The most common Malaysian joke about translation is probably tahi suci, a literal rendering of ‘holy shit’ in Bahasa. Whether that was really the part of a cinema subtitle, or is merely another urban legend, is unclear. Another example often cited by cinema aficionados is tembak, tembak for ‘fire, fire’. Apparently, there were no guns involved in the story. (This problem is, by no means, confined to Malay. There are dozens of emails going around about Chinese translations. We were watching a presentation of the Beijing Opera at KLPac once. The organisers had helpfully decided to provide surtitles for the Cantonese illiterate, me included. Somewhere in the middle of the show, when an opera couple was frolicking in a make belief garden, a translation flashed, “... like butterflies fondling in the garden.” It was certainly a good rendering of the Chinese opera (for neophytes like me), but that translation simply took my breath away. I was speechless. “What ... what ... whaaat?”
Among the things we do to pay our rent, is the editing of works already translated from Malay to English. One of the earliest ones we did involved head-hunters in East Malaysia about 150 years ago. In one scene, the characters talk about a tiang belian, the ironwood main pillar of a longhouse, and this was translated as ‘purchased pillar’! Hah, you didn’t know that, did you? One hundred and fifty years ago, headhunters already had kedai runcit in the middle of the jungle selling pillars for longhouses! Then in another scene in the same novel, the hero is confronted by the leader of the hunters who beats and puffs his chest to show off kejantananya. This was translated as ‘beat his chest and shows off his manhood ...’ Flasher ... flasher!
Do translators even read over their work before submission, or do they not know any better?
Since then, we have insist on having the Malay original with us when we edit. Can you imagine this going into the international market in that form? We pick out dozens of such boo-boos in almost every book. How about this one we came across recently: “... kami cuma ada sepasang anak lembu, satu jantan dan satu betina ...” translated as “... we only have a pair of cow children, one male and one female ...”
I swear, time stood still at that point. Oh my God, it was so bad, it’s good. An Olympic gold medalist? You bet.
Then there is the prose. How is this for starters: ... mengikut tradisi tradisional yang amat berdradisi (repeated about a 150 times throughout the book). That is ‘ ... following traditional traditions that are extremely traditional’. (One might be tempted to think that this is a sure winner at the Olympics of prose until one sees the rest.) I am not a Malay scholar. I admit my knowledge of the language is purely functional, but can anyone out there tell me that this is good Malay prose? How does one edit stuff like that?
Then there are writers who love the ‘bunga-bunga’ stuff. How about this one: “The little clusters of sadness had become an island of sorrow that squeezed her in the narrows of her old age.”
Hahhh?
I can hear some people go, “Isn’t it so-oo beautiful? Like poetry?” Really? Like poetry? I am no poet, but if that isn’t an insult to the form, I don’t know what is. As far as I know, poetry lives on the economy of words, and the preciseness of their usage. This, on the other hand, is built on verbosity, diarrhoea; a writer carried away with his or her cleverness. This is the kind of stuff fifteen-year-old schoolgirls and schoolboys write to impress their friends and teachers. Anyway, does the writer even know what he or she is trying to say? As a reader, I certainly don’t. I could pretend, of course, so as not to look stupid. Read a few hundred of those and see what it does to your sanity.
This is not confined to Malay prose, either. Not too long ago there was a book that compared an earring falling into a cereal bowl to a meteor. One customer said that, when she came across this passage on page 90, she decided she had had enough. Another tossed his book across the room. This author went on to win the Man-Booker Prize for that year. There certainly is no accounting for taste.
So what is good prose? Is it merely a matter of personal taste, then? As a publisher, I have been asked that often. What do I look for in a manuscript? Okay, let me try:
Good prose is one that does not obstruct the flow of the story, nor take the attention away from it, nor bury it under a pile of verbose crap. It is like a good computer operating system: user-friendly, easy to use and elegant. It remains unobtrusively in the background, getting the job of telling a good story without screaming out for attention like an obnoxious five-year-old, “Mummy, mummy, look what I have done. See how clever I am.” Good prose is not about the cleverness of the writer. If the writer is clever, it will show. Every word, every phrase and every sentence will have to satisfy the conditions of necessity and sufficiency to earn its right to remain on the page.
Some might say I set the bar too high. After all, we are only Malaysians.
Banish that thought if you are planning to send me a manuscript.
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Why people write
I heard an interesting story recently about a boy who received a book from a girl he knew in school a few years ago (though they were not particularly close, according to him), but with whom he never really kept in touch, busy with his own life. How she obtained his address, he doesn’t know, but he thinks it was through friends of friends of friends. Anyway, the book was one of her own (self-published, or what, I do not know) with a personal message inside: I am a published author now, what about you?
Was it a challenge, a brag, revenge, or simply an inquiry -- nothing to say but, “What a day, how is your boyfriend?”
This brings us to 'why people write'. Although getting rich is still the prime motivator, fame, even if only as a dilettante, is a close second. Certainly, there are many who "simply must write”, though in most case the infatuation soon passes. Even so, this adds one more reason to the list. It is often said that everyone has a story within, to which others have, cynically, replied, “Perhaps, it should remain there.” Still, many want to write.
Obviously there are many forms of writing: for newspapers, magazines and websites, or, blogs, facebook, twitter, etc. But, the most curious of all is the need to get published -- to get a book out before one is sixteen, or twenty-one, or whenever, or just get one out. Is it the pull of immortality, knowing that a book is not transient, not ephemeral, that it has more than the one day lifespan of a newspaper story, or even a blog? Is it the burning desire to make the world a better place? To tell others how to lead their lives? Or is it about putting yourself out there, stark naked, for every one to gaze at, criticise and laugh. It is scary.
Why this strange affectation?
I read this on the internet: “Young people when asked what they want to do in life rarely give a sensible answer, firefighter, racing driver or rock star, spring to mind. However, an alarming number reply ‘a writer’ simply because they are under the illusion they could be creative in that profession or medium ... People believe writing requires no special talent, but is something humanity and human beings in general are able to do.”
Writing requires no special talent. Ah, how often have we met people who profess that. Then, there are those who consider themselves to be very special indeed (albeit, grievously misunderstood), even if they really aren’t, or are only marginally so. There are some who are certainly exceptionally talented but prefer (or remain trapped in) other things for various reasons. But, there are those who enjoy telling stories, spinning a good yarn, besides reading them. They make up stories for their children, their grandchildren, and for their friends and family.
This an extract from another article on the internet: “People start writing books as a way of putting their thoughts or ideas into words. They might also feel the urge to let others know what they are thinking. Some might be avid readers, who might want to venture out into the field of writing. There might also be people who want their ideology to be shared or sometimes even forced down on people's minds ...”
Whatever.
We know that many want to be writers, for whatever reason, but few succeed. Obviously, knowing what you want to do -- that is, write -- is insufficient. There is, obviously, the next step. How? How does one go about doing it? Writing classes and workshops? These will certainly top the list on many minds, and it is undeniable that one can learn a few ‘tricks of the trade’ there. But, there is also the danger of becoming serial course attendees. We know of many.
Actually the first ‘how’ is pretty basic. Don’t talk about writing, don’t think about writing, just write. Everyday. Every single day. If one wants to become a concert pianist, can one achieve one’s goal by not practising the scales for several hours everyday? For years? Answer this truthfully: when was the last time you wrote something creatively? When you were fifteen years old in school, trying to impress your friends? When you were ten, trying to impress your parents? Betty Edwards says that the average adult has the drawing skills of a twelve-year-old, because that was the last time they were allowed to draw creatively. Go figure.
The second is also very basic. Read. Yes, read, read, read and read. Not one book, not two books. Hundreds, thousands. In all subjects. By as many authors as you can. Far too many want to become authors after reading only one book. Can one become a concert pianist if one has listened only to one piece of music, or not at all?
The third ‘how’ is time. Yes, give it time. Say, you are 35 years old, and the last time you did a creative piece of work was when you were 15. And, the only thing you have done creatively since is fill up your income tax form. Now, you have twenty years of catching up to do. While it is not going to take you that long to write, you are not going to achieve anything much in the next two weeks, two months, or even two years.
Now that you have decided that you want to become a writer, and you know how you are going to go about becoming one, there still remains one major hurdle. Absolutely, the most important one. Why? Yes, why do you want to write? If your answer is fame and fortune, please join the queue -- there are only fifty million people ahead of you. And while you are at it, go buy yourself a lottery -- you will have a far better chance of winning the jackpot.
You write because you have to write. Why does Farish A Noor write? To become rich and famous? He writes because of the fire that burns within. Shih-Li Kow, too, writes to douse those same flames, though she prefers fiction. And Salleh ben Joned. And Karim Raslan ... they write because they think they have something to say, something important. They write about the world they want to live in. They write about their wishes, their dreams. They write about hope, even when they laugh about it, or cry in despair. Time and air and light and space have, really, nothing to do with it.
And finally, there is kiasu, afraid to lose, takut kalah. If you do something, there is a chance you may lose. If you do nothing, you cannot lose. Really? It this the Malaysian malaise, or is the reverse true? Takut menang. Are we so terrified of winning, of being relevant, that we can only subsume ourselves in mediocrity? If we want a world record, we choose a sport that no one else plays: tossing roti canai. If we want the world’s tallest building, we buy it.
Is takut menang what the badminton team suffers from?
Was it a challenge, a brag, revenge, or simply an inquiry -- nothing to say but, “What a day, how is your boyfriend?”
This brings us to 'why people write'. Although getting rich is still the prime motivator, fame, even if only as a dilettante, is a close second. Certainly, there are many who "simply must write”, though in most case the infatuation soon passes. Even so, this adds one more reason to the list. It is often said that everyone has a story within, to which others have, cynically, replied, “Perhaps, it should remain there.” Still, many want to write.
Obviously there are many forms of writing: for newspapers, magazines and websites, or, blogs, facebook, twitter, etc. But, the most curious of all is the need to get published -- to get a book out before one is sixteen, or twenty-one, or whenever, or just get one out. Is it the pull of immortality, knowing that a book is not transient, not ephemeral, that it has more than the one day lifespan of a newspaper story, or even a blog? Is it the burning desire to make the world a better place? To tell others how to lead their lives? Or is it about putting yourself out there, stark naked, for every one to gaze at, criticise and laugh. It is scary.
Why this strange affectation?
I read this on the internet: “Young people when asked what they want to do in life rarely give a sensible answer, firefighter, racing driver or rock star, spring to mind. However, an alarming number reply ‘a writer’ simply because they are under the illusion they could be creative in that profession or medium ... People believe writing requires no special talent, but is something humanity and human beings in general are able to do.”
Writing requires no special talent. Ah, how often have we met people who profess that. Then, there are those who consider themselves to be very special indeed (albeit, grievously misunderstood), even if they really aren’t, or are only marginally so. There are some who are certainly exceptionally talented but prefer (or remain trapped in) other things for various reasons. But, there are those who enjoy telling stories, spinning a good yarn, besides reading them. They make up stories for their children, their grandchildren, and for their friends and family.
