It is very irritating to think up great things to write just as you turn out the light and find a snug comfortable position on the bed. You know you have to get up again, turn the light back on and start scribbling, because otherwise all that marvellous witty phrasing is going to fly right out of your brain and tomorrow your head will be as empty as it ever was.

Did I just admit my brain is empty? Uh... em... errr... of course it's not! It's got something called Grey Matter inside, right? It couldn't possibly be empty. Could it?

I've met enough writers to notice that they're constantly insecure about their work. Most of them think they write crap even though they get paid for it. If somebody wants to buy your piece, that person obviously doesn't think your work is crap, right? But no, despite all evidence to the contrary, the writers I know persist in believing they can't write anything worth reading.

In some ways, I'm like them. I think my writing is either too overblown or too bland, depending on the occasion. When I read newpaper articles, books, or other blogs, I always wonder, "Why can't I write like him or her?" Other writers always seem witter, more amusing, more articulate, and more interesting.

I'm still amazed whenever someone tells me they enjoy reading what I write. I never quite know what to say. I want to ask, "Really?" and find out what it is about my writing that pleases them so. But I never do, because it would sound too much like fishing for compliments.

Grammar and I are strangers to each other. Verbs, adverbs, nouns, adjectives, pronouns, prepositions, conjunctions, articles — they're all names of distant acquaintances. When I bump into any of them, I say "Hi," then add, "you look very familiar, but I'm afraid I don't really remember who you are..."

Luckily for me, I might not remember their names, but most of the time I know where they belong. When I write, I put them in place by instinct. I trust my inner ear, who tells me whether the sentence sounds right.

It's funny, really — I can tell you when something is wrong, and I can tell you what is wrong, but I can't tell you why it's wrong. Who can explain grammar anyway?

Ten days. Ten days of silence. I seem to go through periods when the creativity is simply bursting out of me and nothing can stem the tide of words. I write furiously, then the well dries up and I am left wordless.

It hasn't helped that I've been feeling as if my life has run away with me lately. Or, more accurately, run away without me.

Characters are the most important aspect of a novel to me. They must be strong, vulnerable and flawed to be believable.
—Theresa Michaels

I think the temptation is to make one's characters perfect, or at least free from suffering. Unfortunately, real people not only aren't perfect, they also suffer. It is difficult to make one's characters suffer, but needs must.

I write because I have to write. It is something I cannot explain, the need to put words down on paper. Often I do not even know what words will emerge until my pen travels over the blank sheet and its ink forms individual letters, leading up to words and phrases and sentences.

Yet at the same time, I do not feel that I have anything to say.

"Write a book," friends have suggested.

"A book about what?" I ask. I have no idea. My mind is blank.

It is terrible to have the compulsion to write and yet not have anything to write about. That is why I write about my life — it is the only thing I know to speak of, the only topic on which I can converse with any authority. At least, in chronicling my life, the well of ideas can never run dry, for it is filled afresh each day and no two days are exactly alike.

I have never written anything in spurts and am afraid to do it now. Much of what I write has never seen draft form: I just plonk it on a page, and it is there.

On the rare occasions when I have left a piece unfinished, it has inevitably remained unfinished; frozen in time, in stasis, never achieving full splendour.

I have a fear of breaking off my writing. For me, it is not breaking up but breaking off, because I find that when I come back to it I have lost my original train of thought and do not want to board another. To do so would be disloyal to my initial muse. I still want to capture the picture that danced in my mind's eye at the beginning; I am reluctant to loosen my hold on it, and am even more reluctant to allow it to morph into an image I do not recognise. If it slips through my fingers, I would rather leave my unfinished piece as a monument to its brief existence and mourn the loss of potential greatness.

I do not like to take something which I know ought to have pointed in one direction and turn it to another instead. This is why I am so afraid to write a novel. It is impossible to write a novel in one sitting — in fact, some authors have laboured over their works for years and years. I am afraid I will write something on one day from which I cannot continue on the next.

So it is not the infamous writer's block that I fear, but my own stubborn sense of procedure and process. This should be followed by this and cannot be substituted by that. If I get stuck in such a manner I know I will never finish and it is safer not to begin than to endure the frustration and self-disgust at not finishing.

People say you must first read in order to be able to write. That's long been a belief I share.

