Wednesday, December 30, 2009

From The Bookshelf Muse's blog (14 December 2009):


The Seven Deadly Sins of Novel Writing

In my mind, there are seven big things that can undermine a novel. I want to address them all, but to avoid having a post 8 miles long, I'll break them up so they each have their own real estate. Today let's look at the first sin on the list!

Sin#1: Low Stakes

Stakes are paramount in a novel - they force your character to act. High personal stakes create strong conflict because each choice or action will carry a hefty price. Low stakes lead to mediocre conflict and a risk that the reader will not care about the outcome.

Often low stakes can be attributed to two things:

1) The storyline lacks adequate conflict

Conflict is the key to holding the reader's attention and the driving force behind forward story movement and character investment. Pushing your character to clash with the forces against him or her is what gets the blood pumping - this is conflict! By infusing your story with scenes where characters experience heightened emotion and face powerful obstacles you not only create high stakes in your novel, you also raise them for the reader. Pages turn because your audience is drawn into the action, compelled to find out what happens next.

2) The writer doesn't push the characters hard enough

Sometimes the stakes are high, the consequences dire, the action bursting off the page ... and the character does not rise to the challenge. While indecision is often a large part of any thought process when facing difficult choices, it cannot overrun the character's actions. At some point, the character MUST COMMIT to a chosen course and put their all into it.

Other times, the writer sabotages the story because they care too much about a character to shove them in harm's way or force them to do the dirty work. If circumstances or another character always swoop in and save the day, the stakes flatline. CHARACTERS ARE NOT OUR CHILDREN. Never hesitate to throw them into the path of a bus. Only then can we really see what they are made of.

Can you think of other ways low stakes ruin a novel? Have you ever cared about a character so much you struggled to force them to face their fears?

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

I'm working on my New Year's Resolution now. I don't usually put much stock in it, because I end up breaking every one on the list anyway. But this time, I will become a vegetarian.

I know. It's laughable. Me, a vegetarian? I can't go a day without meat. But eating less meat brings about two benefits:

a) Less demand for meat - although this is rather insignificant, because I'm just one person. But if everyone ate less meat, less land needs to be cleared to rear cattle or other animals that provide meat. That means less forested areas need to be cleared. That means more trees and more wildlife!

b) Meat contains lots of carcinogens, which increases one's risk of getting cancer. Enough said.

So, yes. Vegetarian. I'll still eat fish and all that, of course. But no more chicken or pork or mutton or duck (I don't eat beef).

Anyway, I had a desperate desire to go to the Marina South Pier yesterday, so I dragged my butt all the way there. Had to take two buses to get there, one of which made me wait for half an hour. But I was dying for some sea air. Plus, it would be good inspiration for my work-in-progress, Red December Skies. I'm at page 120 now, still as excited about it as when I first started it. That feeling so reminds me of working on When the Lilies Turn Orange.

Just finished rewatching Mars yesterday. Am feeling empty now, because there are no other dramas that can match up to it. It's like reading a really good book, one of the best, and then not being able to find another that can quite match up to it. Ugh. Don't like this feeling. Can anyone recommend any other drama or book that has madness and romance in it? See why my first standalone novel (Lilies) is about madness and romance? There's not enough of such stories, which is why I'm writing them, if only to satisfy my own craving.

Friday, December 18, 2009

"Otherness is the refusal to acknowledge the validity of another's experience ... When I'm writing, I try to see the novel's events through the eyes of every single character in turn. Each of those characters has a worldview that is reasonable and cohesive to him or her - whether or not it is reasonable to anyone else."

~ Jennifer R. Hubbard, writer

Sunday, December 13, 2009

Thanks to Shiver (by Maggie Stiefvater, as mentioned in my previous post), my eyes have been opened to the beauty that is Rainer Maria Rilke's poems. Here are a couple of samples, two of my favourites:


Falling Stars

Do you remember still the falling stars
that like swift horses through the heavens raced
and suddenly leaped across the hurdles
of our wishes--do you recall? And we
did make so many! For there were countless numbers
of stars: each time we looked above we were
astounded by the swiftness of their daring play,
while in our hearts we felt safe and secure
watching these brilliant bodies disintegrate,
knowing somehow we had survived their fall.

(Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming)


Again And Again, However We Know The Landscape Of Love

Again and again, however we know the landscape of love
and the little churchyard there, with its sorrowing names,
and the frighteningly silent abyss into which the others
fall: again and again the two of us walk out together
under the ancient trees, lie down again and again
among the flowers, face to face with the sky.

(Translated by Stephen Mitchell)

Friday, December 04, 2009



Did I mention? Lei from Meteor Garden (played by Vic) is my muse for Jerry (from my work-in-progress, Patches of Blue Sky, now renamed to Red December Skies). So beautiful it hurts.

Wednesday, December 02, 2009

I'm thinking of taking EN2271 as one of my modules next semester -Introduction to Playwriting. The thing is, it would clash with another module I want to take, EL3245: Media, Discourse and Society. Moreover, I'm not very sure if I want to take this as one of my Unrestricted Electives. We're supposed to take 7 of them, as per the requirements of the University. So there are other modules like Introduction to Creative Writing and Introduction to Prose Writing, that I want to take as well, but they're not offered this coming semester. So should I tak EL3254?

Anyway, application for the module is exclusive. Online bidding is not enough. They want us to write three scenes (no longer than one page each) based on three words: Abdication, Vindication and Restitution. On top of that, attach a sample of another type of work, a short story or essay or sorts. Here's my attempt at Vindication.


There had never been any question about it. It was her fault. And for that, she was bound to him forever. Or at least, until she could assuage the guilt or until he forgave her, set her free. But the bonds were too tight; she could barely hope that they would ever snap.

“It’s your fault, Audrey.” He never let her forget that. “If only you hadn’t been there…”

He was drunk again. She remembered the last time he let his brain get addled with alcohol, and shuddered.

“Have you ever thought of getting a job, Ryan?” She had to approach gently. He was too volatile these days.

“A job?” He barked a laugh. “What can a cripple like me work as?”

“You aren’t crippled. You just can’t play anymore.”

He turned to her, his eyes flashing dangerously. “And whose fault is it that I had to give up the piano? And now you’re finding me a nuisance? Am I in your way, Audrey? Am I robbing you of a life?”

“No.” She took his hands. “I didn’t mean that. You know I didn’t –”

“I was meant to do great things, be world-famous.” A hazy glimmer settled in his faraway gaze.

When she noticed the hardening of his jaw, it was too late. He had grabbed hold of her. She braced herself for the incoming tide. But instead of hitting her, he took her face and pressed his lips against hers. The smell of alcohol made her gag, but she tried not to struggle.

It’ll be over soon. It’ll be over soon.

But his hands were running all over her now. He gripped her more tightly when she writhed. Her breathing was labored now, as the panic that spread from within her became a blanket of goosebumps. Her skin crawled wherever his hands and lips roamed.

“It’s your fault, Audrey.”

“Please stop. Please.”

“But don’t you see? It’s your fault.” His voice was muffled against her skin.

She imagined herself engulfed by the toxic cloud of guilt, the one that numbed her senses so that she was unable to bring herself to leave him. She choked on it, reveled in it.

Later, she would tell herself it was that cloud of guilt that made her grab his hair and swing his head against the edge of the coffee table. It was that cloud of guilt that made her deaf to the crack of his skull, blind to the crimson river that poured out of him, stained his face.

Right then, she stared down at him, her bloody angel, whom she once loved. She could think of nothing apart from the music he played, a hushed melody that she feared to forget.


Yes, I know. I felt a bit disturbed when I was writing it too. A sort of sinister sadism, or should I say masochism.

On a lighter note, I'm re-watching Meteor Garden. Falling in love with Lei all over again (and of course, Jerry - he slays me, he really does). Did I mention? He's my muse for Patches of Blue Sky. The silent, beautiful boy you feel so protective of you actually ache for him. Oh, Lei. I really think Vic is the perfect choice for the character. Like Jerry said, he looks like he walked out of the manga (Meteor Garden was based on the Japanese manga, Hana Yori Dango). I won't describe him because no words can describe the beauty of the broken, tender-hearted character. But I'm enjoying writing Patches of Blue Sky (change title asap!) because I can't stop swooning over the male lead, whom I've decided to name Jerry *wink*

Friday, November 27, 2009

This is what I've been doing for the past week, preparing for my Sociology exam (3 essays in 2 hours):

http://write-raven.livejournal.com/4162.html

http://write-raven.livejournal.com/4499.html

Despite the an-essay-a-day routine in the week leading up to the most dreaded SC2210 exam on Tuesday (24/11/09), my writing still left much to be desired. Maybe it's because I was required to churn out 3 essays instead of the 1 that I was used to, in JC. For GP, we had an hour and a half to write a properly thought-out essay that you could spare maybe the last 20 minutes editing. But the SC2210 paper was like a Human Geog essay, where I was scribbling so furiously my hands cramped up pretty badly. Not fun. Really, it took away all the fun of writing an essay. Plus, I noticed the length of my essays gradually got shorter and shorter. I was so drained by the end of it. Maybe I've fallen out of the essay-writing momentum. Writing Geog essays is good training. Makes you hardier, because you've endured the agony, the hardship. Builds up your mental stamina ... that falls to bits after a year of slacking.

But the Philo and New Media exams were MCQ, and so is English (this coming Monday), which gave me some breathing space. After the rigour of the JC curriculum, uni feels like a huge relief (apart from the tiresome projects). For now, at least. I don't want to jinx the coming semesters.

Anyway, I've decided to put off Mint for now and focus on Patches of Blue Sky (need to change title soon!), because Mint doesn't seem to have much of a solid plot despite my upbeat note not too long ago about the summary-equals-strong-foundation bullshit. It wasn't quite as painful as I'd expected it to be, probably because I've neglected it for so long (thanks to schoolwork) that I was practically detached from my characters.

