The following Q&A appeared in promotional materials for the film Ring Ø: Birthday. Translated by and appearing here courtesy of Kevin McGue.

What do you think of the phenomenon of the "Ring virus" spreading through our society?

Well, I couldn't be more pleased. It seems that there's almost no one in the younger generation who doesn't know the story of the Ring. No longer only a book, it's been picked up by movies, TV dramas, computer games, and every other form of media. The image of Sadako walking has become synonymous with ghosts. I've even heard that the kids at my daughter's elementary school "play Sadako" during recess.

What was the impetus behind the story of  the Ring?

I used to work as a cram school teacher, and my pupils were always bugging me to tell them scary stories. Never funny stories or touching stories, only scary ones. I like thinking up stories, so I made some up to tell them. It was during this time that I realized how to make someone scared. It has something to do with children. For example, I'd say something like "This scary thing happened in New York..." and start telling a story about something that happened far away. But in the end, just when the people who'd been listening to this story knew that something scary was about to happen, they'd suddenly think that it was going to happen to them. I thought it wasn't possible to use this technique in a novel, and actually when I was writing the Ring, I wasn't really thinking about it at all. But looking back now, I realize that this idea was present in my subconscious. When I'm working on my novels, I'm not really conscious of what I'm doing. The plot isn't decided at the onset--something in the air just sets me off and I start writing. No one knows what will happen. However, there are all sorts of thoughts and experiences piled up inside me that come out when I'm writing. Even if I say I wasn't aware of it, there were still elements of my experience with those students floating around in the back of my mind.

In the Ring novel, the flickering cuts in the video are dreadfully scary.

Yes, but that wasn't what I was thinking about from the beginning. The idea that started the Ring was, "What if four men died in different places at the exact same time?" Then I had to think of what these men had in common, something they had caught. A virus? Maybe a virus that kills exactly one week after someone is infected. So they had to be together at in the same place at that time. Then the problem became deciding on what the virus was. A toxin in the food? No, it would have to be something you could see. A ghost? No, not in this day and age.

I was thinking about this when I looked next to my word processor and saw a videotape. Oh, yeah, so I'll have the four people watch the video tape. But what's on this tape? It's not a coherent, logical story, just a string of fragmentary scenes. When creating those images, I had to refrain from thinking logically. I randomly lined up the thoughts that were floating around in my head and just typed them all out at once.

Later, I put myself in Asakawa's shoes to analyze the video images I had described. I realized that the images could be separated into two categories: images that are floating or hidden in the scenes, and images that can actually be seen with the naked eye. I had to make some distinction between the two. How could I do this? Some of the images pass through your retina, but you don't actually see them, and so you don't blink. The images that you can see with you naked eye cause you to blink and are held inside by the black curtain of that blink. And then later I inserted these blinks into the story. Well, these images that you can see as they pass into your eye, how were they copied onto the tape? Were they broadcast from somewhere? Were they the result of pirated signals? No. Then I began to think that it could be nensha [the ability to project images onto paper, photographs, etc. with the mind]. Alright, so I'll go with nensha.

Then I began to read up on ESP. Before that, I hadn't been thinking of putting a psychic in the story. I wasn't really interested in it in the beginning, but I did some reading on the topic. You know, about Professor Fukurai and so on. The story of the Ring really began to unfold from there. You never know what will happen in the creative process, do you? If I can't read ahead to find out what is going to happen, then my readers can't either. That kind of stance is the position a writer has to take.

Ring Ø: Birthday is based on your story "Lemonheart," isn't it?

Yes. I used to belong to a theatrical group. The novel draws on my experiences from that time. When a plan to make Ring 3 came up, I thought that if they were going to do that then I should propose using "Lemonheart."

And what was your reason for doing that?

That setting of that novel is the theater. I thought that should definitely be used. I have some experience working with a theatrical group. A theater is a scary, interesting place. There's a Shinto altar behind the stage, and so on. If it's an old theater, there are definitely scary stories about the place. It's the kind of place where people are likely to hold a grudge for a long time. They get outbid by another troupe. The sets and props back stage are in a jumble and collapse. Accidents are likely to happen. There are all sorts of desires whirling about. For example, there are a lot of understudies who think that if the lead actor would only get sick and can't go on, then they'll have their big break. Since the theater is such a scary place, then I should be able to make a scary story out of it.

What is the scary point of "Lemonheart"?

Well, it's the tape recorder. In the theatrical group I was in charge of sound effects. I would record music and sound effects and edit them together on a reel-to-reel. When the play started, I'd synch the sounds up to the action to play the sounds on cue. Recording, editing, playing back the recordings--I did all that during the performance, from start to finish. But you know, sometimes unidentified sounds, or even voices, would appear on the tape. Sounds that weren't supposed to be there.

What? Really?

Well, OK, I made that up [Laughs].

What about the lemon scent that's drifting through the sound room in "Lemonheart?"

It's a bittersweet symbol of one phase of youth. At this point, Sadako had wound up as a representative of a monster, as well as being an intern in the theatrical group. I wanted to depict a living, breathing human who could love. The lemon acts as a symbol of that.

It occurred to me that tape recorders and videotapes could be metaphors for "circle."

Well, surely that comes from hearing the title Ring. Actually, when I was writing the Ring I got about halfway through and I hadn't thought of a title yet. I happened to be thumbing through an English-Japanese dictionary when I decided it was about time to decide on something. And then the word "ring" passed my eye. I had the strong feeling that it would fit. "Ring" is usually used as a noun, isn't it? But there is also a verb usage of ring, meaning "to call someone," or "to call out," such as an alarm clock or phone ringing. I liked this. And so from the beginning I didn't exactly use the name Ring in the circular sense. But since I gave it that title, as lot of circular things have up in the story. The spiral, the DNA double helix, the loop, and so on. I guess it's a good thing I chose that title.

In an earlier interview you expressed the desire to have Birthday be the end of the Ring series. But now that is has become this popular, do you still feel the same way?

It hasn't changed my mind. The series is already finished. Birthday exists as a supplementary story. I had wanted to make it an integral part of the series, but there were some portrayals I wanted to include that didn't fit in the series, and so I put it out as a separate novel. In Loop, I parted the dark clouds and showed a little of the clear skies on the other side. Your future is OK, so I made a conclusion and finished the story. I thinking that I will respond to a request from some of my readers to write a trilogy on a different topic.

You are very disciplined about keeping your body in shape. Is there any connection between that and your life as a writer?

The "no one knows what will happen" method of writing a novel that I talked about earlier is also true for a musical composer. I don't mean a composer sitting in front of sheet of staff paper making full use of harmony and counterpoint to logically compose music. It's not about logic. If you hone your whole body, this concept will enter your ear also, and you will be able to make music. If you're Mozart, then this will be transferred to a whole orchestra. The composition is feverishly copied out onto paper. But before the music is heard, where is it? All around is empty space. The music flies into the ear. Such composers sense something drifting through the air, through them, and begin writing it down. To do that, you have to put antennae on your body. You have to hone your sensitivity. Disciplining my body is only part of my greater goal to discipline my sensitivity.

Do you have any final comments for fans of the movies?

First of all, I'm very pleased that my work has been adapted into so many media. But don't stop with just the film media. Please check out the novels, too. If you liked the films, please go on to read Ring, Rasen, Loop, and Birthday. And please don't stop in the middle of the series. If you do, the message I'm trying to express through the series will be lost. You should know that it's not a scary ending. My message is hopeful and gives us courage.

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