Look at all the great writers: every single one was a voracious reader. Perhaps reading sows seeds in the imagination, perhaps it teaches us the wonder of paying attention to the images we see in our heads, perhaps it gives us the words to use to describe those ever-changing pictures. Whatever it does, one thing is clear: reading supports writing.

But I have, I feel, wasted ten years of my life reading 'trash'. As a friend once said, for a bibliophile, I've read all the wrong books.

The truth is that trash is easier to read. Undemanding and comforting in its very predictability, trash doesn't demand intense concentration or a focussed mind. It neither stimulates thought nor requires chewing and digesting.

So I am a lazy reader. I read only to be entertained, and, in some ways, to escape. I do not want to engage my faculties any deeper than the very minimum required for mindless enjoyment.

Somehow, in my mind, my reading habits have come to be associated with lax morals. As an aspiring writer, I am ashamed of my lax morals, evidenced by my choice of dubious reading matter. I am convinced my actions have adversely affected my reputation and standing within the writing community. I believe I will never be a good writer because I have not read good books.

Note to self and everyone else: great writers revise, revise, revise and revise and then maybe revise some more. Mediocre writers (including one or two who致e passed manuscripts my way) say "Do I really have to?"
—Sharon Bakar, published writer

I have never ever, in my entire life, revised anything. All the essays I wrote in school were done as is, without a prior outline. The articles I used to submit to the newspaper were handed in as is, with no preliminary drafts. My blog posts are published as is, with no editing whatsoever, except for clarity and grammar. I don稚 know how to revise.

And I hate hacking up my babies. Yes, I feel extremely proprietary about my writing. God help you if I ever discover you致e plagiarised my work.

A writer's life involves delving into both the scrumptious and the bland. Not much luxury to pick and choose, especially when it's a matter of simply needing to eat. As Dad used to say, "Don't want to eat this, don't want to eat that! You should have gone through the Japanese Occupation*, that would have taught you to eat anything you're given!"

For me, corporate work comes under the heading of — well, not bland, exactly, but it is like having to eat spaghetti when you are craving fried chicken. Different taste, different texture, different smell... it is not different in a bad way; it just doesn't quite jive with me, somehow.

Sure, I can still do it. But it is never going to win me any awards, that's for sure.

 
*a reference to World War II when Japan invaded Malaya

The market for local authers here? Pathetic, unless you write something sensational like 50 reasons why some people should not become PM, that kind of thing, haha!
—Warren Lau, author of four published books

It is as I expected. Still, pretty discouraging to have my fears confirmed. I wonder whether Tash Aw would have done as well if he had published locally, or even in Singapore. Somehow, I doubt it.

I like to explain. I want to make sure my audience knows exactly what I am talking about. I try to eliminate any possible misunderstanding. I dislike open ends.

It is difficult to give myself the permission freedom to be not only ambiguous and cryptic, but brief. My rational mind knows that great writers do not tell the reader what they feel; they describe the emotion so that the reader is lulled into feeling the same way. But I tend to kill that by spurting too many words.

Anybody can have ideas — the difficulty is to express them without squandering a quire of paper on an idea that ought to be reduced to one glittering paragraph.
—Mark Twain

Friend: "I don't think I write very well. I have a tendency to write long sentences!"

Me: "Long sentences are okay as long as the meaning is clear. The trick, I feel, is to think like an academic but write like a layman."

Spreading my invaluable insight. How did I ever become so smart?!

Me: "You know how you always say your writing is hard to read?"

Friend: "Yes?"

Me: "I discovered the solution today." (points friend to pertinent blog post)

Friend: "Think like an academic but write like a layman? Still doesn't sound easy enough to me."

Me: "The point is not to find an easy solution but to be aware of the way you write. It is only when you are aware that you can change."

Friend: "But why is it people like you don't have to be aware and can write so well anyway? Seems like you do it so easily. It's not fair!"

Me: "That's because I don't think like an academic in the first place. I've read too many novels, especially romance novels. But you — you don't even read fiction, so you don't have the chance to let that kind of writing style seep into you."

Friend: "You mean people like Tom Clancy and the rest write simple English?"

Me: "It's not a matter of writing simple English. It's got to do with writing in a conversational style, almost like talking to the reader. Your writing must engage the reader and draw the reader in."