Still, good news is, Patches is taking shape very nicely. There's a proper pacing thanks to an element I've decided to incorporate, and the words flow relatively easily (for now - not about to jinx anything!), more easily than for Bedful of Moonlight, almost as easily as When the Lilies Turn Orange. Yiruma's music is a drug, is all I can say.

Triv told me she'd read a couple of my 'stories' that I'd written prior to my first proper novel, Lilies. The word is in inverted commas because, as aforementioned, I don't regard anything I've written before Lilies a proper, publishable story that I'm particularly proud of. So she read High Grounds - which I wrote when I was 15 - and said she could see the improvement from that to my subsequent novels, which is one thing good that came out of it, I suppose. Writing High Grounds was actually fun, despite the many cringe-worthy bits. I enjoyed creating the drama, weaving the romance and spinning the catty betrayals. But in retrospect, it is too run-of-the-mill teen series, very OC-ish, The Clique-ish in my book and very 90210-ish in Triv's (I don't watch that show, so I don't know). Still, when I was writing that, I didn't have being published in mind, because then, I was still under the impression that you needed lots of money for start-up fee to get published: paying the literary agents, the editors, etc. So I was writing that purely for my own enjoyment.

But later, after writing Lilies, I decided I wanted an audience, or at least some people to tell me how they felt when they read my story. So I researched more on publishing, and found out - whaddya know - you don't need any start-up fee, just loads of dedication, perseverance, a tough hide and a willingness to learn - and, of course, the discipline to actually crank out those words.

That's what NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) is all about, isn't it? I did think of taking part in it this year, but because November is a hectic month for those in uni, I didn't have the time to embark on the 50k marathon (the idea is to write a 50,000-word novel in a month - that, as they say, involves lots of caffeine).

But that's okay. I'm not the type who forces myself to stare at the computer screen till my eyes bleed, just so I can write the 5 pages I tell myself to write everyday. Some days the words just get the better of you, and some days you can grasp them in your palm. Ultimately, the writer is the one in absolute control of the way his or her novel turns out. And the best thing is, there are so many possibilities. That's scary, in a way, but also what makes creative writing so exciting. I realised it's the only - well, one of the only few - things that actually makes me feel like life is worth living. Some people work hard for the money, for the designer Coach wallets, for the photos of them clubbing that they can stick on Facebook and have everyone comment on it. Others prefer staying at home, Yiruma replaying on the stereo, and creating a world that is entirely their own.

Guess that is the main reason why I am, to quote Chooyan, 'so single I don't even have a has-been', 'as evergreen (a term uni people fancy when referring to themselves or others who have been single since forever) as Bukit Timah Reserve'.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Was in a strange mood yesterday. Maybe I'm just tired of being lonely, tired of never being able to meet up with everyone at one go, tired of not knowing what to say when we're together, tired of the monotony, tired of my numbed state of mind. I want to love, to laugh, to cry like I used to, to hurt, to feel the heightened turmoil of emotions overwhelm me. Do we get so desensitised as we grow older that we hardly respond to anything anymore, that we forget how to love and hate, to feel the pain like we used to, when our worlds were smaller and everything in it swelled in significance as a result?

After lying in bed, staring at the blank wall for an hour, I couldn't stand it. Just had to get it out somehow. So I penned this. It's kind of raw, but it's the only way I knew how to put it.


What do you do
On the nights you have no-one
To love,
The nights you cling
To your pillow for warmth,
Hoping time will fill up
The space next to you?
You lie on your side,
Facing the wall,
Because that is easier
Than looking at the mouth
Of darkness,
Shadows stretched
Into a distorted version of reality,
Ready to swallow you whole.
The baseless ground shakes -
Or is that just your heart,
Trembling,
Inching towards the edge,
About to burst
Into a million tears?

It is only
3a.m.


I just want to thank all my friends - you know who you are - who have been with me for so long, despite everything. I don't do this enough, I know. But I do love you, every one of you who have shared so much - or at least, my version of much - with me.

Saturday, November 07, 2009

EL1101E DW8 and the wonderful Dr Mie:







Friday, November 06, 2009

Update 1: Last EL1101E tutorial on Tuesday. We gave Dr Mie a card in which we all wrote little notes, and she was so touched she cried. Which made me cry. There is something inherently infectious about seeing someone cry. More so when they cry with joy. But Mie Sensei is one of the nicest teachers I've ever met. So genuine and earnest. I'm glad to have her as a teacher. Thank you, Mie Sensei!

Update 2: I had a dream on Wednesday night, where my best friend died and I was crying and moping all over the place, and my dad remarked, "If you go around with a gloomy face, no boy is ever going to look at you." Surreal.

Update 3: Yes. I have decided to take part in Nanowrimo. A lot of authors don't seem to be (eg, Sarah Dessen and Erica Orloff), but I figured, what the hell, might as well try it. Although I probably won't be able to complete a 50,000-word (minimum) novel in a month, seeing as how my exams are in two and half weeks' time. I'm submitting a completely new story that I don't remember if I've mentioned here before. It's tentatively titled Patches of Blue Sky, and currently stands only at 1,700-odd words, 8 pages. Yes. Infant stages. I'd given up on Mint for a while - the evil mid-story goblin ate up my words, slowing down my progress; it always happens in the middle of the story - but came up with a 50-word summary during Cultural Studies lecture on Wednesday. I'd initially decided to give up on it because I decided it didn't have enough of a plot to go on, but now that I've come up with a solid stripped-down summary of it, there's a renewed impetus to pull through.

Update 4: My prolonged absence from this blog was a result of drama addiction. Don't flagellate me for it. Dramas have such a massive cult following for a reason; they're described as addictive for a reason. I'm not at the Boys Before Flowers stage yet, though, and I don't think I ever will be, because I just can't watch a show where I'm not interested in the characters. The only Korean drama I've ever watched was when I was, say, 12? And I've not been enticed to watch any others ever since. I don't know why. I don't have anything against anything Korean, but it just doesn't appeal to me. I just finished watching Starlit yesterday, starring His Royal Hotness Jerry Yan. It was ... well ... good, if you like the type of dramas where the girl dies in the end. I don't, but it's a really good show. Dead romantic, of course, otherwise I wouldn't be gushing about it so much. And Jerry was HOT, as usual. He does well in this sort of roles, the sweet and devoted boyfriend roles. Makes me more in love with him. Anyway, I didn't expect Starlit to be this nice, but I was dying for a slice of Jerry, so I decided to watch it even though the first 2 episodes didn't hook me in straight away. I'm glad I stuck through, though, because it's quite a rewarding show.

Now. No more dramas until your exams are over, Joyce. Just one more month.

I miss Jerry already.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

New development in Mars that has left me in tears:

It turned out the girl had been raped by her stepfather in the past. That's why she's afraid of her boyfriend, afraid to get physical with him. Her boyfriend suspected she might have been raped and pretended to try to get physical, but she screamed and cried and his worst fears were confirmed.

She ran and hid in one corner of his apartment, sobbing. And he quietly asked her who did it. And then he teared up. His head was bent down and his tears slid down the bridge of his nose. I think I mentioned before how Vic's acting really impressed me. This really blew me away.

I know a lot of people who aren't impressed by Taiwanese dramas, but I think back on all the times I'd scoffed at those dramas and realise how much I've missed out. Think of all the three-dimensional characters I could have come up with, and the plotlines I could have gleaned. Think how much richer that would have made my stories.

Mars is really something, if not mind-blowing.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

I had a strange dream last night.

Someone had committed suicide. Jumped off the building. I was there at the first level, standing before the elevator that looked uncannily like that at the NUS Co-op. I didn't know the guy who jumped, but his younger brother was there, sitting on the stone steps, rocking. I didn't know him either, but I approached him and asked him how he was doing. Which was a stupid thing to ask, I know, but I had to start somewhere.

He was disinclined to speak to me initially, but after some gentle prodding, he gave me his name. Strangely, I can still remember it. It was so distinct. Michael. Michael Tam. I don't know any Michaels - or any whom I'm remotely close to, at least - much less a Michael Tam. But what rocked me was the way he spoke to me. He was afraid to do anything, not even say a word, because he didn't know what else might happen if he did.

And today, I watched Mars. It turned out the guy's twin brother killed himself by jumping off the building.

Monday, October 12, 2009

I've been busy these few days.

Busy collecting ideas.

This might come as a shock, but I'm watching a Taiwanese drama series called Mars now. It stars Vic Zhou and Barbie Hsu (or however you spell their names). This sudden addiction to drama series was sparked by my sudden reminiscence that led me to watch Meteor Garden again. I remember how it was all the rage when I was about 11 or 12. Everyone watched it, or at least had heard of it. My friends and I were nuts about it, if only because it was so darn romantic. I know, what did we know about romance at the age of 11 or 12, right? But it's not like I'm any wiser about it now, at 19, so what the hell.

I'd intended to take a detached view this time round. I'd laugh at the cheesy lines and cringe-worthy acting. Honestly, I don't even know what made me decide to watch it. Maybe it's the drought that's come over the romantic genre. No romance novels, no romance TV shows. It is inherently a feminine desire, I suppose, to crave such ostensibly frivolous escapism.

So I watched it.

I did laugh at the cheesy lines. But what surprised me was how well-developed the characters were. As a writer - as well as an emotionally more matured person than I was at 11 (I hope) - it struck me immediately how special each character was. No two characters had the same personality, and each was conveyed through their actions and speech. There was subtlety in that, and I found myself drawn in by the show once again.

I remember how I rooted for Si (this arrogant a-hole who rules the school, along with his 3 other friends that forms the legendary F4) and the female protagonist, SC. But this time round, I found Lei (oh, Lei...) the more matured one, the more noble one, the more tenderhearted and long-suffering one.

