Monday, December 30, 2013

Bring on 2014!


The quote above is from author Margaret Peterson Haddix's German ski instructor, Horst, when she was learning how to ski. And it seems so simple but true. This shall be my mantra  for 2014. Now I just need to decide where I'm looking.

And how are we on the New Year's goals front? I'm still working on mine. But the basic gist is smile more, write more, live more and worry less. The specifics I shall flesh out here and now.

GOALS FOR 2014 (this sounds so officious it will be a crime to not achieve these goals!):

1. Get a literary agent already. It's been too many rejection letters - generic ones and kind ones - and near-misses. 



Despite the daunting odds (approximately 0.2% of aspiring writers actually score a literary agent and/or a publishing contract), it's time to get someone interested in my stories already. To do so, I would need to

2. Write the best damn novel I have ever written, even if it means hours and days and months of tweaking and tinkering and obsessive perfecting of my manuscript. The process is not fun for someone who prefers jumping on an idea to working out the details. First drafts may be painful, but at least they're exhilarating. Everything that comes after, i.e. editing, is torturous.



Still, I'm in too deep to pull out now. So with all or nothing, I'm going for all. Be it Blood Promise or Until Morning, I WILL get an agent on board for 2014. No more pining and wishing and envying; more doing and getting and having.




3. Be happy. An entire year has just passed, and more of them are just going to whiz by as quickly. Why mope? Why waste time and effort on being sad or angry with people and things that make us sad or angry?



For someone who cries when someone gets snappish with me, you can see why I've been struggling with this goal for ages. I can't help it. People's emotions rub off very easily on me (have I mentioned that I'm weird and sensitive?), and any negative mood from others can make my mood plummet faster than my colleagues can attack the packet of Tim Tams in the office.

So what I do now - and plan to keep doing - is think of a happy song, or a pretty face, whenever I feel my spirits start to flag.

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Besides, if you're happy, people around you are happy. I swear, it works. 

Often, the ones we are closest to bear the brunt of our emotions because we're so used to having them around and being showered with their love and concern that we take them for granted. So I shall smile more at my family, talk to them more often and always be patient with them so they'll never doubt how much I love them.

(Okay, getting too maudlin for my liking. Moving on.)


4. Believe in myself more. I realise that sounds very vague, a resolution just begging to to be broken, so to be more specific, my first response to every bit of self-doubt would be 

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And no, this is not being narcissistic or egoistical. This is an attempt at confidence. You fake it to make it, as they say. And I say, hey whatever works. I am so done with putting myself down and worrying about not meeting people's expectations and letting them down.


That applies to bad hair days, daunting writing tasks and everything else.


5. Set a proper schedule to learn Korean and French proper, instead of just visiting my notes and videos when I feel like it.

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6. Finish No Room in Neverland and write the sequel to Blood Promise OR get started on Indigo Tides. Either way, COMPLETE ANOTHER NOVEL.

(On a side note, I learnt a new term today! Introducing the "newt", also known as a New Weird Thing, according to Laini Taylor
That is, a writing project that is usurping the place of another writing project. Also known as a "slutty new idea". Newts are to be discouraged, despite their unfailing awesomeness.
Here's hoping newts don't come attacking in 2014! More COOL THRILLING IDEAS - cooties? Right. So more cooties, fewer newts. Although really, any idea is welcome. I'm not discriminating. Newts have the potential to turn into cooties, after all.*

*Taken out of context, the above paragraph can probably certify my sanity level.)

That's all I can think of for now. It always seems a little pointless to plan too far ahead since you never know what can happen two months down the road. But for now, this is my road map for the year ahead.

I hope 2014 treats you well! :0)

Saturday, December 28, 2013

random snapshots of the week

View on the way home from work on Friday evening

Flying horses, anyone?

The above was taken at Chinatown, which my dad and I visited on Christmas Day. It was one of those days where everything was agreeable, the weather, the mood. Maybe because it was Christmas and everything felt lovely and peaceful. I woke up to a beautiful morning with skies like this:

Christmas morning

Where the wind was crisp and cool as it settled on your skin, and the blue sky was flecked with gold and pink. It's impossible to be cranky on a day like this.

