Initially I wanted to produce a film about Franz Mesmer, a German physician whose research led to the development of hypnotism. I read quite a few books about him, and eventually discovered Mademoiselle Paradis, an eighteen-year-old blind musician whose blindness Franz tried unsuccessfully to “cure.” Whatever I read, the story was the same: she was a victim. She never decided anything in her life. She never had any control.

Drawn to her, I decided to make a work of fiction about her instead of making a film about him, and to give this woman the willpower she did not have, purportedly, in real life.

My idea was to write about a blind girl who does not consider her blindness as a curse or a catastrophy; rather, it is just part of who she is.

This interest and idea of mine, I now understand, was probably triggered by the fact that, when my daughter was born, she did not seem to see until she was nearly five months old. Although eye doctors said this could happen and there was no reason to be worried, I was, of course, sick with worries. And I remember telling myself then, “It's not so bad being blind. Being deaf would be worse. If she indeed is blind, I'll make her a happy blind person.”

Interestingly, I was not conscious of this associated until after I finished writing the book.

While I wrote (and changed) Paradis’ story, I did not want to listen to the music she wrote in real life. What if I had hated it? I would then no longer be able to reinvent her. Once I finished writing it, however, I went and listened to her most famous piece titled “La Sicilienne.” I was amazed to discover that her music sounded exactly like I had imagined it.