Just after a few episodes of watching how Vic conveyed his character (I was more impressed by his acting skills than I'd originally expected), I slept on it and came up with a Shiny New Idea for a new story. I'd thought of a plot beforehand, that day when I went to the pier with my dad, but I was lacking in the character department. I had the conflict, and the setting, but the characters were still the stiff, two-dimensional stick figures I kept coming up with. This might be it. This might be the key to creating someone I had never dealt with before.

Oh, and I watched Meteor Garden 2 after finishing the first one. And can I just say that it really wasn't as good as the first. It was too draggy, and Si's amnesia was overly dragged out (spanning 15 episodes or so). Plus, they introduced this new girl (played by Michelle Saram) who was supposed to be Si's new love interest. Everyone protested vehemently then, and swore they would boycott the show if Si didn't end up with SC. So the producers had to change the scenes a little and let them end up together after all. Thank goodness. But that leaves my brokenhearted Lei all alone again. I actually cried several times while watching it, believe it or not. I don't usually cry over romance movies because I'm unable to relate to the situation or the characters, but Vic's acting and the storyline (where SC was left bereft because Si had fallen for someone else, after ALL that they've been through) was incredibly moving. So, yes. I am a sap. I am a woman, emotional and irrational. And now I need my fix of romantic narratives.

So I'm watching Mars now. It's a lot like the story I'm planning out now, about two damaged people who find the future in each other. Mars is about this bad boy motorbike racer who has a dark secret, and who falls in love with a shy, autistic girl. His twin committed suicide and his mother died when he was 5, and he's deeply traumatised by their deaths, so much so that he displays sudden violent tendencies and had been locked in a psych ward by his father before. So the story's about how the two of them make each other face their fears and dark pasts, and lean towards each other when their inner demons get the better of them. It's a lot more intense than Meteor Garden, obviously, but I prefer MG, because of the comic relief and the romance (oh, Lei...), though Mars is shaping up to be just as good.

Friday, October 02, 2009

I just have to post this excerpt from Sarah Dessen's blog (25 Sept '09):

This week, I went to do a little fall shopping for my daughter. She needed jeans, so I headed to Gap, because they were having a sale and keep sending me coupons. (How can I resist, I ask? How?) Anyway, I found a cute pair I liked and went to double check the size. Then I saw they were called ... Boyfriend Jeans. For a two year old? REALLY? I mean, I get it: there are also bootcut, and flare, and skinny (which is a whole other topic, don't even get me started on skinny jeans for toddlers). There's just something about the word BOYFRIEND being associated with my baby that is just plain weird. I pointed it out to the guy who was working the register. "I mean, she shouldn't HAVE a boyfriend at this age," I said. He agreed, and added, helpfully, "And if she did, she shouldn't be wearing his jeans." Amen, brother. Amen!

I just thought that was really funny. Also, thanks to the book prize I got from SA, I just bought my copy of Along for the Ride! It takes place in Colby, also the setting for Keeping the Moon, one of my favourites from her. Can't wait to read it. Lovelovelove Sarah Dessen.

Right now, I'm reading Dark Places, by Gillian Flynn, the author of the MULTI award-winning book, Sharp Objects. And can I just say that I am totally blown away? The writing style is gritty, as usual, and so much more compelling than her debut novel, which is saying a lot. It's about this girl, Libby Day, who testified that her older brother killed off her entire family, when she was 7 (I think). Right now, broke, she chances upon this Kill Club (a club where impassioned people come together and discuss a case and try to take matters into their own hands and get to the bottom of unsolved mysteries), which is willing to fund her revisitation of the crime. As the novel progresses, Libby finds that maybe her testimony was a mistake, after all.

The thing about this novel is that it's not just any old whodunit. It explores the dynamics of the Day family, and analyses what went wrong - is it the irresponsible, absent father who is a drunkard and gambler, or the weak mother who can't make decisions or makes bad ones and is always waiting for someone to save her and solve her problems? Or it is simply the fact that they're poor farmers who haven't seen enough food or money for years now? Is that why the kids, especially Ben (Libby's older brother) turned towards Devil-worship and became estranged from his family?

Plus, Gillian displays her writing chops by inserting chapters throughout the story in which the day on which the murder took place is told through a third-person narration of the characters (Ben, Patty - his mother, Runner - his father). Wow, that was a long-ass sentence. I apologise for that. What I mean is, chapter 1 - Libby (1st-person), chapter 2 - Ben (3rd-person), chapter 3 - Libby (1st-person), chapter 4 - Patty (3rd-person), etc. You get the idea. It's absolutely brilliant how Gillian was able to oscillate between these different forms of narratives. It takes A LOT of skill. You have to make sure the details tally, like what Libby learns NOW corresponds with what went down that day, 2 Jan 1985. Very skillful. And Libby's voice is consistent throughout the story - gritty, cynical, desensitised, although a vulnerable side peeks out at times.

My goodness. This woman is a genius. Thank you, wonderful writers like Gillian Flynn, Alice Hoffman and Sarah Dessen, for producing such top-rate literary works. Gillian's Sharp Objects won two Dagger Awards, and was a finalist for the Edgar Awards. Wow. For a DEBUT. Of course, she's probably written many more books before this and have a lot of unpublished manuscripts in her drawer. Still, her debut novel. Wow. Just wow. Go, you.
I'm in my Philosophy lecture now. The number of people turning up for lecture seems to be dwindling week by week. Well. Apart from one reason that I won't mention here, the other is that there's webcast for it, so that's probably why some people don't really see the need to turn up for it physically.

Anyway, I just had my Sociology of Pop Culture tutorial, where we discussed pop culture icons in representing gender and ethnicity. It was rewarding, to say the least. For our Sociology tutorial, we generally just sit in a classroom and then take turns proposing an idea each, with the tutor starting the ball rolling. He gave Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles as a representation of Asian American masculine figures. Some others proposed the idea of a shift towards androgyny in fashion trends (eg, boyfriend blazers and jeans, etc), as well as a move towards curveless models. Someone else talked about Barbie dolls as a representation of the ideal female, with her Kelly doll, so she's seen as a mother figure, whereas Ken doll drives a car and looks cool and often isn't sold with the Kelly doll, so it seems as though he doesn't have any responsibilities. Which is a really cool way of looking at it. The whole Barbie, Ken and Kelly doll package also represents the traditional family with heterosexual parents. And lately, Barbie has been modified to look like a real woman, and other forms of Barbie have also been created to encompass other ethnicities.

I talked about Disney's princesses, like Jasmine and Snow White. There wasn't enough time to talk about Ariel, because I also talked about Victoria's Secret Angels. 'Angels' - deification of women by males in a male-driven industry (backstage crew is mostly comprised of males). The Angels pander to male fetishes, the male gaze, but also send out messages of female empowerment because they have curves (eg, Doutzen Kroes, one of my favourite models) and are tanned, toned and strong (eg, Alessandra Ambrosio). Lately, though, VS is moving towards skinnier models like Miranda Kerr (only like her face, but not her body, because it's so skinny I feel awkward for her when I look at her). I don't like this trend. VS models are the only models I like, because they look strong yet feminine. Why feature skinny minnies like Miranda Kerr when we already have (way too many) catalogue models like Chanel Iman and Kate Moss? So what does this all say about the male gaze? And the heightened female consciousness of that male gaze? Why are we so conscious of how we look, as compared to guys, who just pull on a polo shirt and berms and are so secure in their skin? Male ego is one thing, but I think women are still inherently dependent on men, so they still see having a soulmate as their ultimate goal for security in life. Males are more financially and physically independent, so they don't care for that as much as women do.

For Jasmine, she's one of the sexiest Disney princesses, and on YouTube, I see how guys slobber over her. So even if she's in her ethnic costume, her outfit is sexually suggestive. Plus, even though she fends off Jafar's advances throughout the show, she ends up using her feminine wiles to distract him so that Aladdin can save the day. She also, despite being Oriental, has Western ideas of freedom and Aladdin is therefore the person who represents adventure and escapism, and she ends up running off with him and ignores her father's wishes of arranged marriage.

Snow White is constantly pining for her damn prince, wishing he'd sweep her off in his white horse and save her. She does end up being saved by him too, as does Sleeping Beauty, so does that suggest that women are the weaker sex and can only be saved ultimately by men? Plus, Snow White offers to do the domestic chores for the 7 short little men so that she can stay with them, because them 7 little guys, being guys, are portrayed as being unable to clean up after themselves and shouldn't be bothered with it, since the male duty is to go out and work (in the mines, in the dwarves' case) and then come home and have dinner ready for them. And her beauty, demureness and domesticity even wins over Grumpy.

And then someone else talked about magazines like Cleo and 17, and how it defined the feminine identity, etc etc. And someone else mentioned gay culture and pointed out how it's not so in the closet anymore, and how butches in girls' schools are idolised, while effeminate guys get their asses kicked in boys' schools as the ass-kickers assert their masculinity, etc etc. Other magazine examples include T3, some cars and girls magazines for guys. Someone said the girls have absolutely nothing to do for the cars, but the tutor suggested the power of the cars is translated into a (phallic) power to attain the girls. Okay, so there is a link after all, if you put it that way. Objectification of women is still a prevalent practice now - jeez, guys.

And then there was the James Bond example, where the women are given horribly degrading names like Octopussy (my lips curl in disgust). But a reversal of roles is observed, when Halle Berry in Die Another Day was the one in a bikini (or, as Ris Low says, 'bigini') coming out of the water, it is now Daniel Craig coming out of the water in his tighties in Casino Royale.

Sex and the City was mentioned too, as was Desperate Housewives, and it was pointed out how that triggered and fuelled the trend of 'cougarism'. Sarah Jessica Parker's character, Carrie Bradshaw, was the one who dreamt about marrying Mr Big - thereby reinforcing the idea of marriage as something that completes a woman, as the ultimate goal that women should strive towards - while Kim Cattrall's character, Samantha Jones, was the cougar who spied on her neighbour changing. Desperate Housewives promotes promiscuity, because of the proliferate affairs - clandestine or otherwise so - throughout the show.

