Murky Clarity

Storytelling: the promise

When I met up with Sharon Bakar last Sunday for our "Readings from Readings 2" promotional slot at Art for Grabs, we chatted a little. She said that I have paid my dues in terms of publishing short stories in magazines and anthologies. Now I have to concentrate on having a book published, be it an anthology of short stories or a novel. A whole book to myself.

Well, I do have several projects running. I've even received the green light for a proposal on an anthology of novellas. I have at least 2 novels in the process of getting written. Somehow, however, I have a difficult time finishing those stories. I am an impulsive writer, you see. I write in spurts, and then stop for long periods. I pour my soul into writing, and the process drains me. I'm not being a writerly snob. Ask Breanna. She knows this is true. That's why I excel at short stories. It only takes that single sprint to come up with 5,000 words.

I have those stories to write, but what am I inspired to do today? Write about writing. I have not garnered accolades, nor have I made a significant mark in the publishing world. I have science fiction, horror and fantasy stories published professionally, but the good people of Malaysia and the SEA region do not even acknowledge my existence as a speculative fiction writer. However, fame and fortune from writing are not the things I seek. If I can reach out to even one person, and make a difference at the time my stories are read, I feel accomplished. Honest.

So. It doesn't matter if you don't really care about what I have to say about fiction writing, but I know there is at least one reader for whom my advice will be useful. So for that one reader, I give my all.

Here it goes.

 

The Promise

Storytelling has played an important role since the time of cavemen, as evidenced by the paintings on walls they have left behind. More often than not, those paintings tell stories of the Hunt, of how a group of warriors felled a great beast, of how some of them had fallen during the hunt. Storytelling is a way to help us remember, to help us learn, to help us make sense of the world around us.

Can anyone be a writer? Surely in school we have written essays and stories. Even a kindergarten child learns how to make proper sentences. Do we have stories to tell? The longer we live, the more experiences we gather, and the more stories we have within us.

The question is, are you a storyteller?

Let's take a newspaper article. I know stories about children being abused and killed are rampant right now, but let's not be insensitive jerks, now shall we? We'll use an article about a foiled robbery attempt instead (the article is taken from The Star Online). In the article, a young man, believed to be a policeman's son, was gunned down by police officers when he and his accomplice tried to rob a convenience store.

Juicy, isn't it? A policeman's son, a robber, shot down by police officer. I am sorry to hear the news, especially how devastating it is for the family members, and I do feel guilty using the article as an example. Still, no identities were released, so I hope it's okay. Is this a story?

It's an article, it's news, but no way in hell does it a story make.

Other writers may disagree with me, but I have traditional values when it comes to storytelling. I have not received a formal education in creative writing--wait. I did attend a semester-worth of creative writing course during my university years. But I am an avid reader, for as long as I can remember. Sharon Bakar also says that I can see the patterns in stories, that I can tell which part works, and which part doesn't. I also bought and read plenty of books on writing when I re-launched my writing career in earnest.

So. Traditional values. A story must have a beginning, a middle, and an end. In the newspaper article, we learn that the robber was 19, that he robbed a convenience store using a machete (God, people, when will you learn to use 'machete' instead of 'parang' in an ENGLISH context?!), and that he and his accomplice panicked when they saw a patrol car outside the store. We learn that he brandied his machete and got gunned down in the process. We also learn an important detail: he was the son of a policeman. We have all this information, but at best we have a scene. We do not have a beginning, a middle, or an end.

So what can we do to make this article a story? Well, it depends on how long you intend the story to be. For a short story, you have one scene, three at most, to create an impact, to have a beginning, a middle, and an end. Publishers and editors like it when a story starts in media res--in the middle of an action/scene.

Here's my take on a possible story:

The beginning

Khairul (we have to give the character a name) runs his finger along the edge of the worn machete. He's listening to his friend Samad coaxing him to rob just one more convenience store. They've done it three times, and they've made almost RM1,000 from those robberies. A small amount, but it was easy money. And they haven't been caught. It's not the money he's after, but robbing is a way he rebels against his stand-up but abusive father. His father is a law enforcer; how ironic it is that his son robs convenience stores. Khairul agrees to rob just one more store.

