hobbies?
– My passions are many, but the three main ones are traveling, music, and stamps. When I was a filmmaker in Albania, I traveled a lot. I loved the northern Albanian mountains and the southern peaks. Walking from Theth to Qafa e Pejës or descending from Bajram Curri into the massive valley of Curraj i Epërm, these journeys evoke powerful and unforgettable emotions.
Traveling allows you to meet simple people, often poor, who share only bread and cheese with you, yet their eyes shine with something grand—an uplifting love that is difficult to describe with words. There, you find life experiences, human dramas and tragedies, and the wonderful lyricism of love—a never-ending source of inspiration for literature and art. It’s the experience of life. You cannot capture such realities from the city or from a café. It was my travels that took me to Greece, where I visited the Arvanite villages, from the outskirts of Athens to the Peloponnese, Corinth, Megara, and finally to Thebes and the mountain village of Arvanitsa, where Delphi is not far away. That’s how I managed to write and publish the book “Në Greqi me arvanitët” (“In Greece with the Arvanites”) in both Albanian and French.
In two days, I’ll be heading to the French Alps, to Morzine, near the Swiss border. Five years ago, I visited the house where the great Nobel laureate Albert Cohen, a Jew, had hidden to escape persecution. Now that I’m going back, I know I’ll write something about it…
My second passion is music. I love the classics, starting with Mozart, and then Bach, Brahms, Handel, Albinoni, and others. I often play them in the background while I write. My third passion is stamps. Since I was a teenager, I’ve been passionate about stamps. At the age of 13-14, I was part of several international philatelic clubs.
Every week, when the old postman would come and bring a letter, he would say to my grandmother, “A letter for Mr. Rama…” One day, when I was playing barefoot in the yard, the postman came, and my grandmother was in the courtyard of the building. The postman handed her the letter and said, “A letter for Mr. Rama.” (He never used the word “comrade.”) My grandmother smiled and pointed out which one of the children I was. The old postman laughed at my childish and dusty appearance. Even today, I still collect stamps, especially those featuring artists and art, churches, monasteries, cultural heritage, and so on. Stamps are an imaginary journey through the world and history…