This an extract from another article on the internet: “People start writing books as a way of putting their thoughts or ideas into words. They might also feel the urge to let others know what they are thinking. Some might be avid readers, who might want to venture out into the field of writing. There might also be people who want their ideology to be shared or sometimes even forced down on people's minds ...”
Whatever.
We know that many want to be writers, for whatever reason, but few succeed. Obviously, knowing what you want to do -- that is, write -- is insufficient. There is, obviously, the next step. How? How does one go about doing it? Writing classes and workshops? These will certainly top the list on many minds, and it is undeniable that one can learn a few ‘tricks of the trade’ there. But, there is also the danger of becoming serial course attendees. We know of many.
Actually the first ‘how’ is pretty basic. Don’t talk about writing, don’t think about writing, just write. Everyday. Every single day. If one wants to become a concert pianist, can one achieve one’s goal by not practising the scales for several hours everyday? For years? Answer this truthfully: when was the last time you wrote something creatively? When you were fifteen years old in school, trying to impress your friends? When you were ten, trying to impress your parents? Betty Edwards says that the average adult has the drawing skills of a twelve-year-old, because that was the last time they were allowed to draw creatively. Go figure.
The second is also very basic. Read. Yes, read, read, read and read. Not one book, not two books. Hundreds, thousands. In all subjects. By as many authors as you can. Far too many want to become authors after reading only one book. Can one become a concert pianist if one has listened only to one piece of music, or not at all?
The third ‘how’ is time. Yes, give it time. Say, you are 35 years old, and the last time you did a creative piece of work was when you were 15. And, the only thing you have done creatively since is fill up your income tax form. Now, you have twenty years of catching up to do. While it is not going to take you that long to write, you are not going to achieve anything much in the next two weeks, two months, or even two years.
Now that you have decided that you want to become a writer, and you know how you are going to go about becoming one, there still remains one major hurdle. Absolutely, the most important one. Why? Yes, why do you want to write? If your answer is fame and fortune, please join the queue -- there are only fifty million people ahead of you. And while you are at it, go buy yourself a lottery -- you will have a far better chance of winning the jackpot.
You write because you have to write. Why does Farish A Noor write? To become rich and famous? He writes because of the fire that burns within. Shih-Li Kow, too, writes to douse those same flames, though she prefers fiction. And Salleh ben Joned. And Karim Raslan ... they write because they think they have something to say, something important. They write about the world they want to live in. They write about their wishes, their dreams. They write about hope, even when they laugh about it, or cry in despair. Time and air and light and space have, really, nothing to do with it.
And finally, there is kiasu, afraid to lose, takut kalah. If you do something, there is a chance you may lose. If you do nothing, you cannot lose. Really? It this the Malaysian malaise, or is the reverse true? Takut menang. Are we so terrified of winning, of being relevant, that we can only subsume ourselves in mediocrity? If we want a world record, we choose a sport that no one else plays: tossing roti canai. If we want the world’s tallest building, we buy it.
Is takut menang what the badminton team suffers from?
Monday, April 05, 2010
The class system in literature
Some years ago, when we were still in Desa Seri Hartamas, we were roundly scolded by one of our customers for selling John Grisham titles in Silverfish Books and having the audacity to display the titles in front of the shop. "You are not that type of bookshop," we were told, quite emphatically. Our only response was a very sheepish, "Just trying, lah. Experiment, lah." (For the record, we couldn't sell even one of his books and had to return them all -- it was a failed experiment.)
So what type of bookshop are we? We did have an idea of the type of bookshop we wanted to be when we set it up in mid-1999, right in the middle of an economic (and political) turmoil. It was before the mega bookshop era, and Skoob Books was the only decent bookshop in town. It was a time when chain bookstores had a section for "mature readers", leading to much doubt, introspection and mental trauma. Do I qualify? What if the cashier asks questions? What if she can smell fear? What if they ask for a blood sample to determine my DNA to ascertain I am mature enough? What if I fail the test? What if my friends laugh at me?
Sigh. Life was so-oo difficult.
Anyway, we wanted a bookshop with books we'd want to read, a book boutique as it were, and our customers have made sure we did not deviate from the path. They helped shape the character of Silverfish Books as much as we did, maybe more. And, consequently, we have received both bouquets and brickbats. On the upside we have been called a 'real' bookshop, a 'good' bookshop and a ‘serious’ bookshop. And, on the downside we have been called snobs, hoity-toity and, also, serious.
Book selling has many similarities with the rag trade. There are the boutiques run by designers (or those who pretend to be) for those who care. Then there are the supermarkets selling every damn thing for the consumer. And, there are the reject shops selling overruns, defective merchandise or stuff that has been on shelves for a while, for those who care less, a lot less. Basically, this is true of bookshops too.
Ian Rankin is reported to have said recently that "crime novelists have been placed at the bottom of our literary hierarchy". He was, of course speaking of the British literary scene where poets are generally regarded to be on top, followed by playwrights, and then 'literary' novelists. And after that come people who write crime, thrillers and on espionage, followed by the bottom feeders who do the rest of the stuff which we need not go into.
Some of the class system certainly seems to have filtered down to the colonies. (We shall not go into details, for we fear the wrath.) Personally, we do not subscribe to it at all (no matter how others might view us). There are good books, and there are bad books. Period. We do not necessarily have to like a book to accept some will consider it good, and vice versa. We do have a bias for good prose, though. Poor or lazy writing is so off-putting.
So, we choose every book we put on our shelves, but we do wish we have more resources to buy much more titles we like, quite a lot more. Certainly, we don't want to order every title on the list. (I have written before about why a book is not a shoe.) Unfortunately, poetry and plays are the first to be sacrificed because they really don't sell very well.
There is a rumour out there that good books are hard to read, or that good books are boring. So far, we have little evidence of that. It is a fact, good books make you think. In fact, they mandate thinking. Now, if thinking is considered hard work, then that is another matter.
For the original article see The Guardian
So what type of bookshop are we? We did have an idea of the type of bookshop we wanted to be when we set it up in mid-1999, right in the middle of an economic (and political) turmoil. It was before the mega bookshop era, and Skoob Books was the only decent bookshop in town. It was a time when chain bookstores had a section for "mature readers", leading to much doubt, introspection and mental trauma. Do I qualify? What if the cashier asks questions? What if she can smell fear? What if they ask for a blood sample to determine my DNA to ascertain I am mature enough? What if I fail the test? What if my friends laugh at me?
Sigh. Life was so-oo difficult.
Anyway, we wanted a bookshop with books we'd want to read, a book boutique as it were, and our customers have made sure we did not deviate from the path. They helped shape the character of Silverfish Books as much as we did, maybe more. And, consequently, we have received both bouquets and brickbats. On the upside we have been called a 'real' bookshop, a 'good' bookshop and a ‘serious’ bookshop. And, on the downside we have been called snobs, hoity-toity and, also, serious.
Book selling has many similarities with the rag trade. There are the boutiques run by designers (or those who pretend to be) for those who care. Then there are the supermarkets selling every damn thing for the consumer. And, there are the reject shops selling overruns, defective merchandise or stuff that has been on shelves for a while, for those who care less, a lot less. Basically, this is true of bookshops too.
Ian Rankin is reported to have said recently that "crime novelists have been placed at the bottom of our literary hierarchy". He was, of course speaking of the British literary scene where poets are generally regarded to be on top, followed by playwrights, and then 'literary' novelists. And after that come people who write crime, thrillers and on espionage, followed by the bottom feeders who do the rest of the stuff which we need not go into.
Some of the class system certainly seems to have filtered down to the colonies. (We shall not go into details, for we fear the wrath.) Personally, we do not subscribe to it at all (no matter how others might view us). There are good books, and there are bad books. Period. We do not necessarily have to like a book to accept some will consider it good, and vice versa. We do have a bias for good prose, though. Poor or lazy writing is so off-putting.
So, we choose every book we put on our shelves, but we do wish we have more resources to buy much more titles we like, quite a lot more. Certainly, we don't want to order every title on the list. (I have written before about why a book is not a shoe.) Unfortunately, poetry and plays are the first to be sacrificed because they really don't sell very well.
There is a rumour out there that good books are hard to read, or that good books are boring. So far, we have little evidence of that. It is a fact, good books make you think. In fact, they mandate thinking. Now, if thinking is considered hard work, then that is another matter.
For the original article see The Guardian
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
How to promote your book
Now you have written this masterpiece, and it has been published. But it is not selling the way you think it should. What do you do? A writer was in the shop just the other day asking us about how to promote his book. I told him to write another one.
Well, as most writers know, the most difficult part is not writing the book, but selling it. If you have a publisher, you could well blame them and their distributor, call them names, tell everybody what a useless bunch of wankers they are, that you have been to this great bookshop in the city and they don't even have it on their shelves, that you have 'had it' with them, and how your friend in Timbuktu, Ulu Kelantan wants a copy but can't find it in his local bookshops, etc, etc. (But while you are at it, don't tell your friends that the same publisher has another book by another writer that is selling by truckloads. It will not be good for your ego.)
If you are self-published, another set of problems emerges. After walking up and down several flights of steps, you will find out very quickly how difficult it is to even get your books on the shelves of the major stores, and how almost impossible it is to get a review, or even a mention, in the newspapers. (Having said that, I was indeed pleasantly surprised to see 4 -- yes, four -- Malaysian books reviewed last Sunday in StarMag, the Sunday Star pullout. Let us hope it is a sign of things to come.)
So why don't some bookstores stock your book? There are a few reasons, and all of them have to do with economics. The first reason is shelf space: they would rather stock a book that moves, and in large quantities too, than one that does not. They will stock a limited quantity of your books for a short while to see how it does, before they decide if the space could be made more useful, or return your book to the publisher. The second is demography: that is, the manager of the store does not think your book will do well at certain locations, whatever you might think. Thirdly, the book you are still flogging was first published twenty years ago (or thereabouts). (At this point, I am often indignantly confronted with the assertion that Harper Lee wrote only one book and it is still being sold, to which my reply would normally be in the form of a question: are you Harper Lee? That works wonders as a reality-check, try it.)
As for why newspapers and magazines don't review local books, there could be several reasons. For one, the editors could decide that readers would prefer the 29th centre-spread feature of Harry Potter's latest, than one about your book. Two, they cannot find anyone willing to, actually, read and review your book. (This may be due to many reasons: you are not glamorous enough, the pay-per-review is too little,or there are too few reviewers and they prefer to read a 'more interesting' imported book rather than yours.) Thirdly, given our small market size, local publishers generally cannot afford to buy 'adverts' in the periodicals, so any concession given is considered charity, unless it helps circulation. (Many may well argue that the potential of the latter has been grossly under-sold.)