The middle

It's late at night, and only one sleepy-looking guy barely out of his teens (the same age as Khairul and Samad) mans the counter. There are a few people walking about, but the convenience store is empty save for the cashier. Khairul keeps his machete safe under his jacket. He's done this before; the rush has taken over any signs of nervousness. Samad walks to the end of the store to make sure no one else is around. Then Samad comes back and asks for a pack of cigarette. The guy behind the counter doesn't even ask for an ID, but reaches up toward the top shelf to get the pack of 20s. When he turns back, Khairul already has his machete poised near the cashier's neck. The cashier fumbles and stammers, and Khairul loses his patience. He nicks the shaking guy's neck, drawing blood. Samad demands for all the money in the cash register. What they don't know is that the cashier activates a silent alarm.

They've hit it big this time. A thick wad of RM50 bills gets shoved into a plastic bag. There are several RM100 notes too, along with smaller change. Samad grabs the full bag from the cashier and Khairul uses the back of the machete to club the guy's temple. He crumples, unconscious. Khairul and Samad elbow each other as they exit the store; they can't wait to count the loot.

A patrol car waits for them outside the store (in the article, it might have been a coincidence that the police car was outside. In fiction, there are no such things as coincidences, hence the alarm trigger). Two policemen are behind opened doors, guns pointed at the boys. Samad panics and runs away, but Khairul brandishes his machete at the policemen.

Ending

One shot. Two shots. Three shots are released, puncturing Khairul's lung and abdomen. The distraction he's created has enabled Samad to escape. That's not Khairul's intention, but maybe it's better this way. He gurgles out blood. Suddenly it's difficult to breathe. It's painful. His vision is blurring. He doesn't recognize the policemen, only the familiar dark-blue uniform. The same uniform that he hates the most. He hears his name called. One of the policemen knows him. Knows his father.

As he suffocates on his own blood, Khairul can't help but smile. His father's reputation will be tarnished forever. His revenge is complete.

Note: well, one of the police officers can be his father, but it's predictable and I have to say, overly used.

 

In the beginning of the story, we promised a young man's rebellion against his abusive father. That becomes his motivation to rob convenience stores. That is the promise we give readers, that by the end of the story, Khairul will either get his revenge or he doesn't. Either way, we get a complete character arc. Boy seeks revenge, boy acts on it the way he knows how, and boy finds his revenge in an unexpected way. If your story is plot-driven, you concentrate more on the actions and less on the character arc. It still exists, but not prioritized. If your story is character-driven, you concentrate on Khairul, of his fears and motivations, of his need to rebel against his father.

What's important here is fulfilling the promise. You've promised the reader at the beginning of the story that Khairul wants to rob a convenience store to get back at his father. If your story ends at them exiting the store with the loot, you don't show readers how the robbery affects his father. It's also unexciting. If your story ends at the police officers pointing the gun at them, you'll leave readers hanging, and NO ONE likes to be left hanging. You'll only create anger and people don't want to read your stories anymore.

Somehow, this is a trend with a lot of Malaysian short stories. Letting people think and figure out what happens next. The writer thinks himself as brilliant for doing this, but believe me, he's delusional. NO ONE LIKES TO BE LEFT HANGING.

If you end the story with them successfully robbing the shop, but suddenly Khairul gets hit by lightning (divine intervention) or gets run down a drunken driver, WHAT THE HELL?! This is called deus ex machina--god of the machines, which is a fancy term for shitting on your readers. Trick endings that come unexpectedly and out of nowhere is one of the greatest sins a storyteller can commit.

Somehow, this is also a trend among Malaysian (and Singaporean) writers. Again, WHAT THE HELL?!

So.

First rule as a storyteller: always fulfil your promise to your readers. ALWAYS.

I don't know if this will be a regular thing. I don't dare make any promises. Heh.

Tell me what you think.

A thousand words a day -- is it for you?

More often than not, when you come across writing resources, you will come across this advice: write every day. Set a goal of 500/1000/2000 words per day, but it is imperative that you write. Every. Friggin. Day.