Before the advent of smilies and emoticons, I actually expected to convey my tone and emotions to the reader through my writing alone. Imagine that! *gasp*

I confess: emoticons have made me lazy. I am not sure whether I have allowed myself to become careless when it comes to conveying the correct nuance through my writing, but I am sure that I do not try as hard to get it exactly right. After all, there is always the playful wink () or mischievous grin () to call upon in a pinch.

My emails are peppered with emoticons. I never missed those little images when they didn't exist, but now it's almost as if I cannot write without them. This won't do; it won't do at all.

Me: "Do you have a blog too?"

Stranger, via instant messaging: "Yeah, here (gives URL). But you'll surely find it boring."

Me: (reading) "Ah, you write about what you do. Why don't you also write out what you think?"

Stranger: "It's too hard."

What is this about wanting the perfect environment and perfect conditions in which to write? I tell myself, "I am too tired, I cannot write right now." But at the end of the day I am always tired and if it is work, I would write anyway — and come up with something worth submitting. I need more determination. And self-discipline. Gaaah!

Writing on blogs is safer; self-publish, no critics, no editors, no pulling your work apart and putting it together again. No risk.

Even better: scribble away in the quietness of your room and accumulate a pile of papers, a manuscript that's never finished and never ready to be shown to anyone.

Or type furiously and have it languish on the cold hard disk.

Putting my work out there means bracing for rejection; I have always been afraid of hearing those three words: not good enough. My motto comes back to haunt me — no guts, no glory!

The one thing I've always known I could do is write. It's something I've always taken for granted, because it comes so naturally. I used to write reams and reams of letters to pen-pals during my teen years. Many of my pen-pals were poor correspondents, though, so on the balance I was always the one writing more, and writing more often. That used to frustrate me so much!

In school, I wrote long essays, far longer than the required examination length. None of my English teachers ever said anything about it to me; I suspect because mine were probably more well-written and entertaining than ten of their other students' short essays!

I say this without conceit, although I still don't know how to respond when people praise me for my writing or tell me I'm a good writer; I always feel I deserve no credit, because I don't do anything -- really! I just sit down and type, and it comes out like that! I don't put much effort into my writing, apart from figuring out what I want to convey. And most times that comes while I write, anyway.

But I did not truly recognise what a gift I have until I spoke with a friend last week. He's just entered the world of journalism and was telling me what a hard time he's been having trying to adjust his writing style to that of news reporting. Suddenly I flashed back to my time at newsdesk, when I'd first joined The Star. I had gone in there fresh from law school, with no prior experience in journalism. It had never even occurred to me to wonder if I could write what they would want me to write, in the way they would want me to write it. I just thought it was normal to write news that way, and feature articles another. And so I did.

Which meant I was slightly nonplussed to discover that my friend was having difficulties. I wasn't sure how to help, because I've never had to face that particular struggle. The whole thing had come so naturally to me, I had done what needed to be done without even realising I was doing it!

There has to be a lesson in there somewhere. I am just not sure what it is.

It takes concentration and commitment to write worthwhile stuff. This I realised while writing for, of all things, my personal blog. There are always a lot of things I could say and intend saying, but I have to make myself sit down and write them out.

If I don't want to make the time or am too lazy to make the effort, it is easy to just write what I call a "bimbo post" about my day and what I've been doing. That doesn't take much thought, although it may still be entertaining. But I somehow feel like it doesn't count, precisely because it doesn't take much thought. Also because I feel that there's little value in the "today I had vanilla ice-cream for lunch" type of posts. What's the point of writing those? Anybody could do that. And many do.

But to write something truly worth reading, now, that's a challenge. Something that might make people think. Something that will resonate with my readers. Something that's really a part of me and is born out of the person I am. Something I can be proud of.

That's my goal -- to write things I can be proud of. Yet a lot of times, it happens without me noticing. When I look through my blog archives, I rediscover pieces I'd forgotten... pieces that make me marvel: "I wrote this?!"

Effortless effort. An contradiction and paradox. But that's what writing is for me, sometimes. At other times, it is conscious effort -- not the actual writing, but determining to write and following through on that determination. Laziness and procrastination get me every time.

Nanowrimo (National Novel-Writing Month -- should be International Novel-Writing Month, but Innowrimo just doesn't have the same 'oomph', I suppose) kicked off a few days ago... on Nov 1, to be exact. Every year, various friends ask me whether I plan to participate. I don't think I ever will.