Coming back to my advice to the writer to come out with his second book, the reasons are simple. First, it is for name recognition: when you have a new book out, bookshops and readers will also look at your past work. Secondly, you write because you have to write, and if it turns out to be successful, be surprised, genuinely surprised. (No one was more surprised about being short-listed for the Frank O'Connor Award than Shih-Li herself.)
And finally, I remember reading an interview with KS Maniam in a newspaper several years ago: talking about writing is not writing, thinking about writing is not writing, writing is writing.
So, there.
(BTW, Shih-Li will be in Cork by now. Her reading is on the 17th. I am going to miss it though, because I will be travelling on that day. The awards event will be on Sunday, 20th of Sept. I will be taking my camera along. Hope I remember to take pictures.)
Well, as most writers know, the most difficult part is not writing the book, but selling it. If you have a publisher, you could well blame them and their distributor, call them names, tell everybody what a useless bunch of wankers they are, that you have been to this great bookshop in the city and they don't even have it on their shelves, that you have 'had it' with them, and how your friend in Timbuktu, Ulu Kelantan wants a copy but can't find it in his local bookshops, etc, etc. (But while you are at it, don't tell your friends that the same publisher has another book by another writer that is selling by truckloads. It will not be good for your ego.)
If you are self-published, another set of problems emerges. After walking up and down several flights of steps, you will find out very quickly how difficult it is to even get your books on the shelves of the major stores, and how almost impossible it is to get a review, or even a mention, in the newspapers. (Having said that, I was indeed pleasantly surprised to see 4 -- yes, four -- Malaysian books reviewed last Sunday in StarMag, the Sunday Star pullout. Let us hope it is a sign of things to come.)
So why don't some bookstores stock your book? There are a few reasons, and all of them have to do with economics. The first reason is shelf space: they would rather stock a book that moves, and in large quantities too, than one that does not. They will stock a limited quantity of your books for a short while to see how it does, before they decide if the space could be made more useful, or return your book to the publisher. The second is demography: that is, the manager of the store does not think your book will do well at certain locations, whatever you might think. Thirdly, the book you are still flogging was first published twenty years ago (or thereabouts). (At this point, I am often indignantly confronted with the assertion that Harper Lee wrote only one book and it is still being sold, to which my reply would normally be in the form of a question: are you Harper Lee? That works wonders as a reality-check, try it.)
As for why newspapers and magazines don't review local books, there could be several reasons. For one, the editors could decide that readers would prefer the 29th centre-spread feature of Harry Potter's latest, than one about your book. Two, they cannot find anyone willing to, actually, read and review your book. (This may be due to many reasons: you are not glamorous enough, the pay-per-review is too little,or there are too few reviewers and they prefer to read a 'more interesting' imported book rather than yours.) Thirdly, given our small market size, local publishers generally cannot afford to buy 'adverts' in the periodicals, so any concession given is considered charity, unless it helps circulation. (Many may well argue that the potential of the latter has been grossly under-sold.)
Coming back to my advice to the writer to come out with his second book, the reasons are simple. First, it is for name recognition: when you have a new book out, bookshops and readers will also look at your past work. Secondly, you write because you have to write, and if it turns out to be successful, be surprised, genuinely surprised. (No one was more surprised about being short-listed for the Frank O'Connor Award than Shih-Li herself.)
And finally, I remember reading an interview with KS Maniam in a newspaper several years ago: talking about writing is not writing, thinking about writing is not writing, writing is writing.
So, there.
(BTW, Shih-Li will be in Cork by now. Her reading is on the 17th. I am going to miss it though, because I will be travelling on that day. The awards event will be on Sunday, 20th of Sept. I will be taking my camera along. Hope I remember to take pictures.)
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Creative Writing Software Programmes
Many would have heard of these and wondered about the big deal, being quite satisfied with their trusty word processor. After all, word processors nowadays can do almost anything, except make coffee. But therein lies the problem; all the bells and whistles can get so distracting. If you are writing a relatively short piece that you have already thought through, it works just as well on a word processor. But if you have a more complicated piece with many timelines, characters, subplots and scenes, Microsoft Word can make it a right royal mess although all the tools you need are actually available in the programme. Hence, the Creative Writing Programmes where you can stash away all your research material (be they notes, websites, photographs, videos, or whatever) just a click away. You can switch from one scene to another at the other end of a novel for consistency and compare facts, all in one click. Or even view them side-by-side (or top and bottom), or write in full screen mode for minimum distraction. And then, after everything is done, one can format the whole thing in a fancy word processor.
MacWorld reports that Ulysses 2 writing program has just been released. I have never used Ulysses -- I have only taken Scrivener, Z-Write and Writers' Cafe for a spin -- so I can't say much about how good it is, but it appears to be worth a try-out at least. It comes with a full 60-day trial. (The full licence costs around RM200.00 -- a bit pricey compared to some of the others.) The report says that it sports a brand new interface, as well as new project templates, project-wide search and replace, enhancements and improvements to the browser and editor to include the ability to add bookmarks, wider export format support, and more. According to the Ulysses 2 website: "Whether you're a blogger, a poet or a published novelist: Ulysses 2.0 is the definite package for all your creative writing needs. Brainstorm, draft, revise, submit; distraction-free and fully focused. No strings or styles attached." But, it is a Mac-only programme
Literature and Latte's Scrivener is my favourite. Says the website: " Writing a book, short story or research paper is about more than hammering away at the keys until it's done. Research, scrawling fragmentary ideas that don't seem to fit anywhere yet, collecting faded photos from old newspapers, shuffling index cards to find that elusive structure -- most writing software is only fired up after much of the hard work is already done. Enter Scrivener: writing software that stays with you from that first, unformed idea all the way through to the first - or even final - draft. Outline and structure your ideas. Take notes. Storyboard your masterpiece using a powerful virtual corkboard. View research while you write. Track themes using keywords. Dynamically combine multiple scenes into a single text just to see how they fit. Scrivener has already been enthusiastically adopted by best-selling novelists, academics, lawyers, scriptwriters and journalists - whatever you write, grow your ideas in style." It cost RM140.00 and does everything it says, and comes with a 30-day free trial. Again, a Mac-only programme.
Before readers start wondering if Windows and the word 'creative' can exist in the same sentence, let me introduce Writers' Cafe.
"Writer's Cafe is a set of power tools for all fiction writers, whether experienced or just starting out. The heart of Writer's Cafe is StoryLines, a powerful but simple to use story development tool that dramatically accelerates the creation and structuring of your novel or screenplay.
"Designed by published novelist Harriet Smart, Writer's Café also includes a notebook, journal, research organiser, pinboard, inspirational quotations, daily writing tips, writing exercises, name generation, and a 60-page e-book, Fiction: The Facts, distilling 20 years of writing experience."
I have given Writer's Cafe a spin as well. While I can see where they are coming from, it does not address the way I think or write. I find it a bit too structured for my comfort, but I am sure others will find far more potential in it than I did. It is available as a demo download with no time limit on it, but with a few key features defeated. The licence costs approximately RM160.00 and is available for Windows, Macs and Linux.
Z-Write costs about RM120.00 and is another Mac-only programme. The website says: " Z-Write is a unique word processor designed for creative writers. In the process of writing a story, writers tend to create dozens or even hundreds of pages of notes, character bios, rewrites, reminders, and bits of research info. Organizing all that material within the linear structure of a traditional word processor is awkward at best." All that is true, but when compared with the rest, it is pretty basic. Try it for yourself. It comes with a two-week trial, after which it reverts to a 'demo' mode.
Bottom-line: if you are serious about writing, perhaps you'd like to give these creative writing programmes a spin. It is quite an enjoyable experience.
MacWorld reports that Ulysses 2 writing program has just been released. I have never used Ulysses -- I have only taken Scrivener, Z-Write and Writers' Cafe for a spin -- so I can't say much about how good it is, but it appears to be worth a try-out at least. It comes with a full 60-day trial. (The full licence costs around RM200.00 -- a bit pricey compared to some of the others.) The report says that it sports a brand new interface, as well as new project templates, project-wide search and replace, enhancements and improvements to the browser and editor to include the ability to add bookmarks, wider export format support, and more. According to the Ulysses 2 website: "Whether you're a blogger, a poet or a published novelist: Ulysses 2.0 is the definite package for all your creative writing needs. Brainstorm, draft, revise, submit; distraction-free and fully focused. No strings or styles attached." But, it is a Mac-only programmeLiterature and Latte's Scrivener is my favourite. Says the website: " Writing a book, short story or research paper is about more than hammering away at the keys until it's done. Research, scrawling fragmentary ideas that don't seem to fit anywhere yet, collecting faded photos from old newspapers, shuffling index cards to find that elusive structure -- most writing software is only fired up after much of the hard work is already done. Enter Scrivener: writing software that stays with you from that first, unformed idea all the way through to the first - or even final - draft. Outline and structure your ideas. Take notes. Storyboard your masterpiece using a powerful virtual corkboard. View research while you write. Track themes using keywords. Dynamically combine multiple scenes into a single text just to see how they fit. Scrivener has already been enthusiastically adopted by best-selling novelists, academics, lawyers, scriptwriters and journalists - whatever you write, grow your ideas in style." It cost RM140.00 and does everything it says, and comes with a 30-day free trial. Again, a Mac-only programme.Before readers start wondering if Windows and the word 'creative' can exist in the same sentence, let me introduce Writers' Cafe.
"Writer's Cafe is a set of power tools for all fiction writers, whether experienced or just starting out. The heart of Writer's Cafe is StoryLines, a powerful but simple to use story development tool that dramatically accelerates the creation and structuring of your novel or screenplay."Designed by published novelist Harriet Smart, Writer's Café also includes a notebook, journal, research organiser, pinboard, inspirational quotations, daily writing tips, writing exercises, name generation, and a 60-page e-book, Fiction: The Facts, distilling 20 years of writing experience."
I have given Writer's Cafe a spin as well. While I can see where they are coming from, it does not address the way I think or write. I find it a bit too structured for my comfort, but I am sure others will find far more potential in it than I did. It is available as a demo download with no time limit on it, but with a few key features defeated. The licence costs approximately RM160.00 and is available for Windows, Macs and Linux.
Z-Write costs about RM120.00 and is another Mac-only programme. The website says: " Z-Write is a unique word processor designed for creative writers. In the process of writing a story, writers tend to create dozens or even hundreds of pages of notes, character bios, rewrites, reminders, and bits of research info. Organizing all that material within the linear structure of a traditional word processor is awkward at best." All that is true, but when compared with the rest, it is pretty basic. Try it for yourself. It comes with a two-week trial, after which it reverts to a 'demo' mode.Bottom-line: if you are serious about writing, perhaps you'd like to give these creative writing programmes a spin. It is quite an enjoyable experience.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Tools for Writing
Many people, when they talk about wanting to learn creative writing, basically want the magic pill. They don't believe it when you say that there is no such thing. They will think you are trying to keep it for yourself. If there was e a magic pill for writing, some of us will get quite seriously rich.Roy Peter Clark's blog, PoynterOnline, offers toolbox, maybe the next best thing to a magic pill, with plenty of discussions on provides tools for your writing reporting, writing & editing. He also has a book, Writing Tools: 50 Essential Strategies for Every Writer. Not quite 5 easy solutions to writing but 50. In case, you hate reading, there are podcasts too.