Sage advice. Almost at the level of 'if you want to be a writer, read'. Almost, but not quite there. While it is true that you have to read and read aplenty before you can even dream of becoming a published writer, the 1000-words-per-day advice does not -- and more importantly, cannot -- apply to everyone.

Dispensers of this particular advice claim that by writing every day, you exercise your 'writerly' muscles, regardless whether the output is brilliant or full of shit. Just write. If you produce 1000 words per day, you'll have a complete 60 000-word novel by the end of 2 months, which you can then beat and bully into something presentable -- as opposed to taking a year or ten to write one short story.

Here comes the question of quantity versus quality. Sure, there are NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month -- you have to write at least 50 000 words between November 1 and November 30 to win this challenge) products that make the sale. Some even make the NYT Bestsellers list. Case in point: Sara Gruen's "Water for Elephants" and "Ape House". But how many others out there are non-publishable? Thousands? Tens of thousands?

This is my argument: writing, just like any other form of visual and/or applied Arts, is a creative process (insert right brain vs left brain comments here). You improve through inspiration and discovery, not through practice. There are no muscles for you to train, unlike performing arts. Let me illustrate some examples using other forms of visual arts:

1. Photography. People can buy the most expensive gears and still snap bleh pictures even though they snap every day. You know this. Amateur wedding photographers are cropping up like mushrooms after a shower. How many of them make you go, "Damn, where was this photographer when I got married?!" or "Can I afford this photographer for my wedding day?" Great photographers have an excellent eye for composition (not to mention luck for perfect moments), but they improve not by snapping pictures on a regular basis, but by studying other great photographers, analyzing breathtaking pictures, and discover new angles (usually by accident) as they take pictures.

2. Drawing. Well, you have to have the talent for this. If you can't even draw a decent stick figure, forget about it. I'm not being mean, but a fact's a fact. Before you can argue about this example, I'll admit that we can easily see examples of vast improvements in illustrations throughout the years with artists who post on DeviantART and GFXArtist. Funny thing about drawing is that it uses physical muscles, so it is actually part performing art. The more you draw, the better your control over fine movements of the fingers. Sure, some people doodle every day; they can't help it. This is my point exactly: some, not all. Speaking from personal experience, I don't draw that often. I still have illustrations I made back when I was in Primary and Secondary schools, and yes, my drawings have vastly improved since then. But improvements (in terms of shading, expressions, proportions) happen when I 'discover' through imitating great works, reading up on particular techniques, and people-watching.  Not from drawing on a regular basis.

 

You get the picture (pun intended). The only muscles you train by writing every day are those of your fingers. You'll definitely type faster (if you use the computer. If you actually write write, you may just end up with cramps and ink smudges). Most people won't improve from writing every day. Some may, but most won't.

Why am I adamant enough about this that I've written a complete post? Most of us aren't full-time writers. We have day-jobs and/or night-jobs. We have studying to do. We have children we have to feed/send to school/tutor/monitor/shop for. We have pets who demand our constant attention. We have a sick relative we need to care for. We are everyday people with everyday chores. If you set a daily goal for writing, it becomes another chore, and doing this sucks out all the joy from writing, draining your creativity dry. Writing stories is and will always be a creative process. Never ever drown this. Never ever forget this.

And get this: the writing process doesn't only mean physically writing. You can watch a movie or read a comic and still be writing. You can sit back against the plastic chair at Starbucks and watch people pass you by and still be writing. You observe, you learn, you dissect, you analyze, you discover, and you invite inspiration to sit beside you. You can even snuggle under a down blanket and sleep the whole day away and still dream of worlds you will one day write about.

Do not feel guilty for being away from the keyboard for extended periods, so long as you consciously learn from life and from everything around you, and take note, be it mentally or physically (some people like to have a pocket notebook and a pencil handy). Do not feel guilty for being away from your novel-in-progress. The more time you spend away, the more objective your views become. Don't be surprised if out of the blue you come up with the perfect plot/scene to get the novel moving.