Apart from the fact that I don't like the pressure of having to write a certain amount of words in a certain amount of time, I don't have a plot, don't have characters, and don't have a novel inside me dying to be written.

I used to dream of becoming a famous author when I was young; now I'm older and wiser and I'm not at all sure I have what it takes. What makes me think I could write a book that people would want to read? So many good books out there are already out of print and difficult to find, lying obscure and forgotten in hidden dark corners. That is frustrating to a book lover such as myself.

At thirty-two, I felt old as the hills. How far away it was, that great man's life I'd promised myself. On top of everything else, I wasn't very happy with what I was writing; at the same time, I really would have liked to be in print. I can appreciate the extent of my disappointment today, when I recall that at twenty-two I'd noted down in my diary this phrase from Töpffer, which had made my heart beat faster: 'Whoever is not famous at twenty-eight must renounce glory for ever.' A totally absurd phrase, of course, but one which threw me into agonies. Well, at twenty-eight I was unknown, I'd written nothing good, and if I wanted ever to write anything worth reading I had my work cut out.
-- Jean-Paul Satre

I'm twenty-eight; I know exactly what he's talking about. I feel the same way -- if I ever want to write anything worth reading, I have my work cut out.

Writing takes a lot of discipline, especially if one's day job is something altogether different and divorced from writing. On one hand, I have to do something that allows me to continue surviving, so that I am able to write. On the other, work can be all-consuming and a very effective drain of my creative energy, thus preventing me from writing. It's a dilemma of sorts, the Sex & Cash Theory.

I still remember reading about the emergency room physician whose short story collection, Bloodletting & Miraculous Cures, won the Giller prize this year. In an interview, he said:

I find that I can be exhausted as a writer after having worked a fair bit and still have the energy to go to the hospital. In fact, I'm relieved by the concreteness of medicine. And I can be mentally exhausted as a doctor and I've still got writer energy. They're very different processes. Writing is something that starts from the page and off you go, whereas with medicine, you're confronted with a situation and then have to deal with it.

Maybe he's found the balance between his two professions. I have yet to settle into a career (am currently job-hunting) so perhaps that explains why I have difficulty juggling the two things at the same time. Or is that only an excuse?

Dropped by the Write Out Loud book launch today (very late, I might add) to share in Alexandra Wong's moment of triumph. Alex has been a friend to me since we started chatting online in August 2005. I still have the transcript of our very first conversation, which started with her saying to me:

"Hi, I've never really added a stranger quite like this but I wanted to tell you I like your blog and the last few posts touched a chord."

She wanted to run off after that, but I persuaded her to introduce herself -- "You know me but I dunno you wor". After that we went on to talk about everything from parents to men to online dating to cost of living in KL / PJ to writing for the newspaper. I love instant messaging.

Alex is passionate about writing, and it shows. Local author and newspaper columnist Lydia Teh recently said in an interview that writers must be hungry in order to succeed. I often think that Alex is far more hungry than I. She gave up a lucrative and successful career in order to write, and she actively chases leads, jumps at the chance to network with other writers, and constantly submits stories and articles to various publications. Me, I say I want to be a writer, but am remarkably calm about it. Alex is anything but calm when it comes to this; she is devoted to making her dream come true. So if anyone deserves to have the joy of seeing one of her works published in a short story anthology, Alex's name is the first to come to mind.

At the book launch, I also met Ted Mahsun, a writer / blogger I'd so far only known by name (always see his comments on Sharon Bakar's blog!). It was good to speak with Karen-Ann Theseira, who put the book together, and to hear that a follow-up project is already in the works. She invited us -- BP and Sneexe were also present -- to submit stories for the next anthology.

I don't have anything to show her at the moment. Maybe that should be one of my resolutions for 2007: write more creative stuff. And try to read at least a book a month, since I can't hope to finish reading all the unread books I have!

Anyone who believes you can't change history has never tried to write his memoirs.
--David ben Gurion

I was rewarded with the first chapter of the book Writing The Memoir: From Truth To Art, by Judith Barrington. Made me want to buy the book! Arrrggh!