Fifty Writing Tools is divided into four part: Nuts and Bolts, Special Effects, Blueprints and Useful Habits. The first advice is: Begin sentences with subjects and verbs -- Make meaning early, then let weaker elements branch to the right. Interestingly, isn't that what we were taught in primary school, but soon forgot in our 'hurry' to become clever?
"It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen." George Orwell -- 1984. What an incredible opening sentence! With no phoenixes or dragons, no dark and stormy nights, it was straight to the point, shocking to the core, yet simple. But contrary to the advice above, he did not simply let the weaker elements drift to the right. He positioned his sledgehammer there. (Of course, no one knows how many times he rewrote that. Our own Salleh ben Joned, laboured for three months over just one word! But that is another story.)
Many of these would be classified under commonsense, but one would equally disagree with others. Here are ten -- naturally, many of there rules are to be broken, but not for beginners (but if you think you are a genius without ever having written a book, then good luck to you):
. Activate you verbs -- Strong verbs create action, save words, and reveal the players.
. Be passive-aggressive -- Use passive verbs to showcase the "victim" of action.
. Order words for emphasis -- Place strong words at the beginning and at the end, and so on.
. Set the pace with sentence length -- Vary sentences to influence the reader's speed.
. Tune your voice -- Read drafts aloud.
. Learn the difference between reports and stories -- Use one to render information, the other to render experience.
. Use dialogue as a form of action -- Dialogue advances narrative; quotes delay it.
. Write from different cinematic angles -- Turn your notebook into a "camera."
. Prefer archetypes to stereotypes -- Use subtle symbols, not crashing cymbals.
. Recruit your own support group -- Create a corps of helpers for feedback.
Unfortunately, I feel he has left out the most important advice of all: Read, read, read and read some more. (Or does that come under the writing workbench rule?).
Poynter
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
A year that was
No, I am not going to write about what an absolute annus horribilis the year two-thousand and eight was, enough people are doing that. I am going to confine myself to book matters, though some of the former could creep in.
Shelf Awarness puts it succinctly: "Now may be a good time to get back to basics and do business together again if we all want to survive. Mass merchants will likely cut back on book sections at the first signs of under performance ... (but) Bookstores will stay the course. As the restructuring goes forward, we can only hope that publishers will return to their roots and work with booksellers to enhance backlist opportunities and develop new authors."
2008 was a year with no Harry Potter circus; that has run its course. So, there was really no big book to carry the year and give the book industry an artificial high. In fact there were hardly any big books at all, except for Salman Rushdie's The Enchantress of Florence, which I thought was one of the best books he has written in a long time, surely one of his most readable. Yes, some will quibble that it does not have the stature of his Midnight's Children (that was more than a quarter of a century ago, please move on). Some will complain about the way he is liberal with historical truths. So was Homer. It is a good story, a fun read.
As for Aravind Adiga's The White Tiger, my current plans are to give it a miss -- "the story of two Indias" is such a cliche. Why are Indian writers (apart from Naipaul and Rushdie) not allowed to simply tell a story? But, Amitav Ghosh's Sea of Poppies is still on my list. I am not interested in the rest. It was a pretty slow year for fiction. I am waiting for some translated works of Le Clezio to come out. Meanwhile, I will catch up on the classics.
In other international news, we all know about Borders selling off their stores in Australia, New Zealand and Singapore. In UK we have just heard that Euler Hermes has withdrawn credit insurance to their suppliers, which could mean that they will have to pay cash upfront for their merchandise. It appears they are a bit shaky in the US too.
In another story, Bertrams, one of the bigger book wholesalers in the UK, is up for sale after the demise of their parent company, Woolworth. Expect a major shake-up in the book industry next year. But Amazon.com did well over Christmas.
An industry shake-up is surely on the cards now. The book had been commoditised to absurdity, mass market merchants only understands what turns over or, in the bookseller language, "sells through". Books could be beans for all they cared. Perhaps now the real bookshops (indies or otherwise) will return to the fore, and publishers will focus on real books.
Shelf Awarness puts it succinctly: "Now may be a good time to get back to basics and do business together again if we all want to survive. Mass merchants will likely cut back on book sections at the first signs of under performance ... (but) Bookstores will stay the course. As the restructuring goes forward, we can only hope that publishers will return to their roots and work with booksellers to enhance backlist opportunities and develop new authors."
It has been a very memorable year.
Happy New Year, 2009.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Never let facts get in the way
(A version of this story appered in the Malay Mail on the the 6th of November.)
The French are disputing English accounts of the Battle of Agincourt of 1415. The English version has 6000 men (mainly archers) defeating a French Army of 30,000. Not quite, say the French, backing their argument with historical evidence. They are probably right, but then they are French.Shakespeare immortalised that battle in 1599 in Henry V; it was too romantic not to. The battle has been described as England's 'finest hour'. But it was the bard who fire up the imagination of the people with his version of the story, truth be damned, and brought new glory to distant history. Shakespeare was no prophet, nor saint, nor historian, nor anything. He was only a storyteller, but helluva good one. He was at the (or was the) epicentre of the English renaissance and, probably, indirectly responsible for 400 years of world domination by his countrymen. Well, like journalists like to say: never let the facts get in the way of a good story.
It is not news that, of all the creatures in the world, we are the strangest. We eat and sleep and breathe and so on like all the rest, but one thing we do that none of the other creatures (are known to) do, is tell stories to one another. We need to tell and listen to stories every waking moment of our lives, be it on the telephone, radio, television, movies, newspapers, magazines, books or at the tea shop. We gossip, blog, report, write, dance, sing, and act out stories. We can never stop even if we try. We can go without a few meals. (During famines they will not have much to eat but they will keep alive by telling one another stories of hope, of spirit, of faith.) Our stories will be true, false, good, bad, exhilarating, depressing, funny, sad, tragic, magic ... anything. Most will be forgotten, but some will stick and become part of our culture, our ethos, our claim to human-ness. (I will leave the 'what, how, where and why' arguments to the anthropologists.)
There was a story in the newspapers not too long ago from India about the Sethusamudram Shipping Canal Project. Adam's Bridge (or Rama's Bridge or Rama Sethu) is a shallow chain of limestone shoals between India and Sri Lanka. The Indian government approved the project in 2001, but to date no work has started due to economic, environmental and religious arguments. The government can use all their scientists and argue until they are blue in the face, but they are not going to win the last one. According to the Ramayana, Hanuman and his monkey hoard built it. Period. Some researchers say that Rama was a god worshipped in Babylon and Egypt, and that he is mentioned in the Epic of Gilgamesh, that by the time Valmiki wrote down his version 2500 years ago, his story was already several centuries (if not millenniums) old. Of the over 300 known versions of the Ramayana, Valmiki's is the most popular and the most romantic. What can mere logic do in the face of such a good story, of such a romance?
Storytelling is such a potent force that it is not surprising that forces have existed throughout history to control it. During the Inquisition, the clergy demanded absolute control of the media, and literacy was actually illegal. People were put to death in the most terrible ways if it was found out (or suspected, or rumoured) that they could read. The church controlled the Word and all interpretations of it absolutely. The people of Europe paid a horrifying price for freedom of information. In ancient India, it was the Brahmins, who started of as minstrels singing the praises of their kings, who saw the power in the monopoly of knowledge. The myth of the battle between 300 Spartans against the Persians still influences East-West relationships and dialogue, that people of the East are an inferior people.
It is not surprising that many rich countries 'steal' cultural talent from poorer ones, and not just for tourism promotion. Stories make nations, and nations make stories. They are part of the blood that runs through our veins; they live in our genes; they create our memes. We may not like some of it but the alternatives, of letting one small group decide for everyone, for a one size fits all solution, are frightening.
Let's leave the Middle Ages where we left it, 500 years ago.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Two good things
It is beginning to get a little down beat living in this city these days, what with exploding maidens, disappearing doctors and PIs, astonishing incompetence, and unbelievable hubris. It is almost as if the Chinese curse 'may you live in interesting times' is haunting us. It did arouse my baser instincts in the beginning but I don't feel that way anymore. To paraphrase one expat who came into the shop recently: "What's going on here? There are so many major issues all over the world and people here are only interested on who did what to whom." I had to concede that this is a bizarre country.
However, I am elated by two bits of pretty exciting news (for me at any rate) that came my way in the last week. The first is the publication of the book Tales from the Court by Matthew Thomas. (I'll come to the next one later.) So, what's so exciting about it, you may ask? Another writer, another book. Only that Matthew Thomas is sixty-two years old and has never written creatively before (except for legal briefs). His short story appeared in Silverfish New Writing 5. As far as I know, he is the only Silverfish New Writer from Malaysia, out of more than 150, to have come up with his own volume of short stories in English (I am not counting those who have recycled their previously published stories), and ironically it has to happen after we decided to end the series.
I didn't know that he had never written before when he asked me if I liked his story in SNW5. He asked if he could send me some more. I said, sure. I had almost given him up as 'another one of those' when he sent me his manuscript some two years later. I was delighted. Later when I found out that he had just finished writing them whilst engaged in his full-time legal practice, and that these were not stories he had written years ago, I was gobsmacked. He was certainly not going to spend the next ten years congratulating himself and milking the glory from the one short story in SNW5. And Matthew is no one-hit-wonder. He is already working on his next book.
As Mohamed M Keshavjee, his very good friend, says in the afterword to the book, 'In this book, all ... characters talk to us. The author captures the very essence of their being ... and their little games in life ...' In Tales from the Court are little anecdotes of little people, much like in the works of RK Narayan or Jorge Amado, and not grand narratives. This is a book by Malaysians for Malaysians. Matthew refuses to pander.
Tales from the Court is the second book in Silverfish Books' Malaysian Literature in English series. And Malaysian literature, it is. This is what we hope to be doing from now on: complete books by Malaysian authors. Currently we have six more in our line-up. Yes, we are not prolific. We prefer to take our time, work with authors and produce books they can live with, and we can live with. How many more Matthew Thomases are there out there? Please raise your right hand and step forward. We need more of you.
Our aims are modest -- about a dozen or more Malaysian authors producing good books consistently should boost the industry. Win prizes? Why not? A Commonwealth Writers' Prize for the South East Asia and South Pacific region is certainly not inconceivable. The Booker? Okay, I am going to let fly on something that I have kept bottled up for a while now:
Page 90, Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai, Atlantic Monthly Press, 2005.