And then we moved on to talking about the representation of women by the media. There were only 4 guys in our class, so it sort of felt like a women's book group when we talked about the model issue and how they are becoming skinnier, etc. While curves were celebrated in the past (see Brigitte Bardot, Marilyn Monroe, etc), thin is in now, as seen by examples like Chanel Iman (go google her if you don't know who she is), Jessica Stam and Agyness Deyn. I like Doutzen Kroes because she's got an angelic face, but womanly curves. Her beauty is breath-taking. Oh, and am I the only who thinks she kinda resembles Carolyn Murphy?

We talked about a lot more, like Buffy and Grey's Anatomy, The OC, Gossip Girl, Britney Spears and Madonna, etc. It's so cool how we get to talk about that and analyse all these pop culture icons for school.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Posted by Rachelle Gardner, literary agent, on Tuesday, September 22, 2009:

Chasing Your Dreams

Over the weekend when I was at the conference, my ten-year-old had a gymnastics meet which I was bummed to miss, but Brian texted me her scores on each event, and he took video so I could see her performances. (I put one on YouTube.)

Now, if you watch my daughter doing gymnastics, you might not think it looks like anything special, particularly if the only gymnastics you've ever seen is in the Olympics. (Just like Little League baseball doesn't look like much when you're used to watching the Colorado Rockies.) She's been quite successful competing and has won 1st place in several competitions, but there's a good chance she's average for her age and competition level. Nevertheless, she has Olympic dreams. She's as passionate about gymnastics as I've ever been about anything in my life. She loves it and she's driven and I'm not about to discourage her.

Part of me wishes I could give her some perspective, encourage her to dream more realistically. I don't want her to base her whole life on a dream that has little chance of coming true. Yet, aren't we supposed to dream big?

I would never say anything to make her think I don't believe in her. If the Olympics aren't in the cards, that's for her to discover, not for me to predict. And if my daughter eventually has to deal with disappointment, then who am I to deprive her of that crucial and character-building process? Only she can figure out how to handle it. Only she can decide what new dream will replace the old one.

She works very hard, practices diligently and has excellent coaching. But there's an element to gymastics that can't be taught, some magical inborn talent that you either have, or you don't. It's the magic fairy dust factor. I'm not sure whether my daughter has it or not; I suspect she has at least a little, but I don't know how far it will carry her. No matter how hard she works, to some extent her success is at least partially determined by what she was born with.

So that's the way I see writing. Lots of people can do it; many are passionate and driven. Many have big dreams. Some may not work hard enough; some may not have the magic fairy dust to carry them as far as they'd like. But I don't want to discourage people. I want to keep encouraging, keep cheering people on in their writing dreams.

Regardless of whether all your dreams will come true, this is your process. It's your life. Whether it brings you joy or pain or the more likely combination of both, still, it's yours. If you go through disappointment, I hope you will grow from it. If you experience heartbreak, I pray you'll heal and be stronger. If you have triumphs and success, I hope it brings you the satisfaction you crave.

Whatever happens, however this journey goes for you, be assured you're not on the wrong path if you are pursuing a passion and willing to work hard. Go for it. It's all yours.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

I've just finished reading The Secret Life of Prince Charming, by the ever-talented Deb Caletti, the author of Wild Roses and Honey, Baby, Sweetheart. My library card was full, but this nice lady (a mother, who was borrowing books for her pre-schooler) allowed me to use hers.

And as usual, Deb did not disappoint. My favourite is still Wild Roses - her best yet - but Prince is pretty good too. It's about this girl called Quinn, who grew up in a house full of ladies who have had their hearts broken by men - her mom, her aunt Annie, her grandma. They warn her against men, but she refuses to start getting cynical about love at the age of 17. She and her younger sister Sprout have just reunited with their father 3 years ago and are starting to know him. Quinn is hopeful, eager to find a bond with her father, and in awe of him, the performer (part of a circus band called the Jafarabad Brothers, or something like that). Sprout, however, is loyal to their mother and distrustful of their father. She's frustrated that Quinn can't see their father for the egotistical jerk he is. He loves no-one but himself.

When one day, Quinn finds a room full of prized items that she discovers were stolen from the women in her father's life, she decides to hunt down her half-sister, Frances Lee, who persuades her to go on a karmic quest to return those items to their rightful owners.

Along the way, Quinn meets Jake Kennedy, Frances Lee's younger brother (who's the same age as Quinn). And can I just say that he's the latest fictional character I've fallen in love with. He looks like a bad boy, with the serpent tattoo on his arm and those smouldering good looks (of course, Deb didn't use this expression to describe him - how cliched would that be?). But he once said to Quinn, "You're not the only one looking for something true." He's a sensitive soul who's had his heart broken before and just wants to find a love that is true and pure and simple. This is reminiscent of Cassie Morgan and Ian Water's love in Wild Roses. It's so heartbreakingly pure and uncomplicated - only Deb can create a love story like that. Plus, the guys aren't sappy. They're tender but they're not clingy or mushy; they joke around like Michael Moscovitz and have no underlying motives. They're so pure of heart it's almost impossible. But what is fiction but delightful escapism sometimes, eh?

Throughout the story, there are excerpts from the women in Quinn's father's lives, who reveal the loves - good and bad - they had in their lives. Once again, Deb Caletti has delivered a poignant, lighthearted gem of a story.


Right now, I'm on page 75 of The Story Sisters, the latest book by Alice Hoffman (yes, the Alice Hoffman who went nuts because some book critics didn't deliver such nice comments about her book - suprisingly unprofessional of her). Hoffman's writing style is almost one of a kind. I've read Practical Magic before, and it's like she's in a world of her own. In a good way. There's a heavy use of natural imagery, almost magical and detached from the real world, even though her stories do take place in our world. There's a sort of ethereal, otherworldly quality to her books. This is an exerpt from The Story Sisters:

The town was thick with Virginia creeper, wisteria, weeds that suddenly grew three feet tall. It had been that kind of summer. There were thunderstorms and hail. The news reported a strange rain of live frogs one wet, humid night. Children ran out with mayonnaise jars to capture them the way they used to catch fireflies. The air felt electric, sultry; it pressed down on you and made you want to sleep, turn away from your troubles, tell yourself lies.

Practical Magic, as you know, had been made into a movie starring Nicole Kidman and Sandra Bullock. It's about these two sisters brought up by their aunts who practice witchcraft. Nicole played Gillian, the rebel, while Sandra played Sally, the sensible one who lost her first and only love (her husband) in a magical accident. There isn't much of a plot in the story. The interesting part where they're trying to hide their practice from a cop (who eventually falls in love with Sally) wasn't expounded upon. But the captivating, enchanting way in which Hoffman creates her prose compensates for that.

For The Story Sisters, however, there are both plot and good writing - a tremendously lethal combination. The main characters are the three sisters, Elv (16), Meg and Claire (12), but Elv steals the show, so to speak. She's the one who created an Otherworld called Arnelle, and even came up with the language Arnish. Arnelle exists underground, resided by faeries, goblins and the Queen who is looking for a successor to the throne. Elv used to entertain the girls in her school, as well as her sisters, with these stories. But soon, after getting kidnapped on an outing with Claire one day, something changes in her. She falls deeper into this world she has created, and becomes more detached from the real world. She experiments with sex, drugs and the like, gets herself tattooed, cuts herself and sneaks out every night in search of experiences that will prove herself to the Queen that she is a worthy successor.

While Claire completely looks up to Elv, and wants nothing more than to be like her, Meg grows apart from her eldest sister and into a life of normalcy, of French club meetings and college catalogs, school newspapers and painting lessons. Ever since that incident where Elv and Claire set loose a horse in the park (those that people pay to ride around), which eventually got shot because it was causing lots of chaos, with Claire on its back. Claire broke both of her arms and the horse died, but Elv thinks she saved it. She believes it has gone to a better place, to Arnelle, where she imagines she would see him once she finds out how to cross over to the other side.

I know, it's really messed up. It's like she has schizophrenia, detached from reality, delusions of grandeur. The works. But it's so disturbing it's alluring. If I wasn't all that impressed by Hoffman's talent in Practical Magic, I definitely am now.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Joyce's List of Fictional Characters She's Fallen in Love With:

1. Michael Moscovitz (the Princess Diaries series, by Meg Cabot, duh)
2. Edward Cullen (the Twilight series by Steph Meyer, duh)
3. Rob Wilkins (1800-where-r-you series, by Meg Cabot writing as Jenny Carroll)
4. Luke Brandon (the Shopaholic series, by Sophie Kinsella)
5. Ian Waters (Wild Roses, by Deb Caletti)
6. Wes (The Truth About Forever, by Sarah Dessen)
7. Marcus Flutie (the Jessica Darling series, by Megan McCafferty - I'm DYING to read Perfect Fifths, but I can't seem to find it!!! It's killing me!)
8. Shrimp (the Gingerbread series, by Rachel Cohn)
9. Raoul (Phantom of the Opera, by Gaston Leroux)
10. Jesse (the Mediator series, by Meg Cabot writing as Jenny Carroll)
11. Jacob Black (the Twilight series - he's not the male lead, though; I just like his character, but I'm not really swooooooning over him)

I just realised I seem to fall in love mostly with guys from book series.
Personal life

Mia's friends include best friend Lilly Moscovitz, Tina Hakim Baba, Shameeka Taylor, Perin and Ling Su Wong. Lilly is seen as an overly critical person, who although probably wants what's best for Mia, is always getting into arguments with her.

Love interests throughout the books have been Josh Richter, Kenny Showalter, Michael Moscovitz (Lilly's brother) and J.P.(John Paul Reynolds Abernathy IV) who was only a friend, until he proclaims his love for Mia.

1. Josh Richter was definitely a mistake. He only wanted publicity for himself.

2. Kenny Showalter was Mia's biology lab partner. Apparently he developed a liking for her while watching her copy his homework. Mia had hoped that her secret admirer was Michael Moscovitz, though it was really Kenny the whole time.