I'm the kind of person who writes the best possible first draft I can come up with. Any editing after that is to correct typos, and occasionally to wipe out a character who doesn't contribute to the story. I don't like re-writing. It feels like I'm forcing my characters to do something they don't want to. I'm mildly schizophrenic that way. My characters are real people, and I cannot just rewind and recreate/repair things to make me feel better. The characters get offended, you see. "Act of Faith" (COSMOS Australia, Dec 2010) is a mildly edited first draft. "Flight of the Ibis" (The Aether Age: Helios) is a first draft. "Hospitality of a Goddess" (Poe Little Thing) is a first draft. "Blood Debt" (2nd place, 9th Annual SFReader Short Story Competition) is a first draft.

Then there are heavily edited stories. "A Long Sigh Goodnight" (Black and Whites and Other New Short Stories From Malaysia, CCC Press) underwent multiple editing to shift scenes here and there, add descriptions, delete whole segments. In "Shadow of Phrixos" (The Aether Age: Helios) I removed a child character who -- to my beta readers -- seemed no more than a prop, and in doing so, I had to rewrite a big chunk of the story. I had to scrape off the whole idea on how snow falls in Kuala Lumpur in "Equatorial Snow" (Crossed Genres, Characters of Color). The then-fiction editor of COSMOS, Damien Broderick, rejected the story with this note:

This is very frustrating. I like your writing, and the touches of (for an Australian readership) exoticism. But the "science" at the core of the story is utterly absurd, and the human tale might as easily be set in any contemporary post-conflict landscape. So I have to decline it, sorry. But please do feel encouraged to submit something built around a strong scientifically-supportable idea.

Damien Broderick

And this, my friends, was how I improved my Science Fiction writing. From a rejection mail. I sat back and changed my whole view on Science Fiction. It's not just about futuristic stuff. It's about scientifically plausible arguments. I then thought about how a drastic climate change can happen. I learned about global cooling and geoengineering. I learned about how a large volume of volcanic ash can contribute to a drop in global temperature. Then I applied this new knowledge in my writing. And the editors at Crossed Genres loved the story enough to publish it.

Ah, but here's a caveat: if writing pays your bills, you have no choice but to write every day even if it kills you. It's no longer about the creative process; it's your job. If you've committed you soul, and that of your immediate family members to writing full-time, you cannot afford to procrastinate even if you can only come up with a steaming pile of shit on that particular day. This doesn't mean you're selling out on Art and creativity. You do what you have to do to put food on the table and a roof over your head.

If you still haven't quit your day-job, or you're not on sabbatical leave to write, then don't get stressed if you don't write a thousand words every day. Move at your own pace, dance to your own rhythm, find that center where you can tap your well of creativity without draining it dry.

Just. Don't. Be. DELUSIONAL. If you're a writer who's on Twitter, you must already know about a particular author's meltdown after receiving a critical review. Learn the rules of grammar and of writing. Accept critiques with grace and dignity, and strive to improve.

But hey, this is another topic altogether. For a different time, perhaps.

 

Cheers.

But your story isn't Malaysian unless you use Manglish!

"Other people drive so you also want to drive-lah, yes or not?"

I'm told my lips purse when I'm agitated.

"Eh, don't so serious-lah. Learn to drive is like learn to smoke. Actually you don't want to smoke one. But you want to be someone who smoke. Because smoking is cool! Same thing-lah. Driving don't mean you got licence. So many people drive go no licence what! But driving means you got a car. And if you got a car, you are cool. Yes or not?"

"No-lah! Where got?" I say.

Of course no-lah where got. Because I'm not a cliche. I'm not so predictable that some Jinjang Joe driving instructor can decode me so easily. I'm complex and complicated and other polysyllabic words. No-lah, where got? C'mon, dude. Show him.

"It's a rite of passage."

"What?"

"Rite. Of. Passage. It's ... it's something that shows you've come of age.

Blank stare.

"It's the right thing to do for a kid my age."

Blank stare.

"Hai-yah, I'm in Form Five already! It's time to get a licence what!"

Instructor smiles. His teeth like an insult.