'Bomnabhai's wife's earlobes, lengthened with the weight of South African diamonds, so great, so heavy, that one day, from one ear, an earring ripped through, a meteor disappearing with a bloody clonk into her bowl of srikhand.'
Earring? Meteor? If ever there was a schoolgirl simile ... Okay, give her an 'A' for her composition ... clever Form Five schoolgirl ... but a Man Booker? What were they thinking? Is this the epitome of English prose today? (I can imagine the cattiness in the room after the results were announced and she went up to receive her prize ...)
There is more. The book is full of it -- silly similes and stereotypes. (Is there some kind of competition going on, about who can come up with the silliest?)
Anyone surprised why I cannot read books like this anymore? VS Naipaul got it right: '... Indian Writers in English (IWE's) are responsible for creating a body of literature in exile mainly written by writers and read by readers living abroad ...' Yes I know, European and American readers like this shit, it confirms their stereotype and ignorance, and writers make a lot of money. But, again ... a Man Booker? If anyone wrote that at a Silverfish Writing Programme, I will tell them to 'go and take a shower'. (BTW, a customer told us that this book is in the chick-lit section in one major bookshop. Padan muka.)
Gosh, I am making myself all depressed again.
So, while we look forward to rubbishing this year's winner let's go on to the next good thing that happened to me recently. I got my Malaysian International Passport renewed in one hour and fifty-five minutes. Yes, you read that right. They promise a two-hour service with the new kiosks at Pusat Bandar Damansara. I had to test it. It works. Oh boy, does it work. Finally, something in this country works as promised. No form filling, nothing. One passport photo, photocopy of IC, original IC, old passport, two minutes in front of the touch-screen kiosk, and collect your new passport two hours later. Guess what? No queues.
Cool.
However, I am elated by two bits of pretty exciting news (for me at any rate) that came my way in the last week. The first is the publication of the book Tales from the Court by Matthew Thomas. (I'll come to the next one later.) So, what's so exciting about it, you may ask? Another writer, another book. Only that Matthew Thomas is sixty-two years old and has never written creatively before (except for legal briefs). His short story appeared in Silverfish New Writing 5. As far as I know, he is the only Silverfish New Writer from Malaysia, out of more than 150, to have come up with his own volume of short stories in English (I am not counting those who have recycled their previously published stories), and ironically it has to happen after we decided to end the series.
I didn't know that he had never written before when he asked me if I liked his story in SNW5. He asked if he could send me some more. I said, sure. I had almost given him up as 'another one of those' when he sent me his manuscript some two years later. I was delighted. Later when I found out that he had just finished writing them whilst engaged in his full-time legal practice, and that these were not stories he had written years ago, I was gobsmacked. He was certainly not going to spend the next ten years congratulating himself and milking the glory from the one short story in SNW5. And Matthew is no one-hit-wonder. He is already working on his next book.
As Mohamed M Keshavjee, his very good friend, says in the afterword to the book, 'In this book, all ... characters talk to us. The author captures the very essence of their being ... and their little games in life ...' In Tales from the Court are little anecdotes of little people, much like in the works of RK Narayan or Jorge Amado, and not grand narratives. This is a book by Malaysians for Malaysians. Matthew refuses to pander.
Tales from the Court is the second book in Silverfish Books' Malaysian Literature in English series. And Malaysian literature, it is. This is what we hope to be doing from now on: complete books by Malaysian authors. Currently we have six more in our line-up. Yes, we are not prolific. We prefer to take our time, work with authors and produce books they can live with, and we can live with. How many more Matthew Thomases are there out there? Please raise your right hand and step forward. We need more of you.
Our aims are modest -- about a dozen or more Malaysian authors producing good books consistently should boost the industry. Win prizes? Why not? A Commonwealth Writers' Prize for the South East Asia and South Pacific region is certainly not inconceivable. The Booker? Okay, I am going to let fly on something that I have kept bottled up for a while now:
Page 90, Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai, Atlantic Monthly Press, 2005.
'Bomnabhai's wife's earlobes, lengthened with the weight of South African diamonds, so great, so heavy, that one day, from one ear, an earring ripped through, a meteor disappearing with a bloody clonk into her bowl of srikhand.'
Earring? Meteor? If ever there was a schoolgirl simile ... Okay, give her an 'A' for her composition ... clever Form Five schoolgirl ... but a Man Booker? What were they thinking? Is this the epitome of English prose today? (I can imagine the cattiness in the room after the results were announced and she went up to receive her prize ...)
There is more. The book is full of it -- silly similes and stereotypes. (Is there some kind of competition going on, about who can come up with the silliest?)
Anyone surprised why I cannot read books like this anymore? VS Naipaul got it right: '... Indian Writers in English (IWE's) are responsible for creating a body of literature in exile mainly written by writers and read by readers living abroad ...' Yes I know, European and American readers like this shit, it confirms their stereotype and ignorance, and writers make a lot of money. But, again ... a Man Booker? If anyone wrote that at a Silverfish Writing Programme, I will tell them to 'go and take a shower'. (BTW, a customer told us that this book is in the chick-lit section in one major bookshop. Padan muka.)
Gosh, I am making myself all depressed again.
So, while we look forward to rubbishing this year's winner let's go on to the next good thing that happened to me recently. I got my Malaysian International Passport renewed in one hour and fifty-five minutes. Yes, you read that right. They promise a two-hour service with the new kiosks at Pusat Bandar Damansara. I had to test it. It works. Oh boy, does it work. Finally, something in this country works as promised. No form filling, nothing. One passport photo, photocopy of IC, original IC, old passport, two minutes in front of the touch-screen kiosk, and collect your new passport two hours later. Guess what? No queues.
Cool.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Let there be paper
Most people probably know that the word 'paper' comes from 'papyrus', a plant found in Egypt along the Nile River. About 5,000 years ago, Egyptians would use 'sheets' of papyrus made by harvesting, peeling and slicing the plant into strips, and then layered, pounded and smoothed to make a flat, uniform sheet. For 3000 years there were no major changes in writing material until the Chinese started using paper. (Now we have the computer.)
The first Chinese paper was made from sodden hemp waste, beaten to a pulp with a wooden tool and stretched over a coarsely woven cloth sieve on a bamboo frame. Instead of hemp, Tsai used pulp from bamboo and the inner bark of the mulberry. He also experimented with the bark of other trees, as well as linen rags and fishnets.
The invention of paper was crucial in the development of the Chinese civilization since it facilitated its spread much faster through widespread use of literature and literacy. (Tell that to the ignoramuses who run Malaysia.) Future Chinese emperors would make paper a tool for imperial administration and the diffusion of knowledge. The Chinese further advanced paper-making process including the invention of a quick-release mould for more production speed, and the use of starch as a filler.The official biography of Tsai Lun, written in China, says: In ancient times writings and inscriptions were generally made on tablets of bamboo or on pieces of silk called chih. But silk being costly and bamboo heavy, they were not convenient to use. Tsai Lun [Cai Lun] then initiated the idea of making paper from the bark of trees, remnants of hemp, rags of cloth, and fishing nets. He submitted the process to the emperor in the first year of Yuan-Hsing and received praise for his ability. From this time, paper has been in use everywhere and is universally called 'the paper of Marquis Tsai'.
The emperor Ho Ti (or He Di) was so pleased with Tsai Lun that he promoted him and granted the eunuch an aristocratic title and great wealth.
Tsai Lun was born in Ch'en-chou during the Eastern Han Dynasty around 50 CE. He stared serving as a court eunuch in 75 CE, and in 89 CE he was promoted by Emperor Ho Ti with the title of Shang Fang Si (officer in charge of manufacturing instruments and weapons). In 105 CE, Tsai Lun (with help of imperial consort, Deng) invented the composition for paper along with the paper-making process. In 114 CE, following his invention, Tsai Lun was given the title of Marquis. It was later that he became involved in intrigue, as a supporter of Empress Dou, and became involved in the death of her romantic rival, Consort Song. In 121 CE, after Consort Song's grandson Emperor An assumed power after Empress Deng's death, and Tsai was ordered to report to prison. But before that, he committed suicide by drinking poison, apparently, after taking a bath and dressing in fine robes. (All of which has nothing to do with paper, but I am intrigued by the enormous power of these guys wielded -- and they didn't even have nuts.)
Paper-making remained a closely guarded secret until it spread to Korea in the sixth century, and to Japan in the seventh. The technology then spread westwards to Tibet and Central Asia. In 751 CE Arabs captured some Chinese paper-makers after Tang troops were defeated in the Battle of Talas River between Arab Abbasid Caliphate and the Chinese Tang Dynasty, and paper started being produced in Samarkand. In the year 794 CE, a paper mill was built in Baghdad. Paper-making continued westward, and the first paper mill was built in Europe in 1150 CE. (Another significance of The Battle of River Talas, as told by Russian historian Vasily Bartold was, "... undoubtedly of great importance in the history of (Western) Turkestan as it determined the question which of the two civilizations, the Chinese or the Muslim, should predominate in the land (of Turkestan)." In other words it caused the decline of Tang influence in Central Asia and switched authority to the Abbasids, Tibetans, or Uighurs and the introduction of Islam among the Turkic peoples. Other historians give it much less significance, apart from the paper making thing.)
Then in 1448 CE, Johannes Gutenberg invented the printing press.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Writing as a career choice
Would I recommend writing as a career choice? Certain forms, yes. Journalism, for one. It will pay your rent, I guess. And more, if you are good at it. Copywriting shouldn't allow you starve to death either. But poetry and fiction? I don't think so. Basically there is little money in writing fiction and practically none in poetry. But how do you tell that to a parent who thinks that his daughter is the next JK Rowling?
There are two issues here. The first one is whether one can make money from creative writing. I wrote in a 'news' entry some time ago quoting a story from The Independent called Pulped Fiction: "... According to the report the average author in the UK earns about GBP16,000 (a little over RM108,000) a year, a third less than the national average wage. Enough if one was living in Malaysia, I guess. But if the superstars are removed from the sums, the actual figure comes closer to GBP4000 (RM 27,000) a year, hardly enough to live in KL. In Britain this is reckoned to be insufficient for stale bread for breakfast and a tarpaulin for shelter." You can read it here.
The other issue is parents. When does an (outwardly) perfectly normal, peaceful-looking individual become a parent from hell? In a government school, I have heard that it happens when his son gets punished for bullying another pupil and then proceeds to beat up the teacher who reprimands him, whereupon he (the parent from hell) proceeds to the school, assaults the teacher himself, shouts at the headmaster who tries to intervene, and then threatens to sue the school, the Ministry and the Government. In a private (or international) school, on the other hand, I have been told that the parent from hell will demand to know why his daughter, who has never scored less than 98 marks in her exam paper, got only 97 this time, one mark less than her clearly inferior classmate, a daughter of a rival to boot, and will then proceed to berate the said teacher and the principle because he has paid a lot of money for his daughter's education.
Different value systems, I guess.