Below is the relevant excerpt:

Sometimes when I teach the memoir, a student will ask: "But how is the memoir different from autobiography?" Certainly some memoirs are booklength and therefore contain as much material as many autobiographies. But a memoir is different, and the difference has to do with the choice of subject matter.

An autobiography is the story of a life: the name implies that the writer will somehow attempt to capture all the essential elements of that life. A writer's autobiography, for example, is not expected to deal merely with the author's growth and career as a writer but also with the facts and emotions connected to family life, education, relationships, sexuality, travels, and inner struggles of all kinds. An autobiography is sometimes limited by dates (as in Under My Skin: Volume One of My Autobiography to 1949 by Doris Lessing), but not obviously by theme.

Memoir, on the other hand, makes no pretense of replicating a whole life. Indeed, one of the important skills of memoir writing is the selection of the theme or themes that will bind the work together. Thus we discover, on setting out to read Patricia Hampl's Virgin Time, that her chosen theme is the Catholicism she grew up with and her later struggle to find a place for it in her adult spiritual life. With a theme such as this laid down, the author resists the temptation to digress into stories that have no immediate bearing on the subject, and indeed Hampl's book tells nothing about many other aspects of her life, although it abounds in good stories. Vivian Gornick's memoir Fierce Attachments sets as its theme the story of the author's relationship with her mother. By setting boundaries, the writer can keep the focus on one aspect of a life and offer the reader an in-depth exploration.

When you select the material for a memoir, you will be keeping other material for later. Most people only ever write one autobiography, but you may write many memoirs over time. Mary Clearman Blew compares this process with the making of a quilt:

Remember that you have all colors to choose from; and while choosing one color means forgoing others, remind yourself that your coffee can of pieces will fill again. There will be another quilt at the back of your mind while you are piecing, quilting, and binding this one, which perhaps you will give to one of your daughters.

Another way of looking at the difference between memoir and autobiography is expressed by Gore Vidal in his memoir Palimpsest. "A memoir is how one remembers one's own life," he says, "while an autobiography is history, requiring research, dates, facts double-checked." Although some memoirs do, in fact, call for research, the verifiable facts are not generally as important as they are in autobiography, where the author includes much that is beyond the realm of memory.

I always quote when the original writer says it so well, I couldn't hope to do half as well myself.

If you ask me, I'd rather write a memoir than an autobiography -- the latter sounds a lot more work than it's worth. Seems to me I'd have to do loads of research for an autobiography and be meticulous about getting all my facts straight, whilst for a memoir all I need to do is write what I felt and how I saw things. Hey, I can do that! I'm already doing that, in fact. Isn't that what blogs are for? *grin*

Google also turned up the transcript of an interview with Nan Phifer, Associate Director of the Oregon Writing Project at the University of Oregon in the USA.

What's the difference between a memoir and an autobiography?

Autobiographies are usually linear, beginning with birth and continuing to the age of the writer. They include factual data that may, or may not, be interesting.

Memoirs are about the times when our feelings were intense, when we pulsed with caring, or knowing, or not knowing, with wanting, regretting, belonging, not belonging, stumbling, and transcending. Memoirs are about the times when we have been most keenly alive. In writing about those times, the writer often gains surprising insights. On reflection, we often see positive aspects of ourselves that we have failed to appreciate. We observe our intentions, strivings, sacrifice, patience, and the efforts we've made. Autobiographies focus more on events and achievements, life at the surface, while memoirs also reveal our dreams, frustrations, and satisfactions.

Because memoirs do not need to be written chronologically, they don't plod.

So there we have it. I always like having things crystal clear in my own mind; I'm quite disorganised in 'real life' but I prefer my thoughts to be orderly. My mother likes to say that a messy desk is the sign of a messy mind, but I always counter by saying that a clear desk is a sign that no work is getting done!

Linguistics is the science of language, and, as in any other field, copious amounts of research is being carried out all the time. The results of that research are published in -- where else? -- linguistics journals.

One of my assignments is to delve into those journals and choose an article to review. I was reading through a few articles tonight when I came across one that discussed how using computers to write has affected the quality of students' essay-writing. For one thing, the student no longer has to worry about making sure his handwriting is legible!

Research apparently points to the fact that students produce better-quality essays when using a computer to write instead of writing by hand. As a writer, this is interesting to me because I used to compose everything in longhand, using pen and paper -- university assignments included. After all, if you're going to have to sit down and write for three hours during the final exam, you might as well get used to it rather than type and print out your assignments.