3. J.P., also known as The Guy Who hates it when They Put Corn In The Chilli, was madly in love (or so he says) with Mia. In the tenth book, it turns out, he was just using Mia as publicity for his play.

(And ... drumroll, please.)

4. Michael was Mia's main boyfriend in almost all the books. He is the only guy who actually loves Mia for who she is and not because she is royal. Getting together with him at a formal in the book "Princess in Love", making the mistake of breaking up with him in "Princess on the Brink". Though, in the last book, on prom night, Michael and Mia get back together, have sex and are still currently dating.

~ Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mia_Thermopolis
Oh, wait! I forgot to mention something.

Apparently, Mia and Lana Weinberger (yes, THE Lana Weinberger, snotty spoilt cheerleader who used to make Mia's life hell) are now friends. Close, almost-best friends. What an odd twist of circumstance.
I found 'Forever Princess' by Meg Cabot, the last Princess Diaries book, in the library the other day. So I thought, what the heck, even though I completely dislike it when Mia's with JP (BECAUSE SHE BELONGS WITH MICHAEL!!!) I'll read this last one, just to see what happens in the end.

And it was TOTALLY worth it. (Excuse my ensuing infantile vociferations. I'm revisiting my early teenage years.)

I know. Laugh all you want, at me still crazy about the Princess Diaries series. But even though I first read it when I was 11 or so, reading Forever Princess NOW reminds me of why I was completely nuts about it. I'm getting all fan-girl squealy at random intervals, and have been caught with an inane smile on my face in public (I don't think anyone bothered, though, which is a good thing.) Michael and Mia are the cutest couple ever, even cuter than Bella and Edward. I'm comparing them in terms of how giggly and swoony I get whenever the couples are together. Edward's speeches are a little too prettily arranged at times. Romantic, hell yes, but a little too Romeo-ish. (But of course, seeing as how he's from a different time, that's understandable.) Anyway, I'm falling completely in love with Michael all over again, just like I had when I first started reading it. I screamed more exuberantly over Michael and Mia than Bella and Edward. And people who know me know how nuts I already am over Bella and Edward.

Anyway, in fact, so in love with Michael I am - and so convicted of their love, whether or not Mia, dense Mia, realises that - that I didn't read those books where they weren't together. I read up to the 6th or 7th book, I think. One of it was lame, where Mia tried so hard to prove to Michael that she was a party princess and not a prude, when Michael didn't care if she was a party princess anyway (and would rather she wasn't someone she was trying to be) and loved her for being her. That was quite lame. And in another book, it was all about Doing It, and how Michael said he knew she was the one for him and that he wouldn't wait for her to be ready for It. Wtf, I could kill Meg Cabot for doing that. That just killed my opinion of Michael. How could he say he wasn't going to wait for Mia to be ready for It? He has to, because he loves her, hello?

But I still love Michael, of course. It's hard not to. He's so sweet and thoughtful, and clearly loves Mia to bits, and is always trying hard to be worthy of her (even though it's she who thinks she isn't worthy of him).

Last I read, Michael and Mia broke up because she couldn't deal with him having Done It with some other girl before they (Michael and Mia) even got together. He was worried she wouldn't be mature enough to deal with that, which was why he didn't tell her. And true enough, she made a huge deal out of it, and they ended up breaking things off. And then Michael left for Columbia University(why is it that every book I read has to have the characters going off to Columbia? Jessica Darling went there too - way to make me feel inadequate, Meg Cabot and Megan McCafferty), and Mia tried to move on with life.

And then this other guy JP showed up and like how Jacob got Bella through her dark days without Edward, JP did the same for Mia, and they've been together for almost two years (she was with Michael for 4, I think). And oh, did I mention, JP went out with Mia's best friend Lilly (well, ex-bff now, since a bff's ex is off limits) after he broke up with Lilly?

JP seemed like a nice guy; that's what Meg wanted to show. But somehow, I wasn't bought into it. My loyalties (I would use the word allegiance, but it sounded patriotic somehow) lie with Michael and always will. Michael and Mia are perfect for each other. Mia was just too immature to be in a relationship (see: Michael's Doing It with Judith Gershner, when he wasn't even with Mia at that time) then.

But she's a senior now, and Michael's invented something called the CardioArm which makes him some hot young scientist and he's getting international acclaim and each equipment is selling for a million over bucks. And he's back. To New York.

And all the truths just spill out:

1. JP is a dick. That seems the most important. Not only did he get together with Mia after breaking up with her best friend Lilly, he did that once he heard Mia had broken up with Michael and he could now get a chance to be her prince. He even wrote a play that mimicked their relationship and where he was the prince to her princess (how highly can he think of himself?). Plus, he booked a room at some swanky hotel on their prom night months before, even though Doing It was never something they'd ever discussed. AND, he wouldn't read the romance novel Mia had slaved over for 21 months and was hoping to publish, because he thought romance novel-writing was below her and that she could do so much better. He also didn't bother reading it because he was busy with his play. WHAT AN UNSUPPORTIVE DICK. Seriously, what is Mia even doing with JP?!

2. Michael has always loved Mia, even after they broke up, and when he left for University, he got one of their mutual friends to look out for her. He didn't want to get back with Mia (when she tried, after they broke up) because he was going off to University and he didn't think it was fair for her to wait around for him. PLUS, the reason why he was so bent on his work (the CardioArm) was because he was dying to prove himself to Mia's royal family that he was worthy of the Princess of Genovia (Mia), since JP had a famous dad in the theatre industry and everyone loved him (including Mia's family) and thought he was better for Mia than Michael was. Oh, how blind everyone was.

3. Lilly was mad at Mia for two books or so (I don't know, I stopped reading after the 7th book, where Michael and Mia broke up. The one that I'm reading now is the 10th and final one) not because Mia stole her boyfriend, but because she couldn't see what a dick he was and because Mia broke up with her brother (yes, Michael is Lilly's brother) and got together with JP.

And now Michael's back and trying really hard to win Mia back. Mia's never stopped loving Michael, even though she thinks she has and is in love with JP. Somehow, she's just not drawn to JP the way she was drawn to Michael.

All I can say is: SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM! I know, I'm being completely juvenile and shallow here, reading a book like that. But come on, we all need a bit of escapism sometime. And hello, isn't this the cutest love story ever? How can anyone not love Michael?

So I'm left with the last 50 pages or so (sobs), so I'm going to go back to it.

Allow me to indulge in one last infantile, whimsical proclamation before I leave.

MICHAEL AND MIA FOREVER.

(Seems like I've been in love with fictional characters way before I met Edward.)

Saturday, September 05, 2009

"Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains."
~ Jean Jacques Rousseau

Can there possibly be absolute freedom? We want to believe that we are free, that we are governed only by our own actions, but just on the superficial level, in every state, we already relinquish part of our freedom to those who govern us to ensure protection and order in the state. So in order to live in a country that runs smoothly, we are subjected to giving up the absolute freedom we had. This is rather utilitarian in essence. (And this is the one instance in which utilitarianism makes sense to me.)

But maybe we weren't even born free. The minute we were born, we've been under the control of our parents, or those who nurture us. Even for those who act out and defy the authority of their guardians, the law catches up with them. At least, that is the case in most societies I know.

In our society now, of course, the notion of freedom is a highly challenged one, a dubious honour that we think we have. In fact, the control over us, while it might seem to have loosened, is in fact tightening, in the form of the modern 'root of all evil': the media. The insidious way in which is extends its control over more people is overlooked because of the convenience it gives us, not to mention the entertainment value. Our society is structured around technology now. At least, the society that I'm in is. Our economy, one of the pillars of a society, is propped up by information and communication systems that connect us to the rest of the world. But I shan't get into all that detail right here, since all that has been drilled into us and written to death in JC GP essays.

So suffice it to say, technology is the main mechanism of most societies in the twenty-first century. But technology is a broad notion. It doesn't just fuel capitalism; it also affects us directly. We are bombarded by images daily, being fed signifiers that we can, if we are discerning enough, decode. We are told how to think, what to think, so consistently that we think nothing of it. Freedom of thought? What's that? We know that the cool kids listen to AT 40, and blondes are stupid, women should strive to attain figures like Megan Fox because they are desirable by men, and it is possible to 'drop a jeans size in 4 weeks!'. Wait. Is that really what we KNOW?

And then there's the affiliated freedom of choice, or freedom of autonomy. Are our choices really based on what we want, what we decide we want, what we decide is good for us, or will add to our pleasure or benefit? Given all the subliminal messages we inhale, how can we properly filter our own decisions and those already made for us?

So, I guess there never is such a thing as freedom. Even less so in the world today as we know it. I don't want to repeat myself on Plato's allegorical Cave, but this is us seeing those shadows on the Cave walls and thinking that's reality, that's the truth, when in fact, that is just a feeble imitation of the Truth (the light that casts those shadows).

Friday, September 04, 2009

Went for dinner at Aston's with the girls after my lectures today. It's been - to coin a cliched phrase - donkey years since I'd last sat down with them properly for a chat. Seeing them made me realise how much I've missed them, and how terrifyingly easy it had been for them to be out of my life during my JC years.

They haven't changed much - we seemed to pick up where we left off - yet they did. Anna's so pretty now, and Khrisha's wearing (!) nail polish. Yvonne looks the same, apart from - ahem - her hair, and she's full of crap as always. And Stacy's as candid as ever, except slightly more tanned.

We are, however, all jaded with life. I guess it's at this age that you start to feel like life is only such; it doesn't offer you the things you thought it would. But the good thing is, you have friends like these to battle the case of nihilistic woes.

The night was too short.
Thursday, September 3, 2009

Writer Appreciation Week: The Unpublished!
Ah, the unpublished. Or, as many declare: the pre-published.Let's be honest: it's difficult sometimes being a writer who is unpublished. You're slaving away for hours on end on a manuscript or manuscripts that may be the next great sensation or may only be read by a few people. It could be huge, it could be small. It's an uncertain time, rife with doubts and a need for some validation (anything, please) to quell the "Am I crazies."