(I don't recall my father ever coming to my school during my time except on the first day of year one. I don't recall ever seeing my friends' parents either. I suppose, that would be classified as the other extreme.)
As a bookseller I meet parents too, but not that many. Mostly, they inquire about reading material for their children or books for school assignments. Some ask about the Writing Programme which, I proceed to tell them, I do not recommend to those still in school because it might interfere with their school work (or even contradict what their teachers tell them). But I had a rather curious and an extremely annoying encounter recently.
I came in after lunch one day to find two people waiting for me: a nineteen-year-old and her father. I was told that they had been waiting for me for a while and had insisted on speaking to me about publishing. Now if there is one thing I don't like, it is the unannounced first visit about publishing. It puts both parties in an awkward situation, and generally ends leaving a bad taste in the mouth. I even dread telephone solicitation for similar reasons. I prefer to receive an email, whereupon I would normally request for a synopsis and about twenty pages of their writing (also by email) before deciding if a meeting would be worthwhile. I have had authors walk in here and 'offer' me their manuscripts, stuff I am not interested in, or in really badly written ones, for thousands of dollars. Some will try the heavy 'Tupperware sales-lady' approach. Some will try and turn on their nauseating charm and give me diabetes on the spot. Some will, practically, demand that I publish their books, period. They are shocked when I tell them that I don't publish certain types of books like self-help or management or some such. Often I have to lie. (I cannot tell them the only thing I really want to say: that their writing is plain bad.) I have been scolded by would be authors who cannot understand why I would not let them use the 'Silverfishbooks' imprint even if they are willing to pay for printing costs. Generally, few of these meetings end very pleasantly for everyone.
So I did freak a little at this little visitation. But nevertheless, I felt obliged to agree. (Why are people allowed to get away with taking advantage of one's hospitality?) We just want some advice from you because my daughter likes writing, the father said. So we went into the office.
He said that he wanted his daughter to be a writer, because he thought that it was a good way of making money and that his daughter had written a bunch of poems (typical schoolgirl moon-June-spoon variety, I later learned) and wanted to know if it could be published. (So much for the advice bit, I sighed inwardly.) I told him that nobody ever got rich writing poetry because it did not sell. "Yes," he said he understood. He had heard that Malaysians read little. What if we marketed it internationally, he wanted to know? I told him that the same was the case all over the world, unless his name was Seamus Heaney.
"Oh. So what type of book sells?"
"If you really want to know, romances," I said. "Real bodice-splitting romances. With lots of sex. But we don't publish those."
"Why not? If they sell, why don't you publish them?"
"We are not interested in that kind of stuff, that's all. They are mostly badly written, in any case. Anyway, there are other publishers who do that."
He kept badgering me for a while more on that. I was sure he had no idea what he was talking about. Did he really want his daughter to write that kind of stuff?
"But I want her to write something that will sell," he finally said.
"Look if you are thinking about your daughter taking up writing for money, I think you should forget about it right now. If your daughter wants to write, she should write. Not for the money but because she wants to. And, if she does happen to make money, good for her. Anyway, a survey shows that authors of most bestsellers are in their fifties. She is still young."
Then he said, "Unless you are deaf, dumb and blind, everyone knows how much money JK Rowling makes."
Oh God! Not another one!
"How many JK Rowlings, are there?"
"One." He looked puzzled.
"What is the population of the world?"
"I don't know ... several billions."
"So, the chances of your daughter becoming another JK Rowling is one in several billions. Now, if you go downstairs and buy a lottery, the chances of you winning the first prize is one in three million. Wouldn't that be much better? Anyway your daughter has not even started writing."
He wouldn't let go for a while. Then he relented. "What advice will you give her if she wants to write?"
"Read," I said.
"Yes, yes," he said impatiently. "But what does she have to do if she wants to write?"
"She could attend a writing course," I said, "but I wouldn't advise it for her now. Not yet. She has to start reading first. She has to start reading widely. All the classics, all the modern masters." I looked at the girl, who had been quiet all this while. A pleasant teenager, well on the way to adulthood, polite, a bit shy, but obviously intelligent -- she seemed to understand what I was trying to say. "What are you reading now?" I asked. From the way she hesitated I realised that she clearly was not.
"What was the last book you read?" She mentioned an author which sounded like one of those that teenagers read. I smiled at her and told her that, if she wanted to be a writer, she had to read very widely, preferably before she decided what she wanted to write about. I mentioned a few names, some she had heard and some she hadn't.
The father was decidedly unhappy with my diversion and harangued me a little more before I told him finally that there was little money in writing and that writers on average, probably, earned less than bricklayers. His daughter should write, by all means, if that is what she wanted to do, but forget about making lots of money.
That was the end of my meeting with the parent from hell. They left after a while, but not before someone heard the father muttering under his breath, "She can't spend all her time reading now and start writing only after she is fifty."
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
A literary blogger shuts down
So why is that news? One would think bloggers, literary or otherwise, open and shut daily without a world war breaking out. But the demise of the Return of the Reluctant by Edward Champion after four years (2003 to 2007) is talked about as if it were an end of an era. On his last posting on 18th December 2007 he says, "I filed for divorce from Return of the Reluctant, citing irreconcilable differences ... I'm a different person now ... When something stops being fun, it's pretty easy to become decisive." He also says, "I may be back. Old habits die hard." and "For now, however, I’m done with blogging. And I’m serious this time." How is that for keeping your options open?
Edward Champion continues, "... Reluctant was more of a chore. Often a thankless one. A daily grind in which I regularly asked myself why I wasn’t putting this kind of energy into the novel I’ve been working on …"
Personally, I do not read the blogs of any kind. This has become a point of contention, unfortunately. Blogging is the in-thing, if not a very new thing. (Sometimes it looks like bloggers outnumber readers. Or, are they one and the same?) Will you read my blog? used to be one of the most frequently asked question directed at me. (Now it is, Will you join my Facebook? Or some such.) I have decided to respond to all this with a completely non-committal smile, now. I used to tell them that I didn't have the time but after seeing some of the shocked expressions to my answer, like I had just confessed to murdering a favourite aunt or something, I have decided to change tactics. I have become aware of other thing in the blogosphere as well. There are lots of 'blog cliques' out there and they, apparently, can get quite vicious. So by not reading any blog, I can try to keep equidistant, or so I think. But that has not stopped some parties from believing that I should side with their 'righteous' cause, as oppose to the 'lies' spread by some others. So, it has been a 'no win' for me.
I believe, from the way people talk, that blogs can get quite addictive. Before I do anything I ask myself, 'Why do I want to do this?' If I cannot get a satisfactory answer, I don't do it. Simple. (That’s why I don't play golf -- no good answer, but a lot of bad ones). I am sure there is some interesting stuff out there for some people -- as I am sure there is one on Tiddlywinks -- but I really cannot afford to get screen-sucked into anything right now, or any time in the foreseeable future. (Though some may say that, being the egomaniac I am, I prefer my own opinions – and every one knows just how opinionated I am!) I also have a short attention span.
Anyway, I was curious about Reluctant. So I decided to look at the comments on the last posting to see what the big deal was. Here are some comments:
Who will keep the New York Times Book Review on its toes, now?
How dare you ruin my morning ritual of reading lit blogs and drinking coffee! I might take up smoking in its stead.
Aw, damn. you're one of my favorite cranks.
... Anyway, bettter you sweat and strain over stuff that pays than that which don't ...
There are plenty more ... (yawn) but I just got tired.
The Return of the Reluctant
Edward Champion continues, "... Reluctant was more of a chore. Often a thankless one. A daily grind in which I regularly asked myself why I wasn’t putting this kind of energy into the novel I’ve been working on …"
Personally, I do not read the blogs of any kind. This has become a point of contention, unfortunately. Blogging is the in-thing, if not a very new thing. (Sometimes it looks like bloggers outnumber readers. Or, are they one and the same?) Will you read my blog? used to be one of the most frequently asked question directed at me. (Now it is, Will you join my Facebook? Or some such.) I have decided to respond to all this with a completely non-committal smile, now. I used to tell them that I didn't have the time but after seeing some of the shocked expressions to my answer, like I had just confessed to murdering a favourite aunt or something, I have decided to change tactics. I have become aware of other thing in the blogosphere as well. There are lots of 'blog cliques' out there and they, apparently, can get quite vicious. So by not reading any blog, I can try to keep equidistant, or so I think. But that has not stopped some parties from believing that I should side with their 'righteous' cause, as oppose to the 'lies' spread by some others. So, it has been a 'no win' for me.
I believe, from the way people talk, that blogs can get quite addictive. Before I do anything I ask myself, 'Why do I want to do this?' If I cannot get a satisfactory answer, I don't do it. Simple. (That’s why I don't play golf -- no good answer, but a lot of bad ones). I am sure there is some interesting stuff out there for some people -- as I am sure there is one on Tiddlywinks -- but I really cannot afford to get screen-sucked into anything right now, or any time in the foreseeable future. (Though some may say that, being the egomaniac I am, I prefer my own opinions – and every one knows just how opinionated I am!) I also have a short attention span.
Anyway, I was curious about Reluctant. So I decided to look at the comments on the last posting to see what the big deal was. Here are some comments:
Who will keep the New York Times Book Review on its toes, now?
How dare you ruin my morning ritual of reading lit blogs and drinking coffee! I might take up smoking in its stead.
Aw, damn. you're one of my favorite cranks.
... Anyway, bettter you sweat and strain over stuff that pays than that which don't ...
There are plenty more ... (yawn) but I just got tired.
The Return of the Reluctant
Thursday, November 29, 2007
How lucrative is it to be a writer in Nigeria?
This is just what Henry Akubuiro wonders in the Sunday Sun and basically arrives at the conclusion that it is not. Why that should be a surprise, we don't know. From an article we read not too long ago in the Independent called Pulped Fiction (in April 2007) the average writer in the UK (if you remove the superstars from the list makes money "insufficient for stale bread for breakfast and a tarpaulin for shelter." Read it here. Getting on with the story, Henry Akubuiro starts the article by saying, "... More than other artists from the arts, creative writers have brought more joy to Nigeria, with literary giants like Chinua Achebe and Wole Soyinka, to mention a few, winning international renown and prizes, having their bestsellers translated into many foreign languages, and thereby promoting our cultural heritage ... Compared to the Nigerian musician or actor, the Nigerian writer, despite his intellectual edge, is taking the backseat as far as financial fortunes are concerned."
Further down the article he continues, "... Nigerian publishers are not helping matters, too. For most of them, their work stops at the point when the books are rolled out from the press. They do little or none of promoting and marketing their authors. A few of them who attempt doing this only rely on book reviews on newspaper arts pages instead of advertising their books as is the norm in the western world."
And more revealingly, he quotes Hyacinth Obunseh, currently assistant secretary of the Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA) and doubles as the CEO of Hybun, a publishing outlet that has published many new Nigerian writers, who says that the reason "our writers (are) not making money (is due) to the fact that publishers themselves are not making money."