- Ivan Yeo; Clutch, Brake, Sellerator (Clutch, Brake, Sellerator and other stories, MPH Group Publishing 2010)

 

Depending how Mangled your Malaysian English is, you'll have different versions of Manglish. Above is an example that works. The protagonist actually uses proper English, but he uses Manglish to converse with the driving instructor, who either speaks poor English, or thinks that the protagonist speaks poor English, so he talks like a typical Malaysian Chinese to communicate with the protagonist more readily.

To confuse you even more, what if the protagonist is a Malay, talking and thinking in Malay, while the instructor is a Chinese who isn't fluent in Malay, just enough to use a broken language. Only thing is, the author uses a Universal Translator from Babylon 5 so that readers see the story in Standard English (and its broken equivalent).

Malaysians generally view Manglish with pride. It's uniquely Malaysian, this mixture of English-Malay-Chinese-Tamil. 1Malaysia la katakan (inside joke). To be honest, I mix English with Malay in my day-to-day conversations (occasionally even during formal presentations), plus some Cantonese, Tamil, Italian, or French, depending on the first curse word that pops into my head when the need arises. Not only that, my inflections differ when I use Manglish with a Malay (normal but fast), an Indian (predominantly blunt and rolling) and a Chinese (sharper, with a singsong quality characteristic of the Chinese language). You have no idea how mangled my English is.

But.

The conversations in my head are predominantly in Standard English (not British or American. Just Standard). I don't really think in Malay, even though I am one. Maybe it's because of the English books Mama used to buy for me when I was little. Maybe it's because of the English shows we watched on RTM2 and TV3, and the English-language radio stations we listened to as my siblings and I grew up. Whatever it may be, when I converse in proper English, my friends snicker and mimick my rolling Rs. They tell me I have a weird slang, not British, not American, but not Malaysian either. My Australian cousins say I don't have a slang. So there.

Purists abhor Manglish. They claim that Manglish is a pidgin language, and adulterated English. To a certain extent, I agree with them. If a presenter uses Manglish in front of an international audience, it shows how poor our grasp of Standard English is. In a world where a nation's standing is partly based on its people's mastery of English, Manglish reflects poorly on Malaysia as a whole. Even in formal discussions and presentations among local colleagues, one has to choose a common language and use its standard form. It's only proper and civil to do so, don't you agree?

Do I go as far as purists, seeking to destroy Manglish altogether? I'm not an extremist, so my answer is no. Manglish has its charms. It's uniquely Malaysian, as Singlish is to Singapore. Westerners take a while to understand and adapt, but once they do, quite a number also use Manglish (and even Mangled Malay).

To illustrate the points I have above, watch these videos of Paku & Belacan:

 

 

Hilarious, right? To be fair, they're talking in Malay, but they use the prescribed 'lah' and 'kan' and they also inject English phrases in their Malay conversations. This is exactly how Manglish sounds. Broken, weird, and at the same time endearing. I think almost all Malaysians will collapse on the floor with stitches on their flanks watching Paku & Belacan.

Here's the catch: I don't know if English users from other parts of the globe will appreciate them the same way. There's bound to be amusement beside the "What the hell are these jokers talking about?". Manglish becomes an insider language, a type of slang that not everyone can understand. Sure, a story written wholly in Manglish is distinctly Malaysian. But can it be international? I haven't tried, truth be told. I install the Universal Translator in all my stories. My characters are Malay, Chinese and/or Indian, using Malaysian versions of the languages, but readers see them as Standard English.

I used to get weirded out if I tried writing about Malaysian characters in English. Most Malaysians don't speak proper English, and to have them do so in my stories felt wrong, somehow. Unnatural, even. But I had reservations about using Manglish -- still do, actually. I ended up writing stories with Caucasian characters set in Western places I experienced through the television. I think I have a few examples somewhere in this blog. Needless to say, my storytelling suffered from a lack of solid imagery, when one of my strengths is descriptive writing.

One day, a couple of years ago, I heaved a mighty puff and declared, "Screw it!" Indeed. Screw it all. What if my Malaysian characters are actually using Malaysian languages, but I give readers the illusion of Standard English? They can talk and think in a perfectly proper manner, like they would with their first language.

