Friday, March 04, 2011

… there’s no success like failure

 On 12 February 2011, I woke up to two bits of very exciting news. I switched on my iPad first thing in the morning (at about 6.00am) and read that Hosni Mubarak was no longer president of Egypt.  It took a while for that elation to subside. Then, when I opened my Facebook, there was a congratulatory message from Susan about Rozlan’s 21 Immortals – it had been shortlisted for the (SEA/Pacific) Commonwealth Prize for best first book! Wahhh! This is the second Silverfish publication since 2009 to be on the shortlist of an international award. (Shih-Li Kow was the first, of course).

It has been a bumpy 10 years of publishing for Silverfish Books. I distinctly remember the euphoria when Silverfish New Writing 1 came out in December 2001. I was excited, but I guess not in the same way as the writers who had contributed. I remember the stern review by Antares in Kakiseni: ‘limp biscuits’ and ‘self-indulgent’ were the terms he used. Many, especially writers whose works were included, were outraged. Some of them urged me to respond or, at least, read the review, which I finally did about a week later. In truth, I was amused, more than anything else, by the review and comments, though some of them started getting personal and ugly towards the end. I thought about it for a while and a week later I sent Antares a private email saying that I did agree with his review, knew where he was coming from and that although I was not entirely happy with the book either, it was a start. I didn’t tell the writers anything, though, because I was still hopeful.

I continued with Silverfish New Writings 2 to 7 after that, producing one book a year. The formula was repeated, as was the response. Then, I decided enough was enough, and stopped the charade. Many (especially writers) were disappointed. Why, why why? Many asked, and still do. It was their only chance of getting published, they said. Some suggested that the reason for stopping the series was because it was not commercially viable anymore. While it is true that we sold far more SNW1s (maybe due to Amir’s foreword) than SNW7, that was not entirely correct. Fact is, I considered it a failure. Yes, seven books and more than 250 writers later, we were still not going anywhere; not one Malaysian writer went on to become an author (except for Matthew Thomas, but that is another story), which was the purpose of the exercise.
In 2008, I changed strategy; I decided to start the Silverfish Writing Programme and to work, intensely, with individual authors. Although I was confident that there are Malaysians who are serious about their writing,

I was nervous like hell, and for long periods I thought I’d fall flat on my face. Fast-forward to March 2011: from August 2008 to now, Silverfish has published five individual works of fiction (Rumaizah Abu Bakar’s collection of short stories, Liver Box, will be out this month). Hardly prolific, it is true. It works out to one book in six months, which is about right, considering the amount of work that has gone into each. We are a tiny publisher and we have to make every shot count; there is no point in putting out anything short of our (and our writer’s) best. And, besides, I had to be certain these are not authors who will be resting on their laurels, or wait twenty years for their next book. I had to know how hard they are willing to work.

Results count, talk doesn’t.

Publishing is a weird business. In none other will one meet so many weirdos and nut-jobs. One woman writer of a self-published book asked, “Why Harry Potter can sell, mine cannot?” Another guy came in with two essays he had written (that would have made a chapbook of about thirty pages) and insisted on using the Silverfish imprint, and stormed out after a long argument with me when I tried to explain why we didn't ‘rent’ out our imprint, saying, “You don’t think my work is good enough, isn’t that it?” Another gentleman who threw his manuscript on the table saying that it was a sure ‘best seller’, was so ‘oily’ I thought I’d have to shampoo the carpets and take a shower after he left. Yet another lady wanted me to rewrite all her stories. Many have called me names, accused me of not helping Malaysian writers like I said I would (particularly, when I reject their manuscripts – a mere coincidence, perhaps, although it does look like a pattern) and flamed me in their blogs. I guess it goes with the territory. I am a publisher not a school teacher. While the latter’s concern is (and should be) with those at the bottom of the class (since ‘the top students will take care of themselves’), a publisher can only spend his time on the best -- the rest will take care of themselves.

Still, publishing is such a buzz when you meet writers who are not afraid of hard work, not afraid to be the best, and not too thin-skinned to take criticism. Working with these future cultural torch bearers is such a pleasure; it makes up for all the weirdos.

I have several more manuscripts in my hard disk, but I will not be rushing them. They deserve my best, and that’s all I can give. An editor can make a good story better, but nothing can make a bad one good.

As the good minstrel said:     She knows there’s no success like failure
                                            And that failure’s no success at all

Raman Krishnan

(In response to Polly Szantor's query as to why Silverfish Blog postings have no bylines, I am signing this blog with my name.)