His is the conclusion of the pessimist: "Judging from the foregoing, the creative writer in Nigeria is only a few steps removed from becoming an endangered species." This is, indeed, sad considering how Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart has sold 10 million copies worldwide (but is, reportedly, 'banned' from entering this country though it has been used for literature text by several schools for years. Go figure. This is Malaysia. Given this aggressive anti-intellectualism, is it a surprise that no Malaysian University is in the top 200 in the world?)
Full story: http://www.sunnewsonline.com/webpages/features/literari/2007/nov/18/literari-18-11-2007-001.htm
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Life after the first fruit
I have always been intrigued by Jeanette Winterson, firstly by her book titles -- Oranges are not the only fruit, Boating for Beginners, Sexing the Cherry, etc -- and secondly by the fact that they are not huge tomes. Still, I have not read her. Sharon would say, that's because I don't like to read women writers. I did think about that. The last women writer I read was Diane Setterfield. I did enjoy The Thirteenth Tale. But do I consider the sex of the author before I set out to read a book? I don't think so. Surely not at the conscious level, though pseudo-Freudians may disagree.But that's not what this is about. I was reading Jeanette Winterson's article in The Guardian earlier this month. She starts: 'It is impossible to begin at the beginning. Any scientist can tell you what happened in the first three seconds after the Big Bang, but none can say for sure what happened in the three seconds previous ... So it is with fiction.'
We glibly throw about theories on creative writing. Can it be taught, can it be learnt? I belong to the school that says it cannot be taught, but it can be learnt, given the right motivation and environment. Yes, it is about going within and pulling out that illusive rabbit, so to speak. Strangely, you only know what happens after the rabbit is pulled out. The writer will, in all probability, not be able to explain how exactly it happened, or when precisely it did. But it does not matter (except for those trying to learn your 'magic', and the harder they try the more difficult it will be for them). 'The fact is that before something happens there is no knowing what is happening ...' says Jeanette Winterson.
Jeanette Winterson says further on: in The PowerBook (2000), I wrote: "I can change the story. I am the story." This was because I had been thinking about how much better it might be to read ourselves as fictional narratives, instead of as a bloated CV of chronological events. Once we surrender ourselves to the tyranny of facts, it is difficult to re-find freewill.
I often have had people walk into the shop, bellowing pompously, declaring that they 'don't read fiction', as if it is something done by lower beings. I remain silent, but in my mind, I think, 'How sad.'
A short while ago I picked up the latest Orhan Pamuk book in English, Other Colours. Coincidently the first essay in the book, The Implied Author, is also about his life as a novelist. 'In order to be happy, I must have my daily dose of literature,' he writes. 'In this I am no different from ... (a diabetic who needs) an injection everyday (to survive) ... I have sometimes even entertained the thought that I was fully dead and trying to breathe some life back into my corpse with literature.'But like Winterson he is unable to describe the three seconds before the Big Bang either except that 'we surrender to this mysterious captain who has no idea where he is bound.' Like Ulysses? 'For what is a novel,' he continues further on, 'but a story that fills its sails with these winds ...'
'For thirty years I have spent ten hours in a room, sitting at my desk.' It is a wonderful essay, quite worth the price of admission for the entire book if you, like Pamuk, must have your dose of literature each day in order to be happy.
http://books.guardian.co.uk/review/story/0,,2204212,00.html
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Thai, Arab, Burmese, Kenyan and Japanese reading and writing
The literary pages on the internet in the last fortnight has been about the usual gripe about reading all over again, from all over the world. Here are a few of them. First in Thailand, The Nation reports Publishers and Booksellers Association of Thailand (PUBAT) president Risuan Aramcharoen as saying that, according to a survey conducted by the association in conjunction with the Thai Health Promotion Foundation, the Thai reading habit is to be way behind that of its neighbours. The report says that the Thais read only two books a year while Vietnamese read 60 and Singaporeans 45! (We don't think these are typos because they are mentioned twice in the article and average means every adult, youth and infant!) Where do they come up with these numbers?! If an average Vietnamese reads 60 books then the avid reader in that country should be reading over 200 to 250 books a year! Oh, come on.
A European Union report on reading habits found the Czech's averaged 16 books a year, the highest in Europe and probably in the world. Do Vietnamese and Singaporeans read three to four times more than that? Where the hell does the PUBAT president get his figures from? Bet he doesn't read and has no idea how long it takes to read a book. The same probably applies to the newspaper reporter who wrote the story. How glibly people throw numbers about. http://nationmultimedia.com/2007/10/18/headlines/headlines_30052875.php
Then there was the story about the Arabic writing debate as reported in the New Statesman. In his latest book, Why Are the Arabs Not Free ? Moustapha Safouan brings up the question of the type of Arabic writers should use. Apparently, the disparity between written and spoken Arabic is so great that writers can’t decide which to use. If he were to use the vernacular, it would be all but impossible for him to include sophisticated arguments and deep thoughts. But if he were to use the more formal written language he runs the risk of sounding pompous and rhetorical and, probably, will fail to reach the masses given the high level of illiteracy in the Arab world.
This is an old argument and it is also taking place in every country with a language police. We have heard it before. Some insist that there is only one way Bahasa can be written (though they have done several somersaults and back-flips and u-turns in the past fifty years and will probably continue to do so in the future) and everyone else not caring. Guess who will win? Are people writing in dialect incapable of projecting sophisticated emotions and deep thoughts? This appears like another excuse for keeping writing and reading in the hands of the elite. The inquisition ended in Europe several centuries ago but the debates appear to be still alive in many other parts of the world. http://www.newstatesman.com/200710180049
Then in Burma, 'Scratching poems on cell floors, or making ink from the brick powder of the walls, Burmese writers have managed to continue writing despite imprisonment and censorship,' Aida Edemariam reports in the Guardian
Yes, the feature is corny, mawkishly romantic and melodramatic to the max - but that's simply another example of 'past-colonial' writing for you. (She should sell her story to Hollywood. They love that kind of shit.) We all agree that it is a cruel and repressive regime but there is no need to get all gooey and mushy about it. Still, if you manage to get past all that, there are some interesting (and disturbing) facts in the article.
'International PEN, the global writer's association is currently campaigning for the release of nine writers serving sentences ranging from seven to 21 years. Aung Than and Zeya Aung, who wrote a book of verses called Daung Mann (or The Pride of the Peacock) received sentences of 19 years apiece last June for writing "anti-government poems'. Their printer received 14 years, and their distributor seven.
'The censorship office's 11 guidelines for what cannot be printed still include "anything that might be harmful to national solidarity and unity ... any incorrect ideas which do not accord with the times ... [and] any descriptions which, though factually correct, are unsuitable because of the time or the circumstance of their writing ...' (That sounds awfully familiar for some reason. Was there something like it in Amir's book?)
'Yet the regime has not been able to dent the liveliness of Burma's literary culture. Because of a system of education (that) runs through the monasteries, literacy levels - unlike in many similarly totalitarian states in the developing world - are high. The educational system, which forces the brightest high-school graduates into medicine, is also gender-blind ...’ (Well, that is good news at least.) http://books.guardian.co.uk/print/0,,330945136-118740,00.html
Then in Kenya, the debate has shifted to the quality of reading materials, the tired discussion on whether Kenyans read or do not read. Ms Muthoni Garland, a writer turned publisher, believes Kenyans love reading but there is lack of good reading materials from local writers. She says some (local) books are so appalling that few would spend their hard-earned money on them ... "While there are many good oral story-tellers who can captivate and entertain an audience, we are challenged when it comes to writing stories ..." Most publishing companies merely churn out textbooks. http://www.eastandard.net/archives/?mnu=details&id=1143976395&catid=316
And, finally, in Japan literary magazines, the 'home' of pure literature, are at a turning point. 'The magazines are welcoming young novelists as well as writers of entertaining works, and they are also opening up to talented people in other fields, including playwrights, film directors and illustrators ...' the report from Ashahi Simbun says. http://www.asahi.com/english/Herald-asahi/TKY200710200056.html
Obviously we do not live alone in this world.
Monday, October 15, 2007
The tipping point
The comments about the end of the Silverfish New Writing series didn't take long in coming. We have heard that discussions have been taking place on several other blog spots too. Our initial decision was not to make any comment, because no matter what we said there would be people unhappy with it. But we realise that we have some really very good friends out there, those who have supported us through the years, believed in what we were trying to do, and who genuinely don't have a personal agenda. So this explanation is for them. (There will be some who still don't 'get it', but that is a risk we take.) When we were kids we would go swimming at the 'garrison pool'. What we meant by swimming then, was basically splashing about at the shallow end with the occasional foray towards the deep side, holding on to the side rails. Showing off to the girls (notwithstanding our gawky, skinny torsos) and taking them out for heavily sugared drinks or ais-kacang afterwards was the high point of it all. Sometimes we would watch with a mixture of admiration and envy at some people doing the laps, knowing somehow that was what real swimming was about.
When we published Silverfish New Writing 1 in 2001, we said that it would be fantastic if only one or two writers emerged from it. ('Writers' has become a sensitive word -- so henceforth we shall change that to 'authors'.) We reckoned that if we have about fifteen or twenty authors (what is the tipping point, anyway?) producing good stuff regularly, the whole industry would take on a much healthier glow and, perhaps, even attract international attention.
After seven years and seven books in the SNW series and two other anthologies, not one Malaysian 'lapper' has emerged. (Internationally, we only know of Gary Lamoshi, an American living in Hong Kong, whose novel-in-progress was featured in Collateral Damage, and whose full length novel, Hong Kong on Air, has just been published. We are not counting several others who were already published authors before they started sending their work in for SNW.) Yes, the New Writing series has touched many people in many ways and it has resulted in (if we allowed ourselves to be so immodest) a slight seismic shift in the local literary scene. However, no matter how precious we feel about it, it has not produced the desired result. The SNW series, instead of becoming a means, a stepping-stone leading towards an end, has become an end itself. It is seen as a competition, no matter how many times we emphasise that it is not. That, to us, is a bit sad. Results do count. So, instead of behaving like some of our government and quasi-government departments that carry on doing the same thing despite forty or fifty years of abject failure, we have decided to move on. To use a quote from Dan Quayle: if we don't succeed, we run the risk of failure.
We are still, very much, committed to our original vision. The most frequent question we have asked ourselves is, "Why have no 'lappers' emerged from the SNW series?" Are our standards really too high, as some have told us? We think not. If anything, we feel we are no where near the standards we would like to achieve. All we do is to insist on a cetain minimum quality, that's all. Maybe, we cannot simply throw people into the deep end and expect them to start swimming, let alone do the laps. Publishers in this country, especially in the absence of literary agents and such, need to do more. Much more. And that is the philosophy behind our new initiative. This programme is only a year old but we are already coming out with the first book -- three new writers, three different voices, with ten selected stories apiece. The wonderful thing is that, they are all young (in their thirties), they all have full-time galley-slave type day-jobs with absurdly long hours, they are at an advanced stage with their own second book, and they will be the first to admit that they still have a long way to go. And none of them is your 'usual suspect'! For years the media has been asking us about the 'next big thing'. The book, News from Home, should be out at the end of the month. Read it with an open mind and decide.