And that's even before you get to the agent chase, the queries that seem to disappear into the ether or only score a form letter in return. With your name misspelled.It's not an easy path. But the most important thing to remember about the unpublished: everyone started there.

Every writer we love started out not knowing whether they had a shot or whether their work would be appreciated. Lots of beloved authors had to write a few manuscripts to get it right, tasted lots of rejection along the way, and made everyone look like idiots when they finally made it. Everyone had to take the same leap of faith to start writing without knowing where it would lead.

So. How can you help the unpublished among us, even if you yourself are unpublished?

Read their work. Give them feedback. Help them get better. If you've been around the block a bit, help the lesser experienced learn the "rules" first-timers might not know about, like going easy on non-said dialogue tags and adverbs. They should know them before they break them. Honest, polite, constructive feedback.

But most importantly: give them encouragement. As I said on Monday, everyone thinks they can write a book. The only people who really know how hard it is are the ones who have tried.

Posted by Nathan Bransford
On Nathan Bransford's blog,

Taymalin said:

It takes a certain level of insanity to write. Embrace it and keep writing.

July 29, 2009 10:23 AM

Wednesday, September 02, 2009

This writing business is strange. You can go for weeks, even months, having nothing to say, no story to tell, and then suddenly, characters start swimming about in your head, begging for you to pair them up, let them meet the other characters, and conversations and random phrases begin ricocheting around until you have the compulsive urge to get them all out on paper before you go nuts.

And then, one day, it just stops. The voices stop calling to you, the characters dull and lose their lustre. Pretty soon, every person seems the same to you, and you think their desires and hopes and fears are practically similar to everyone else's. Nothing sparks your writing anymore, and you decide to take a break.

I've not written a short story in half a year. The last one I wrote was Smeared Canvas, if I'm not mistaken. I just reread it and thought, "Wow, I wrote this? How is that even possible?" Because it didn't seem possible that I could have written something as coherent as that, with properly sketched characters and plot, at all. How could I have, when I can't think of anything right now, much less string together character and plot to weave a compelling narrative piece? As some writer said before, our greatest fears as writers is for the well to run dry. Is this my well running dry? Have I become so attuned and desensitised to humankind (and oh, at the mere age of 18!) and the futility of life and our struggles that I no longer see the need to chronicle the lives of people I create in my own mind? Am I no longer able to see people, or have I simply lost the curiosity?

The last time I went on a short story-writing spree was because I had a case of the proverbial writer's block for my novel, Bedful of Moonlight. Right now, though, I'm itching to write a short story again despite relatively smooth sailing for the current novel I'm working on, Mint. But the muse is taking a vacation.

And I don't know when it will come back.

WILL it come back?

Tuesday, September 01, 2009

"There are some lessons that can only be learned by getting mid-way through a book and learning you don't have enough story or character depth to finish it. There are some lessons that are only learned once you box yourself into a certain point of view. There are some lessons only learned by realizing what you have is a great, big steaming pile of quirks and character sketch--but no real character CHANGE and thus . . . hell, it's not a novel.

The solution isn't to fake your results. The solution is to start your next book more determined and more aware than ever before. It's to salute the steaming pile of meh . . . and take what you learned and move on to the next book."

~ Erica Orloff, Writer
Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Tell me about it. I remember I was THISCLOSE to giving up on Bedful of Moonlight because halfway through the story (literally - I was at page 154), I realised I didn't have much of a plot or characters deep enough to flesh out their motivations and desires. I'm glad I decided to push through and dig deeper, though. I'm quite pleased with the end result.
"The most beautiful people in the whole world are aware of what makes them special."
~Erica Orloff, Writer
Friday, February 20, 2009

Monday, August 31, 2009

Start with a Promise
by mariaschneider on August 25, 2009:

By Jessica Page Morrell

Story openings are like job interviews, and if the words on the page entertain, you get the job. If they don’t, somebody who writes better gets the job.

The best openings of a story, novel, or memoir are contagious—they make the reader yearn for more because you chose the best words at the best moment to launch the events that follow while raising questions that demand answers. After all, you’re writing for an editor, a highly discerning reader. Editors are word people. They are connoisseurs who love the written word and appreciate delicate language, carefully crafted sentences, and refinement.

Along with a knack for crafting beautiful language, your first paragraphs need to set the tone for the story to come. Especially in these days of blogging, dashed-off e-mails, and self-publishing, it’s important to strive for perfection. As in strutting-the-red-carpet-at-the-Academy-Awards first impression. And your opening needs to have the impact of a starlet draped in a strapless gown and diamonds or a debonair actor in a crisp and oh-so-sexy tux. It needs to dazzle and assure the reader that you can handle what follows. It needs to make a promise about the kind of story that follows.


Promises, Promises

So your opening words contain a promise to your reader: Read these pages, and I’ll transport you to a world based on your expectations, where the story events deliver an emotionally satisfying experience. And the unfolding events in your novel must be appropriate for the genre or type of story that you’re writing.

This works for memoir, also. When a reader opens the first page of a memoir, he wants to read the truth about the author’s dramatic experiences. Your opening promises that the true events of a life are fascinating and possibly horrifying.

Now, your story might be a bare-assed exposé of squalor and debauchery with your skinny-necked stepfather starring as the true-life villain. Or it might be a luminous and uplifting tale of endurance, or a life story that lies somewhere in between. No matter your approach, your first words telegraph that this story will make a reader laugh, cry, and ponder truths about the human experience.

On the other hand, when a reader opens a novel, he’s signing up for a pack of lies. You, the writer, are the liar and your reader is the sucker who is going to buy all these lies, hook, line, and sinker, as the old saying goes. It’s part of the contract that you and the reader are agreeing to. Your opening promises that you are going to tell the sort of lies that the reader specifically wants to hear. This logic is fairly simple because each genre has a built-in audience and your opening winks a come-on at that audience like a saloon girl in the Old West.

If a reader plunks down $24.95 for a fantasy or science fiction novel, he expects fantastical elements and interesting explorations of themes that perhaps cannot be explored in a story that’s based strictly on realistic elements. Of course some sci-fi stories are set in today’s world because lots of chilling truths can be told about this world, especially about ecological nightmares or technology unleashed. So your opening can start in a galaxy far away or just down the street, but it promises that imaginative ideas will be explored.

Likewise, suspense novels are always about a crime and a criminal who needs to be caught. Besides the classic detective story, there are subgenres such as espionage, psychological suspense, romantic suspense, police procedural, courtroom procedural, whodunit, and cozies. Each type has varying degrees of violence and grit, but all are a thrill ride. And the opening must present a world in which all hell is about to break loose.

If you’re writing a romance, in the opening pages love will be in the air, as the lovers collide, usually appearing at an inconvenient time. In a romance, readers expect to delve deeply into the hero’s and heroine’s psyches, want to watch the blossoming romance falter and fizzle before it finally blooms, and want all other aspects of the plot—even if it is set on another planet in the distant future—to rank secondary to the romance.

But all this is promised in an opening that unfolds with just the right note. An emotional opening prepares the reader for a heart-rattling journey, just as a philosophical opening promises a thoughtful exploration of themes, an action-packed opening promises a bronco-breaking ride, and a quiet beginning usually promises an intense exploration of characters’ lives. So start with a specific promise about the story that follows and then, drumroll, please, keep the promise.

~ Jessica Page Morrell is a veteran writing coach who has written several books for writers including Between the Lines: Master the Subtle Elements of Fiction Writing and Bullies, Bastards and Bitches: How to Write the Bad Guys of Fiction. This excerpt is from her latest book Thanks, But This Isn’t For Us (Tarcher/Penguin paperback).
18 Things I've Learnt in My 18 Years of Life:

1. That sometimes, hard work can only get you so far. The rest is just luck.

2. That every child has a right to be loved.

3. That there will be one person who doesn't like you very much. And that's just how it is. Nothing we say or do can change it, so

4. We can't please everyone, so we just have to please ourselves.

5. That we should live every moment they way it is meant to be lived.

6. That if we don't, we'll look back and wonder why we'd wasted all that time being less than happy.

7. That everyone is built differently. No point desiring what you can never have.

8. That the person(s) you look up to have their own insecurities and flaws.

9. That some people can stay in your life as long as you keep them there.

10. That the nice guys are those whom babies like.

11. That writing and swimming give me the most joy I can ever hope to find.

12. That material possessions and retail therapy don't come close to giving me that much joy and direction in life.

13. That people are not inherently bad or evil; they are just misguided.

14. That we can only experience the good when we experience the bad.

15. That we all try too hard to be like each other so that we don't stand to be different (and therefore weird).

16. That there are all sorts of people in the world. And sometimes, you're just another statistic.

17. That there are other things that define our worth.

18. That girls should have a good cry once in a while, just to cleanse our systems.

Now. Your turn. Sound off in the Comment Box.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

SC2210: Sociology of Pop Culture
Forum Topic 4:


Q: Post modern pop is perhaps best manifested through the cut n paste culture of the DJ who reassembles and reproduces, instead of assembling and producing. If pop culture is essentially in the realm of the postmodern, how does it reflect on the society that consumes postmodernism? Are we looking at the greater acceptance of hybridity, diversity and dissonance on an increasingly more cynically informed populace?

A: Considering how pervasive pop culture has proven to be in our lives now, I would say there is a greater acceptance of this 'cut-and-paste' culture. Not necessarily because we like it; rather, it might be due to an ingrained mentality, a notion that this sort of culture is the norm and there is nothing wrong with reproducing (or repackaging) old ideas into new, shinier ones. Indeed, we of the MTV generation have been brought up to believe this is innovation, this is creativity and imagination. We might be wrong - this may actually be the dearth of creativity - but we won't know that. After all, many hail Andy Warhol's Campbell Soup Cans as the movement to usher in the new era of pop art, lauding him as an avant-garde artist who satirised our culture of consumerism. Yet, others question his credibility as a true artist, because all he did was portray an old item (one that's been around for some time) in a new way.