It was only when I became a journalist that I began to compose on the computer. The transition went without a hitch, and I thought nothing of it. Soon after starting work as a journalist, I began blogging, and that kind of completed my 'conversion'.

Since I never thought anything of making the switch from pen and paper to electronic media, I'm intrigued by the idea that using the computer can result in better essays. Of course the fact that you can move text around pretty easily really helps. I think that's what I love most about using word-processing programs -- no messy scratched-out words and extra words squeezed in the middle of horizontal lines of text. If I write a paragraph and later decide it belongs somewhere towards the end of the essay, I can move the whole thing without any fuss.

Studies have found that editing features provided by computer word-processing programs give students "a sense of liberation", making them feel that written texts are now "infinitely malleable and changeable". Things like grammar-checkers and spell-checkers also make it easier for students to revise what they've written. The result? Better-quality writing.

Moreover, there's some conjecture that the way the computer monitor only displays a limited block of text makes the writer more focussed on particular portions of his writing at any one time. It seems that since you keep staring at that one chunk of text, you tend to pick out mistakes much more easily or pay more attention to grammar, spelling and punctiation. I wouldn't know about this, since writers are usually admonished against writing and editing at the same time. If you start thinking about technicalities in the middle of writing, you tend to get tangled up and impede the creative process. Better to get out whatever you want to say first, and worry about having said it correctly or clearly later. That's what revision and rewriting are for.

Finally, researchers believe that today's students appear to prefer composing on computers due to their familiarity with the medium. They're already used to playing computer games, surfing the internet, chatting on instant messenger, blogging, and goodness knows what else. So the act of using a computer to write makes them feel more confident, because they're familiar with how the thing works and know what it can do. In other words, it helps them approach writing with a positive attitude (as compared to how someone of my parents' generation might be intimidated by the mere idea of going anywhere near a computer, never mind using it to actually write something!).

All this makes me wonder whether the quality of my writing would drop if I were to transfer back to writing the 'traditional' way. Heheh.

Who knew a comic would have me scrambling for a dictionary?

Louche, adj.
Disreputable or dubious in a rakish or appealing way.
(Oxford English Dictionary)

When I was a child, whenever I asked my parents what a word meant, they'd say, "Look it up in the dictionary." Immensely aggravating, I can tell you. I admit that I wasn't always diligent; lots of times I'd just guess at the meaning from the context -- inimitable is a good example; I know the word but am not too sure what it means exactly.

But sometimes my curiosity would get the better of me. I have this indescribable desire to know, to discover, and I'd go get out our dictionary and look the word up, and breathe, "Ohhhh..." in a greatly enlightened tone of voice.

Today, I still happily look up the dictionary every time a word stumps me or looks particularly unfamiliar. With the Internet, this process has gotten even easier -- Dictionary.com is almost indispensible to me.

I'm fascinated by words and always enjoy discovering the more obscure ones, but I don't consciously use them to impress. Whenever I use a "big word", it's a case of my brain slotting in what it thinks is the most appropriate term to use rather than me choosing to favour a complex word over a simpler one. I think if you tend to slip in big words just because you can, it will tend to show in your writing; and I don't think it necessarily makes your writing any more impressive. Why say pulchritude, why not just say beauty? Using unnecessary big words can clutter up your piece, making it more difficult for readers to wade through the work. They distract readers and can hinder readers from grasping the overall message you are trying to convey.

I am having fun with The Complete Plain Words by Sir Ernest Gowers. Let me give you a peek into his world:

It has been wisely said that the adjective is the enemy of the noun. If we make a habit of saying 'The true facts are these', we shall come under suspicion when we profess to tell merely 'the facts'. If a crisis is always acute and an emergency always grave, what is left for those words to do by themselves? If active constantly accompanies consideration, we shall think we are being fobbed off when we are promised bare consideration. If a decision is always qualified by definite, a decision by itself becomes a poor filleted thing. If conditions are customarily described as prerequisite or essential, we shall doubt whether a condition without an adjective is really a condition at all. An unfilled vacancy may leave us wondering whether a mere vacancy is really vacant. If a part is always an integral part or a component part there is nothing left for a mere part except to be a spare part.

It's not always the writer's fault.