While writing is about being creative, it is also about being aware of what readers and publishers are looking for (without going into silly areas like instant nirvana, instant health or instant wealth -- we will leave that for others), be it fiction or non-fiction. (We are several light-years away from 'art for the sake of art', so let's not even go there.) Apart from tapping into the genius within, it is about developing a writer’s temperament. It is about digging in. And it is about doing the laps. Publishers cannot simply sit back and wait for it to happen. (Unfortunately most will prefer others to do all the hard work). They can make it happen. But for that they need to work very closely with writers, make long-term commitments (not instant wealth), but without stifling individuality or creativity.
Anyway News from Home, which will be published end of this month or early next, is our first report card. We have decided that this is a far more efficient way of developing local writers than the SNW series, though, admittedly, we will have to confine ourselves to the Klang Valley for the moment. Not everyone will make it, many will drop off, some will not be interested in becoming 'lappers', some will do different forms of writing, and many will be happy being 'splashers'. But that is fine. It is the role, nay the duty even, of the schoolteacher to encourage and work with the weakest students in the class. A publisher is only interested in the top of the class. We make no apologies for that.
If we produce just one, two or three 'lappers' a year, we think we will be working towards that elusive tipping point. We are still hopeful.
Or, are we simply kidding ourselves?
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Write if you must, only if you absolutely must
Read an interesting story in The Australian by Jenny Sinclair. Okay, I can hear some of you saying already, "Yeah, yeah, yeah ... heard it all before." Absolutely true, but I like her beginning and her ending.
Beginning: 'EVERYWHERE I turn, it seems, I see advertisements for writing courses, writing workshops, writing weekends, writing holidays. All of them promise to help participants polish their prose and carve out their characters ...'
Ending: '... It's not writing that should be encouraged but reading, widely and voraciously, reading the classics, reading the modern masters. That, if my university lecturers are right, is what will bring out the real writers among us. Magazine editors, publishers and writing competitions are groaning under the output of all those writing courses and I want to say stop. Stop if you can. And if you can't stop, write.'
Like in all stories different people will take away different parts from it to call their own. Here are some vignettes.
'What they (the multiplicity of courses) do is provide toolboxes, and with those toolboxes the vaguely talented often turn out the equivalent of high school carpentry projects: a procession of by-the-numbers breakfast trays and carved wooden animals.'
'Writing is not a good in itself that everyone should be encouraged to attempt, such as cycling to work or eating more broccoli ... Training and encouragement will not bring out the real writers. The threat of not writing will.'
And then I got cancer. Death threatened ... I had an epiphany: it didn't matter to me if I was any good as long as I wrote.
I know what you are thinking: "Wah, so drama ..." Nevermind. Read the article at: http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,20867,21105051-5001986,00.html
Beginning: 'EVERYWHERE I turn, it seems, I see advertisements for writing courses, writing workshops, writing weekends, writing holidays. All of them promise to help participants polish their prose and carve out their characters ...'
Ending: '... It's not writing that should be encouraged but reading, widely and voraciously, reading the classics, reading the modern masters. That, if my university lecturers are right, is what will bring out the real writers among us. Magazine editors, publishers and writing competitions are groaning under the output of all those writing courses and I want to say stop. Stop if you can. And if you can't stop, write.'
Like in all stories different people will take away different parts from it to call their own. Here are some vignettes.
'What they (the multiplicity of courses) do is provide toolboxes, and with those toolboxes the vaguely talented often turn out the equivalent of high school carpentry projects: a procession of by-the-numbers breakfast trays and carved wooden animals.'
'Writing is not a good in itself that everyone should be encouraged to attempt, such as cycling to work or eating more broccoli ... Training and encouragement will not bring out the real writers. The threat of not writing will.'
And then I got cancer. Death threatened ... I had an epiphany: it didn't matter to me if I was any good as long as I wrote.
I know what you are thinking: "Wah, so drama ..." Nevermind. Read the article at: http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,20867,21105051-5001986,00.html
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Everyone has a story to tell
Or, in the case of the participants of the Silverfish Writing Programme (SWP), some people have many stories to tell.
The first intake was in July, and since then over 30 participants have attended or are attending the Programme. One of the spin-offs of the SWP is The Silverfish Writer page at http://www.silverfishbooks.com/writer.html. We started this some weeks after the end of the first Programme. It was the usual dilemma: how to keep the momentum going after the course. The first group tried to form a writer's circle for a few weeks, and then gave up. They realised that it was almost impossible for everyone to be free at the same time on the same day? Geographical locations in the Klang Valley can be remote and the traffic (especially during the rainy season) quite daunting. We suggested an online writers group and The Silverfish Writer page was created with Silverfish Books as the facilitator. We hoped it would help but, to be honest, we were really not sure at all at that time.
For the last three-months we have kept it largely within the SWP community, so to speak. But we notice that the site has attracted others as well, with many helpful (and some not so helpful) comments. With the internet, that is to be expected.
Our decision was to post a story a week, and so far we have posted 12. (We have received over 20 and they keep coming in.) All the stories posted so far (and those in our queue) are from the SWP participants. They have been posted in, more or less, their 'raw' form, that is, with very little editing. Some of them still require more work, and all of them need to be edited and proofed. Many of the stories began as assignments. Many are well on their way to publishing their first book.
Not all stories are posted, however. We have also received several stories from none SWP participants. We have no objections to that at all. But so far we have not posted any of them. We have sent back stories for rewrites if, after reading (at least a couple of times) we feel, "Excuse me, what are you trying to say? What is your story about?" (In some cases, we feel there is a story in there somewhere but is obscured by the writer's own seeming attempt at cleverness.Our advice: keep it simple. If you are clever, it will show. Don't worry.)
Writers are, first and foremost, storytellers. They ply their trade by telling stories - as do dramatists, movie directors, singers, or even, dancers and painters. Writing by itself is only a tool - albeit a powerful one. They are like paints and brushes. Calling oneself a writer is like calling oneself a typist. It does not mean anything. Whether writers like to believe it or not, they belong in the entertainment industry. Stories are read for entertainment first. After that, if they are good enough (or great even) they become cultural markers. Ditto: movies, drama, paintings, etc.
The next intake for the Silverfish Writing Programme will resume on the 6th of January 2007 after a short break in December 2006. (Several people have already inquired about registration before this announcement. You may submit your registration now.) For more information about the Programme please visit: http://www.silverfishbooks.com/Silverfish/Version4/Writing/WrtitingProgramme.asp
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Why do people need stories?
I met Yasmin Ahmad and (veteran film maker) Dato L Krishnan during a function last week when the question arose, Why do we need stories? Why do people need stories?
Just look around us. We are saturated with stories. The fact that Malaysians don't read much does not count for anything. We are surrounded by stories. Everywhere. They are all around us. In books, in newspapers, in magazines, in movies, on television, and on radio. We write stories, we sing stories in songs, we tell them in drama, we draw them in paintings, we dance it … Thousands of stories are told every day, for thousands and thousands of listeners. We can live with very little to eat, but we cannot live without stories.Maybe it is because stories are about people's lives, and that's why they like to listen to it … we want to find out more about our lives, Yasmin said.
You think so? interjected Dato' Krishnan, How do you explain a five year old or even a two year old who likes to listen to stories sitting on his grandfather's lap or before he goes to sleep, and what does he know about life?
I guess we will never answer the 'why' question satisfactorily. But the fact remains, stories are a major part of our lives and throughout the ages storytellers have held the most important positions in society. Leading American writer Paul Auster, in a recent acceptance speech for the Prince of Asturias Prize for Letters, (Spain's premier literary award) argues that fiction is 'magnificently useless'. Magnificent, yes we can see that … but useless? Surely not. It is, perhaps, useless in a practical sense: we cannot eat it, it will not fix a leaking roof, or change the light bulb … but can any human live without it?
Paul Auster continues: This need to make, to create, to invent is, no doubt, a fundamental human impulse. But to what end? What purpose does art, in particular the art of fiction; serve in what we call the real world? … Some like to think that a keen appreciation of art can actually make us better people - more just, more moral, more sensitive, more understanding … art is useless, at least when compared, say, to the work of a plumber, or a doctor, or a railroad engineer. But is uselessness a bad thing? Does a lack of practical purpose mean that books and paintings and string quartets are simply a waste of our time?
Anyone who has seen the excitement in the eyes of the two year old sitting on a relative's lap, listening to a yarn unfold knows the answer to that.
We are human and we cannot live without stories. We are the only animals with this yearning. Yasmin then said, Do storytellers really create the stories, or do the stories already exist and the storyteller is merely the vehicle? It is a chicken and egg question, the answer to which is not important.What is important is that stories and art are our cultural genes, or memes - to use a word coined by Richard Dawkins in1979 - that make up our social DNA. And almost every aspect of a society can be found in these memes. In the Malaysian context, the legend of Hang Tuah's epic battle with Hang Jebat is probably the most prominent meme. That which splits Malaysians right down the middle even today - do you protest against an unjust ruler or rule, or uphold it because it comes from the ruler and it is the rule?
Another interesting Malaysian meme, for me, is from the Malay Annals - the story Singapura dilanda todak or the Swordfish attack on Singapore. This is quite similar to the Dutch story of a little boy who stuck his finger into a dike to stop a leak and as a result saved the country from flooding. Correct me if I am wrong, but I believe he became a hero in Holland after that. In the Malaysian version of this meme, this happened long before the time of the founding of Melaka in the 15th century, swordfish attack Singapore. People are attacked by this fish, pierced through their chest and stomach, and even decapitated. Many die. The Ruler orders his men to form a continuous row along the shoreline to kill the fish as they approach. But when the swordfish come many men needlessly perished when the fish attack their shins. Then one little boy watching this disaster said, Why are we making a barricade with our legs. Would it not be better if we used banana stems instead? When the Paduka Sri Maharaja (today he would be called the prime minister) heard this he said, Of course, the boy is right. And so they built a barricade of banana stems and the swordfish were defeated due to the ingenuity of a little boy.
In most versions, the story ends here. But in the actual account in the Sejarah Melayu, the Paduka Sri Maharaja goes back to the Ruler and tells him what happens. He also adds, The boy is very clever and when he grows up he will be a very clever man. Would it not be better to get rid of him now. The Ruler agrees and orders the boy to be put to death.
We still haven't stopped shooting messengers over seven hundred years after that event. Could that be the reason why we worship mediocrity like Akademi Fantasia so much? The reason for our major anti-intellectualism, perhaps?
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