Here are some examples:

 

Alias walked home with the Imam beside him. They almost always read the Quran at Alias’s house every Thursday night. With a flashlight guiding them, Alias talked about Melur’s pregnancy, and their plans for the unborn child. The Imam listened to the excited expecting father, only interjecting once in a while to ask a few questions.

“When is the baby due?”

“In a couple of weeks, Insya-Allah.”

The Imam nodded. “That’s good. Is Melur planning to give birth at home or at the hospital in town?”

“We’re not sure yet. Mak Timah comes regularly to check up on Melur, and she offered to be Melur’s midwife should she choose to give birth at home.”

“Don’t be fooled by her age and small frame. Timah is a good and highly experienced midwife. She’s much better than the young doctors in town.”

Alias chuckled and nodded.

The house was in complete darkness when they arrived. Melur would always leave the porch light on whenever Alias was out at night. Alias fished out his set of keys from his pocket as the Imam aimed the flashlight at the doorknob.

A wave of overpowering smells assaulted them the moment Alias opened the door. He recognized the unmistakable smell of blood, as his repair shop was downwind from the local butcher’s, but it was only an undertone against something much stronger.

“Birth-water,” muttered the Imam, sending Alias into panic.

“Melur! Sayang, where are you?”

Without bothering to turn on the light, Alias bounded toward the bedroom, where the smell was strongest. He fumbled for the light switch, but he soon wished he had not turned the light on.

- Blood Debt

 

 

My parents’ house was old even by the village standard. The wooden walls and stilts were dark with age, and the woven nipah roof looked like it was due for a fresh change. The windows were closed except for the ones in the main hall at the front of the house. A woman in a plain white baju kurung stood at the base of the staircase leading to a small patio in front of the main entrance. Her long black hair whipped about with the strong wind, but her face was mostly covered. When I approached her, she walked away. I was too tired to care.

“Assalamualaikum,” I called out. “Abah? Are you in?”

The front doors creaked open and my father stepped out, squinting to see me. He looked much older than when I last saw him. The years without my mother had not been kind on Abah. He was gaunt, his hair more white than grey, and his white T-shirt hung limp on his body when it used to bulge at the abdomen. He had more wrinkles on his tanned brown face, but he still looked the same. Stern but kind. I felt a stab of guilt for not coming back to see him even during Eid holidays, for not picking up the phone to call him.

“Ana? Rohana, is that you?”

“I told you, you need to wear glasses, Abah.” I walked up the steep stairs and took his hand to kiss it.

For a while he stood perfectly still and unresponsive, but before I could stand straight again, he rested his left hand at the back of my head. “Welcome home, Ana. Welcome home.” His voice was deep, but a higher-pitched crack broke through.

- Visions (Expanded Horizons, Fallen: An Anthology of Demonic Horror)

 

 

I seldom provide English names to the Malay words I use in my stories. I let the descriptions or the dialogues explain themselves. My group-mates at Writing Dot Com seem to approve of this, and a majority of them are Americans who have never been to Malaysia. I trust my storytelling to give readers a taste of Malaysia, instead of generic stories set in an exotic place. I may not use Manglish, but I showcase Malaysian sensibilities and tastes.

But am I against Manglish? Here's an excerpt of a novel-in-progress:

 

A small lady with wrinkled skin clinging to her bones shuffled from the depths of the shop. “You want lanterns? Got big lantern, got small lantern, got square lantern. Round lantern like outside also have.” She pointed at the general direction of the ones hanging on the street. Her fingers, deformed with arthritis, shook with fine tremors.

“No lanterns, Auntie. I’m looking for Madam Tai.”

“Madam Tai not here. You buy lantern?”

“I know she is here, behind this shop, under the trapdoor.”

The old woman stopped smiling and folded her hands back close to her chest. “You no buy lantern, you go somewhere else. Madam Tai not here.”

“Auntie. I need to speak with the Stormcaller. It’s about Jin-Wei.”