Where print media is concerned, readers only see the finished product and the author's name, and the author gets blamed for everything. Bad writing, poor grammar, incorrect spelling, misleading title/headline, obscure picture captions, misquoting sources, taking quotes out of context -- you name it, the writer's been accused of it. Sometimes it is our fault; at other times it's not.

I cringe when I hear people complain that reporters often get their facts wrong and take quotes out of context. When I was a journalist, I tried my utmost to get all my facts straight and my quotes correct. After all, I (and the paper) could be sued for misquoting someone. Aieeeee! I no money to hire lawyer to defend me, how???

Of course, there was that time I wrote that Ireland was part of the UK... *ducks to avoid rotten tomatoes*  My reasoning went like this: the IRA are fighting for Irish independence, right? So how can Ireland NOT be a part of the UK??

Unfortunately, this error occurred in the opening paragraph of the article (*cringes*) and, worse still, it was an article about the IMPAC Young Writers Award -- the winner gets to go to Dublin to attend the International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award (which was why I was talking about Ireland in the first place).

Needless to say, the Irish Ambassador was not pleased. *wince*

But... but! It wasn't always my fault. I remember the time my editor wanted me to approach a topic from a particular angle, which cast a rather negative light on the people involved. Imagine if you were to write about children (juveniles) who steal, and how they have no conscience about doing so and are even proud all the ways they have come up with to dodge detection and get away with it. Imagine if you were to write about this without touching on the fact that some have no choice but to steal food in order to survive, because their parents are drug addicts and cannot provide for them. That wouldn't be fair, right?

Not that this was my topic, but it's a good enough example. Well, my editor didn't want any of the mitigating factors, and cut out almost all the positive points I had managed to gather, leaving a very one-sided piece behind. The article went to print and you can imagine I had lots of very offended interviewees on my hands. They had been made to look bad, when I knew that they were not all bad. They had trusted me and I had let them down.

You know, the interesting thing about writers is -- we can't defend ourselves. Once the work is published, it's cast adrift on the seas of fortune, and we don't get the chance to explain why we chose to deal with the subject that way, why we took put that in or left that out, why we spoke with the people we spoke to, or didn't speak with others.

Of course, there are always author interviews, and letters to the newspaper editor, but by and large, you don't get a chance to justify your work. It has to sink or swim on its own merits. For good or ill... it's on its own now. And the reading public will judge you by it, errors and all.

I think the most important thing is for a writer to be able to he can live with himself, knowing that he gave his best, and be willing to learn from his mistakes. If it's not his fault, he has to be contented with the awareness that he, at least, knows it's not his fault. Never mind if the whole world is throwing brickbats at him; he knows the truth, and he can't let the criticisms get him down. All he can do is to faithfully go on writing.

 
**Suck it up: Slang. To cope with hardship or unpleasantness without complaining.
Definition from UrbanDictionary.com.

A friend has just asked to interview me regarding this blog o' mine, so I figured I'd better resurrect it from its watery grave. Well, well, half a month has passed without me writing here! How did that happen?

A combination of things. Deciding you will only write on certain topics is definitely rather limiting, especially if you have other blogs on which you can dump all manner of random stuff. Life has been getting in the way -- work, uni assignments, church camp, illness. And I haven't bothered to make myself write.

Yes, we would love to think that writing must come naturally, but sometimes it is a discipline just like anything else, and I need to make myself write. If I'm unlucky, it'll come out sounding forced and fake, but if I'm lucky (or very good!), it'll come out sounding as if I meant to write all along.

I do have at least four drafts sitting in the queue, so it's not like I have nothing to write about. We'll see what happens, okay? As JS Peyton says, "Even if it’s for an audience of one, I’ll try to be faithful." (Hint: This is where all you readers come out of the woodwork and tell me I have more than an audience of one. Quick, before my ego gets crushed into the dust, never to recover!)

I approached the newspaper this morning with some trepidation. Ever since Ee-Tan had told me that the article would be out today, I'd been working myself up into a froth of anxiety. I was sure I had given completely banal answers to all her questions. Why, oh why, couldn't I have been witter? Or come up with more original replies?