Therefore, I don't think it's a greater acceptance of hybridisation in our society (although it could be seen that way too, to a certain extent), but more of the formation of a social axiom. Mix-and-match has become a new way of life for the new generation.

Friday, August 28, 2009

One thing I've noticed about uni students is that they love to use BIG words and present their points in a HUGE circle, so as to make themselves sound incredibly intelligent. They do sound intelligent, but when it comes down to it, all they're presenting is one point that can be summarised in one sentence. In simple English.

Just an observation.
Philosophy Forum Topic, August 28, 2009:

Open Thread

Say anything. (So long as it's reasonably polite.)

Discuss my lecture.

Or, if you prefer, discuss the mystery of where 'cool' comes from: if it is only cool because the cool people love it, what causes the cool people to love it in the first place? (Are they better at noticing beauty? Or are they merely following some higher trend of cool-ness? Or is it all a trick so that fashion designers can earn more money? Defend your answer!)



Okay, this will not be a long, rambly response. Coolness is, of course, measured and defined contextually. I think what makes something cool is the novelty of it. That is why people are always so fascinated with technological gadgets, and the IPhone (and the likes) is so coveted for. We are constantly on the search for something new to fulfil us, to be the final answer to all our earthly desires. Hence our rabid craze to hop on the bandwagon and be in the inner circle.

Something could have been there all along, like 80's fashion. It is now seeing a revival and pronounced as cool because top-notch designers like Frida Giannini from Gucci are leading the pack in a re-vamping of the 80's trend. Who would have thought ripped band t-shirts, acid wash jeans and neon colours would ever see the light of day again? But now, they are the latest fashion and one would be considered fashion-forward for dressing up this way.

Coolness has always been inside of us. It is a state of mind that we can only hope to reach once we are comfortable in our own skins, corny as that might sound. However, I do feel that the trendsetters who declare something as cool are those who have attained that state of contentment and are able to push the boundaries of convention to try out new things. Therefore, they have the authority to say something is cool because to them, it just is, never mind what others think.

To apply Plato's Theory of Forms, our attempts to be cool is just a feeble imitation of Coolness. We are not being cool because coolness is an ever-changing phenomenon. What makes something cool is exactly because it never stays stagnant, because it changes constantly. Therefore, to truly be cool, we should stick our heads out of the Cave and see for ourselves Coolness for what it really is.

~ Posted by: Joyce at Aug 28, 2009 10:40:40 PM


My goodness. And I promised it wouldn't be a long, rambly post.

~ Posted by: Joyce at Aug 28, 2009 10:41:04 PM

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Posted by Erica Orloff, Wednesday, November 08, 2006:


The Critical Beast

One reason I think I can tap in and write YA novels is I was the outsider girl. Too brainy to be cool, too skinny, with a very strict father (never went on a date until I was 16), with just the most lifeless hair (four kids later, something about giving birth has evolved it into a thick, somewhat unruly but presentable thing of its own--but back then . . . limp and BLAH!). In HIGH SCHOOL BITES, Lucy's heartaches mirrored the way I felt. She lived in the creepy house, where all was not quite as it seemed, and I suppose I felt a little like that. I didn't have a creepy house, but I had my secrets and my loneliness, and some of the things Lucy speaks about.

And sometimes . . . if my day isn't going well . . . if I run into snobby moms at school, whatever . . . I can hear those adolescent voices in my brain. I think shrinks call it "playing old tapes." You know, the voice of someone who once said you weren't good enough or pretty enough or strong enough or . . . fill in the blank.

And writers are probably more prone than most to replaying criticisms because we live in a world inherent with rejection. We live in a world in which people can bash our work on blogs or Amazon or in gossip overheard at conferences. We need acceptance in order to succeed. We need acceptance by an agent, then by an editor, then by the book-buying public.

We also have to self-edit and critique ourselves and this can feed that Critical Beast. I have known more than one writer over the last twenty years who has never, ever finished anything because the Critical Beast just keeps brutally bashing every word, every scene until the delete key is their new best friend.

We all have very specific things, though, that we tend to fret about. Our Critical Beast knows EXACTLY where our insecurities lie. Our personal minefield is full of hidden traps laid since childhood. Give me a room full of kids to talk to any day. Stick me in front of five adults and I want to run and hide. I force myself to do signing, but I don't love them. In my work, I think my dialogue rocks . . . but my Critical Beast rolls its eyes at my attempts at getting across my "Big Idea" in verbal pitches. I do it. But I feel as if I fumble, and do so much better at the written proposal. Something about that face-to-face thing taps into my Outsider Girl status. My agent will tell me I nailed the meeting. And from the offers I've gotten or events that followed, I think he's right and not just flattering me. BUT . . . the Critical Beast? Still roars.

How about you? Take your Critical Beast out . . . and maybe when we see them all in the light of day, they won't seem so beastly after all.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

I'm just going to talk about the synonymy of pop culture and low culture from a man-on-the-street perspective, not as someone studying Sociology of Pop Culture, all right. Don't quote me on anything.

So the (past semester exam) question is: to what extent is pop culture synonymous with low culture? We're supposed to explain with regard to "mass society" and "progressive evolution" theories, but I'm not going to pretend like I know a hell lot about all that, so I'll just say whatever I have to say regarding this.

Based on what I know, low culture is the sort that panders to the general audience, the Philistines, to use a derogatory term. It's mainstream culture. My kind of culture. Because, really, who doesn't like pop culture? Who doesn't like infectious hits like 'Love Games' by Lady Gaga, or the easy singalongs by Taylor Swift? Who doesn't enjoy action-packed movies with cars exploding and hot bods splayed everywhere? It's POPULAR culture for a reason.

But for some reason, that said culture is now given a rather unkind name. Just because it is generally accepted by the middle class, it has become something to turn up your nose at? In terms of film, are the only ones worth watching the international ones or the Oscar-worthy ones like Revolutionary Road? Entertainment used to be Shakespeare, until the elites decided to act like the snobs they are and close it off to the general public or those who are unable to adhere to more restrictive code of conduct. Now, Shakespeare has become high culture. To think Shakespeare used to be pop culture! Maybe that's one way in which pop culture is linked to low culture. Because of how palatable something is, it becomes known as pop culture. But because of how generally popular it has become, the elites decide that this is below them, and denounce it low culture. Maybe everything started off as high culture in the first place. For example, not many people liked indie films when it first took to the silver screen. It just seemed too stagnant, where characters went about their business in life and then went on an INCREDIBLE road to self-discovery blah blah blah. Now, though, shows like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Little Miss Sunshine (what's with the sunshine theme?) win critical acclaim.

So who's to say pop music is low culture?


I'm actually suffering from a brain-block at the moment. It's a result of a long, long lapse in studying. My above argument (more like a rant - it has no structure WHATSOEVER, much less both sides of the coin, which guarantees a fail in jc) doesn't only make no sense; it also doesn't really answer the question.

I'd delete this post and go on with the self-flagellation in private, but I want to publish this for posterity's sake. I'm tempted to say I'm not cut out for this (I've always viewed my place in uni with no little amount of scepticism), but it's early days yet and I have to keep my spirits up. Or I'd just go nuts later on.
I had my first tutorial today for PH1101E (Philosophy - Reason and Persuasion). And I must say, it's quite - if you'll pardon the cliche - an eye-opener. Or mind-opener, should I say.

It wasn't the content that we went through. Liling (our tutor, who isn't very much older than us, and is studying for her Masters in Ethical Philosophy now) didn't try to explain what Euthyphro (one of Plato's dialogues) was about because, duh, we're expected to know that, apparently. What she did instead was teach us a logical method of thinking. Apparently, philosophy is sort of like the uncovering of basic assumptions of the things we think we know, but don't actually quite know, until we finally know that we don't know. And what Socrates does is establish people's arguments, put them together in a logical, coherent trend, and then point out the fallacies or false premises of their arguments. Which is why they call him the gadfly of Athenian society, since that's apparently what a gadfly does (and yes, I realise I've used the word 'apparently' thrice so far, but it's the only word I know that conveys a tinge of sarcasm).

So we were presented with this argument in Euthyphro:

Premise 1: Nothing can be both holy and unholy. (So claimed Euthyphro.)
P2: What the gods love is holy (by the way, 'holy' here means unviolated and pure, not you know, the holy that we know); what the gods hate is unholy.
P3: In some cases, some gods may love holiness and some gods may hate holiness.
P4: Given P2 and P3, some things are both holy and unholy.
P5: P4 (which is supported by P2 and P3) contradicts P1. Therefore, either P1, P2, or P3 is false.
P6: Assuming P1 and P3 are true (following Euthyphro's argument), P2 is false.

I know. It's crazily logical. And for a completely illogical person like me, who therefore find it tough to follow a LOGICAL (the horror!) line of reasoning, it takes some getting used to. It also doesn't help that my classmates are the LOGICAL sort and are able to hop on the trend of thought easily. Still, at least they're nice, and we can all engage in a healthy, friendly discussion.

Hopefully, tomorrow's NM1101E and EL1101E tutorials will be just as rewarding.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

I just borrowed this book on Philosophy (The Everything Philosophy Book, by James Mannion) from the library yesterday (and jl, I didn’t see any Sarah Dessen on the shelves! Guess I’m not the only fan). Some of Plato’s ideas are starting to make sense to me now. Also, I read up about some other philosophers and their ideas.

One of those who appealed to me is Nietzsche, the most famous – or should I say infamous – German philosopher, who is also the most misunderstood. Most people think of a Nazi when they think of Nietzsche. But Nietzsche has never been an advocate of Nazism. It was his sister who was anti-Semitic and pro-Nazi, and who went about promoting her brother’s works, that people tend to associate Nietzsche’s ideas with Nazi propaganda. It also didn’t help that the Nazis seized Nietzsche’s principles and corrupted it, making it suit their quest for absolute power over the state.