- Stormcaller

 

You may think that one character is talking in English, while the other uses Manglish. But wait. My protagonist is actually using Malay, while the Auntie, a Chinese lady with poor command over the language, uses a broken version. When I use the Universal Translator, the fragmented words the Auntie uses remain...well, fragmented.

This is my primary concern over using Manglish in my writing: I'm afraid that by doing so, I will limit my readership to Malaysians, and that my works will become niche stories, novelties from a third-world country that should be given special attention but not taken seriously. I'm paralyzed by this fear that I cannot write a story using Manglish, even though I've had esteemed literary agents at #askagent telling me to write great stories no matter the label. Great stories sell.

I've had Malaysian reviewers at Writing Dot Com complaining that my stories aren't really Malaysian, just Mat Salleh stories clothed in Malaysian settings.

Hah! Those of you who don't know what Mat Salleh means feel excluded, right? Annoyed, even? This is one of my concerns as well. I don't want to exclude a potentially wider audience. Mat Salleh is a Malaysian term for Caucasians, by the way.

Anyway, publishers seem to like my Malaysian stories. This is what Damien Broderick (acclaimed Science Fiction author and ex-fiction-editor of COSMOS Magazine) told me: "I like your writing, and the touches of (for an Australian readership) exoticism."

Funny thing is, so far only Malaysian writers (or those who are used to Malaysians) want Malaysian stories in Manglish in order to make a story Malaysian. Others are satisfied with the foreign setting and cultures.

Here's an interesting exchange I've had with a Malaysian writer based in London: CLICK HERE. I didn't find Zen's blog by Googling my own name, honest!

As it is, Malaysian-English stories are too sparse to make a healthy comparison. For the time being, I have to settle for an author's individual preference.

So what do you think? Is a story only truly Malaysian if written in Manglish?

 

I part with this Korean videoclip that has been given a misheard Manglish subtitle treatment:

 

Publishing your work

I wrote this as post responses at Sharon Bakar's blog:

 

Writing and publishing are two separate entities, and never let the thought of publishing tarnish your writing. If the reason you write fiction is for publication (works for hire are a different story, hear?), you’re likely to get disappointed. Publishing a story/novel is hard! But if you write for the love of it, because you have the urge to write, because you want to share your thoughts, your passion, you feel this undeniable elation every time you finish writing a story, especially if you think it’s good.

 

But it doesn’t mean it’s any good. I know writers are artists, and most artists are fragile creatures. But toughen up. Grow a thick skin. Do not expect only praises; be prepared to be criticized. If you cannot accept criticism, you’ll never grow as a writer and as a person. Don’t let your mother criticize your work; she’s bound to say she loves it, just as she loves you no matter how screwed up you are. If you can get a Trusted Reader, you’re lucky. If not, join a group. With the advent of the internet, this cannot be any easier. Websites like Writing.com are littered with writers and enthusiasts, but bear in mind that there as many good ones as there are bad ones. Join groups that will help you, but be prepared to give as much as you receive. Don’t be so kiasu. Polish your work. Write more. Edit other people’s work, and you’ll learn to edit yours.

 

Why Nicholas Sparks is my hero

A significant number of literary aficionados out there associate Nicholas Sparks with other writers like Stephen King, Dan Brown, Sidney Sheldon, and Danielle Steel (among others): writers whose works aren't even that great, and have recurring themes in their stories, but made bank, and end up in the bestsellers' list with every new novel. I like reading novels from all the writers above. People call their works 'popular/commercial fiction'; they are as good and delicious as fast food, but not exactly wholesome and nourishing. Personally, I think people are just jealous they're not as successful as these commercial fiction writers.

 

I do admit, each of the superstars I mentioned above have recurring themes: Stephen King writes speculative fiction with a strong horror element; Dan Brown writes conspiracy theories revolving around secret cults; Sidney Sheldon is always about fast-paced thrillers, while Danielle Steel will almost always write about upper class women and their upper class issues. Nicholas Sparks writes love stories. He gets irked whenever people call his works 'Romance'. In life, love and romance usually come hand-in-hand, if not always.