But when I read the article, I was amazed! Ee-Tan had taken all the various bits of info I had given to her, put them together, re-organised them, made them make sense, and written an article that 'flowed' beautifully. She even made me sound intelligent and articulate in the process. Suddenly I remembered something an interviewee once said to me: "Wow! You managed to write something like this out of all the random stuff I threw at you!"

I'd always taken it for granted -- the ability to produce a readable piece out of all the information in my hands. It never occurred to me that I was doing anything special. But this being the first time I've sat on the other side of the fence, I could finally see the whole process in reverse, as it were.

Now I'm left to marvel at Ee-Tan's skill. What an amazing thing it is to be a writer. To be able to write, and write well. To see connections where others don't, to weave bare facts into fascinating stories, to see through the jumble of words and hone in on the one element which will make the story memorable. It's a gift... and I am humbled.

I take back what I said last year. I am Nanowrimo-ing. Good grief.

Starting 12 days late, still with no plot, no characters and no novel inside me dying to be written, but who cares? I'm going to be completely silly and not worry about anything having to make sense. I'm going to worry about the word count least of all (famous last words from a person who didn't think she was competitive until she started playing Scrabble on Facebook!).

Erna was, of course, the influencing factor. She kept tempting me with mentions of dancing chimpanzees and such; it sounded too fun to miss out on.

Besides, it's been ages since I've allowed myself to let go in my writing. One of my school-going cousins let me read an essay of hers the other day and I realised that ever since I entered law school all my writing has been serious and fact-based. Of course, it didn't help that I became a journalist after graduating. I think I might have forgotten how to give free rein to my imagination. I'm such a control freak sometimes.

So I'm going to allow myself to be silly and write nonsense. I hope it'll be funny nonsense, then it'll at least have some redeeming value, but if not, well... c'est la vie!

Funnily enough, it's been two years since I last wrote for a living, but I still call myself a writer.

Heck, I still think of myself as a writer.

And I'm seriously considering taking up writing again as a means of putting food on the table. Having tried other ways of making a living, I find that writing is the one thing I can do that seems least like hard work. Everything else takes a great deal of effort (which is not to say that I cannot do those other things, just that I find them HARDER to do!).

I've always subscribed to the Confucian saying that if you find a job you love, you'll never need to work a day in your life; so, well, maybe something to do with writing is the key. Although I don't love writing the way a friend of mine does:

Writing is so much more than putting your train of thought in words. When I write, I feel transported, a kid again, playing with my King Kong toy.

I never feel like that. For me, the lure is the desire to get my thoughts across to the reader, helping them to see what I see, making them understand what I think and how I feel about an issue. It's about presenting ideas clearly, producing what journalists call "clean copy" -- a piece that is tight, coherent, smooth-flowing, and comprehensive -- a piece requiring little or no editing. It's about telling a story so well that the reader gets caught up in the story and forgets that it is made up of words, because all he can see is the story.

When I manage to do that, I feel quietly satisfied, as if I've done what I was placed on earth to do. It's almost as if writing were my raison d'être.

There's something about reading a written work aloud that strips it of all pretense and lays it bare. I remember my mom wresting a romance novel from my hands when I was 15. She declaimed it as "trash" and, flipping through its pages, proceeded to read certain passages aloud to me in a most disparaging voice.

Somehow, words that had danced and sung on the page seemed tawdry and clumsy when read out loud. For that reason, I've never tried to read a romance novel out loud. Ever. They've never been about good writing anyway, only fairy-tale worlds. Why tarnish the illusion?

Other works can't get away with the same excuse, however. The best pieces ought to be able to weave a spell and still be well-written. And good writing is good writing, no matter what the medium -- print or audio.

Having attended the 'Readings' at Seksan's on Saturday (an event where writers -- both published and unpublished -- read their works to an audience), I think I finally understand why all the writing advice I've heard keeps telling me to use adjectives sparingly. Too many adjectives clutter the piece and lose me when I'm listening. They're okay on the page, because then the reader has the chance to read at his own pace, absorb the image that is being painted, go back and re-read the description to let it sink in. But when something is being read aloud, at some point a bunch of adjectives get to be too much information.

I remarked to Erna that pieces with action or dialogue are probably more suitable for reading aloud to an audience, but she disagreed with me. Maybe it's just the person I am -- I don't have a high attention span when listening to somebody read or lecture, but I'm always captured by flashes of insight, emotion, humour, whimsy, movement, rhythm and rhyme.