You see, Nietzsche had this Superman principle: he believed that we are enslaved by the moralities that society and religion impose upon us, and that we should strive to break out of these confinements and achieve our greatest human potential, thereby rising above the ‘herd’ (as he called unwashed masses). He believed the Superman does not bow to the power of religion or other authority figures, or conform to the throng of humanity. The Superman makes his own ethical decisions based on his own morality, not one imposed by society and religion.

Nietzsche was advocating mastering yourself and achieving your personal potential without allowing yourself to be inhibited by a repressive society. However, the Nazis distorted his principle so as to gain absolute control over Germany. Thus the bad rep for Nietzsche.

Nietzsche’s most famous work is called Thus Spoke Zarathustra, which begins with a fable that sums up his views on the objective of the individual in society. In the fable, a camel morphs into a lion, the lion slays a dragon named ‘Thou Shalt’, and then the lion morphs into a child.

In youth, we are all camels (why camels and not giraffes or hippos, I don’t know). Born into blank slates, we have the weight of the world heaped upon us. We are ‘beasts of burden’, carrying all that society and religion have imposed on our innocent souls, preventing us from achieving our full potential and finding true contentment in our lives. In adulthood, we become lions and venture out into the world. The more crap we face from the diabolical forces of society and religion, the stronger we become. (It was, in fact, Nietzsche who uttered the famous aphorism: That which does not kill us makes us stronger.)

So then the lion is confronted by a dragon named ‘Thou Shalt’, which symbolises all the do’s and don’ts of society and religion that have stifled us in our lifetimes. The lion slays the dragon and is then transformed into an innocent, uncorrupted child. Paradoxically, this childlike state should be the goal of the fully matured adult who has survived the slings and arrows, remained broken but unbowed, and slayed the dragon to emerge the triumphant Superman.

That is Nietzsche’s philosophy in a nutshell. Which kind of makes sense.

Now, don’t start thinking I’m some kind of anarchist or irreverent Atheist (although I do reject the idea of a higher power – but I shall leave it at that, since the topic of religion makes me uneasy). I just think that what Nietzsche said about mastering yourself and not conforming to the ideas imposed upon you so as to achieve your highest potential makes complete sense. His philosophy is one that encourages seizing life by the reins with gusto and being all that you can be.

The problem is, some Nietzsche-philes misinterpret his idea. They think that since Nietzsche said other people may get hurt along the way as you exert your will to power, and you may get hurt by another’s rampaging will, but hey, that’s life, that they are justified in tyrannical means to emerge as the victorious and the powerful. That’s why many people think Nietzsche’s a trouble-maker for coming up with those ideas of his.

I say, you fear what you don’t know.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

I've just found a new way to SEE my modules. That is, I've just found a way to interlink what I'm learning in a few of my modules, so that they complement each other's arguments.

For instance, in Cultural Studies, we're learning about the symbolic significance of objects. What is significant about comic books? Their plot. The lessons they claim to impart, the notions they say they purport, despite being criticised for corrupting the youth with their repetitive narrative and stereotypes. Comic books are a medium through which we are told how to behave as social animals. We are taught moral lessons (eg. With great power comes great responsibility) and, in commercial fiction, are led to believe in the 'norms' of social custom (eg. a woman needs a man to complete her). We are told what to expect, what to believe, what is right and generally accepted - to the extent that we don't see anything wrong with that anymore. And that is when the impact of pop culture is most keenly felt.

Which brings us to pop culture, and its pervasiveness. And why are we so susceptible to all these messages? Because of the media. Of course it's because of the media. It's become the scapegoat for everything, hasn't it? Nonetheless, it is still the barrier between us and reality (or whatever reality is, since it is nothing but an imitation of all true Forms, according to Plato). Our perception of reality and society has been distorted even more so now because of how the media has become so easily accessible to us. Because of the gamut of entertainment sources (eg. TV, film, music, literature, etc), we have allowed the cultural zeigeist to take over and cast shadows over our eyes. Are reality TV shows really a reflection - or even a depiction - of reality? What is reality? Isn't it just one person's view of the world against another's? How could you tell what is the absolute reality, anyway, since we invariably go through the same experiences in a different way? Could we all possibly see the same reality? Are we all just seeing shadows on the Cave wall? Are we really to conform to the dictates of the media? Which version of the Truth is right?

So. In the teachings of Plato, we are to cast off our shackles and see the Light. Let us not be deceived by the shadows in the Cave that we think is reality; instead, see the fire that casts those shadows.


Well. That's what I make of it. I've managed to draw a debatable connection amongst four of the five modules I'm taking. The only module I can't find a link with the others is my Nature of Language module (duh).

And please don't think I'm actually that impassioned about casting off my shackles and see the Light. I'm happy listening to my American Top 40 and reading my commercial lit, thank you very much. All I was doing was string everything up so that it makes a modicum of sense to me. I can stay in that Cave, for all I care.

Obviously, university education hasn't done much good for me so far. I'm still a passive little conformist. But really, why wait for rain when there are no clouds, right? Well, not much, anyway.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Just learnt that the guy in the You Belong With Me video is Lucas Till. He acted in the Hannah Montana show (bleh), which I'm willing to overlook, because he's HOT.

Taylor Swift - You Belong With Me - Official Music Video

I'm posting this because I think the guy is friggin cute. And also the ending's really sweet :) I'm growing to like Taylor Swift.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Dear Joyce,

Thank you for sending me these sample pages of WHEN THE LILIES TURN ORANGE. I shared this with a colleague, and while we both really liked your characters and enjoyed the backdrop of the flower shop, we felt that it took too long for the story to really get started. I wanted to know, earlier, what the mystery about Connell was (or at least to get more significant clues).

So, please think of us with your future work. And best of luck finding the right home for this one.

Warmest,
Kelly

Kelly D. Sonnack
Andrea Brown Literary Agency
kelly@andreabrownlit.com

Friday, August 14, 2009

Just got back from school. It was a long day today. My first lecture started at 2pm (and the last would end at 6pm), so I woke up, went for my swim, had some fruits at home before I took 147 to school. I figured I'd go there earlier and explore the school a little, and also to buy my course packs. And since I had so much time prior to my lectures, I decided to try the bus and see how long it would take. My estimation wasn't far off: the 147 journey took an hour, while the 95 one took about 20 minutes. Of course, the bus journey takes longer than the train one.

So, moving on from dry topics such as journeys, I got off at the Central Library and visited the bookstore. There was some kind of event going on, and leaflets were thrust at me. I finally emerged from the mire and slipped into the bookstore. They sell textbooks - of course - and (gasp!) chick-lit fiction novels, NUS paraphernalia such as the stuffed teddy bear (some kind of mascot, I suppose), notepads, sweatshirts, t-shirts, files, keychains, notebooks, etc, all emblazoned with the letters NUS in the school colours (orange and blue), and even car decals.

Later, I got my course-packs at the booth right outside the bookstore, and I must say, for how big the school is, it's very well-run, no chaos like at SA, where the queues were always long and there was general confusion in getting the reading packages. I got my NM1101E (Communications, New Media and Society) and SC2210 (Sociology of Pop Culture) packages, the latter twice as thick as the former, probably because it's level-2000 and therefore heavier.

So, that done, I tried to take the shortcut from the library to FASS, as I'd drawn out on my copy of the school map. But I guess I'm a walking stereotype of females. My map-reading skills are sorely lacking, and I couldn't make any sense of where I was going. Plus, I didn't have the sense to look up at the signposts for help. So I ended up walking to the Business Faculty (it's next to FASS, but along the road), and ended up at Kent Ridge Residences (one of the student dormitories). I could see the main road, for crying out loud. So I figured it would be best if I asked for directions. Thankfully, a senior pointed me in the right direction. Thank you, seniors, for aiding us freshies in our navigation around the vast and overwhelming world of varsity campus.

It was a looooooooooong trek up a slope to FASS, where I had to first pass by AlumNUS. By the time I reached The Deck (the foodcourt of FASS), I was sweating galleons and panting like I had just scaled one of those Himalayan mountains. (It certainly felt like it.) My hair was a mess, sticking to my neck due to my perspiration, and sticking out as well. Compounding that to a very flushed face, I must have looked a fright. Which is really too bad, because some of the guys who looked at me (and promptly turned away to shudder in fright, I'm sure) were cute. NUS is full of cute guys - guys just fresh out of NS and therefore still have The Body - and that's a fact.

Okay, so as for the lectures, my first lecture of the day, GEM1004 (Reason & Persuasion), was taught by Professor John Holbo, and he's an interesting orator, which made the lecture endurable, considering the fact that it was on Philosophy. He's sort of humorous, and was able to distill/condense the ideas and theories in a simpler manner. That said, Philosophy still seems rather meaningless to me, since all it does is ask questions in circles and not coming up with a concrete answer. Despite how good a lecturer Prof Holbo is, this is one lecture that I'm not quite looking forward to next week. Maybe it'll be better after I've read the textbook, which - get this - was written by Prof Holbo himself. How cool is that. Also, on a sidenote, I managed to talk to two girls in the lecture today, which took the boredom off slightly.

My second and last lecture of the day was Sociology of Pop Culture. Sounds fun, right? But it's level-2000, which makes it tougher for a freshie like me to handle. The good thing, though, is that there are no group projects and presentations ("No point having those when no-one listens to them anyway, right?" Dr Liew said, to which many of us sniggered). Instead, we have to submit 2 essays (one 500-800 word piece, which takes up 10% of our final grade, and another 2000-2500 word one, which takes up 20% - the remaining 60% comes from exams and the final 10% comes from class participation). Which is fine by me. Group projects are often a chore, anyway, unless, of course, I have a cute group-mate (although I wouldn't mind if that were in the plural form).

Thus ends my first week in NUS. Here's to fun lectures and not getting lost anymore.