And it's funny: the better mood you're in, the happier you are, the more smiles you receive. It's like people can sense your good mood and they become happier themselves. What you get in the end is a bunch of Happy Shiny people. And that's a lovely crowd to be among. It's so easy to fold in on ourselves and shut out everything around us, but in the end all we really need to do is:


In this feel-good streak, I went for my facial appointment and subjected myself to the same process of kneading, prodding, poking, squeezing, steaming. But my skin feels renewed now, so I guess all that discomfort was worth it?

The view on the way to Body Contours:

 
This has just been a post about nothing. Whatever. I'm off to catch up on Nichkhun/Victoria's We Got Married episodes. Have a great weekend, everyone! :0)


Thursday, December 26, 2013

less sulking, more smiling!

Something from Debbie Millman to start off this post:

If you imagine less, less will be what you undoubtedly deserve. Do what you love, and don’t stop until you get what you love. Work as hard as you can, imagine immensities, don’t compromise, and don’t waste time. Start now. Not 20 years from now, not two weeks from now. Now.
And in that vein,
I FINALLY MADE SOME HEADWAY WITH NEVERLAND!!

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(Oh, Misha. How he manages to switch between himself and Castiel is beyond me.)

Plus, I'm going back to Blood Promise, and making the final edits before sending it out to the agents who professed interest in it before. Things to do and things to look forward to! No more wandering and wondering in Writer's Block-ville.
Oh yes, merry Christmas, indeed.

I don't know about you, but for the first time in my life, I'm feeling ... excited for the coming year. New Year's has always been kinda meh for me: they either meant another year of slogging it out at school, waiting for my life to start, or another year where I had no idea where I'm headed.
This is an excerpt from my New Year's Eve post in 2007:
I'm so fucking sick of caring.
468 calories from 3 scoops of ice-cream, 525 calories from a lunch of bread and scones, 486 calories from a breakfast of pizza?
Fuck it all. Fuck calories, dress sizes, flat tummies, skinny thighs, sharp noses. Outgoing, athletic, bronzed and confidently cool? That's something I never will be. I'll always be ugly, stumpy and miserable: a pinched-faced girl with an over-the-top obsession with calories, fats and her appearance.
It's okay. I know I'm pathetic. I think I'm pathetic. To the extent that I think I hate myself. 
How is it that some girls can stand in front of the mirror, look at their bodies and shrug at their love handles, the pudge at their tummies, and their thighs glued to each other? Why can't I? In what way am I lesser than them? In that they love themselves more than I appreciate myself?
It'll be 2008 in about half an hour's time. I don't see what's so great about it. It seems like I'm entering 2008 just as clueless as I have been in 2007.

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Oh yeah, I was a bright ray of sunshine back then. Must be all the food I was not eating that made me such a miserable, pinch-faced bitch.

But this time, it feels different. Like I have every power to change whatever I'm not satisfied with in my life, instead of sit on my ass and wait for life to happen to me. It's an entire year of changes waiting to be made! And it's not just because I'm off what I call the "starvation diet" now (which is the stupidest thing I have ever done - DO NOT do that to yourself ever).


Maybe it's because we get more bigger picture-y as we grow older and stop zeroing in on the smaller stuff. When we were younger, in our teens, every bit of emotion and experience is heightened, and what people say to us or think of us becomes blown out of proportion. We place too much stock in these things, and when things go awry or fall short of our expectations we are slayed. It's the end of the world for us, and we rant and weep about it, write emo poetry in the middle of the night, thinking we'll never be happy again.

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Now, though, it just seems so stupid to fret over the things that don't matter in the long run. A bite of French fry isn't going to make me a whale (although more bites might), a bad day will be better after some sleep and a long swim, one piece of criticism doesn't mean that the entire world hates me.

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I think you can only be as happy as you choose to. I was miserable then because I gave myself the excuse to. It's because I'm not eating that I'm so cranky. It's because I need to be in control that I'm not eating. (Which is ironic because I ended up spiralling even more out of control as a result.) Maybe the best we can do is be happy for ourselves, so that we can be happy for the people who matter the most to us.


We're still one week away from year's end, but I'm tacking this on my list of New Year's goals (goals because the word resolutions is just begging for you to fall off the wagon right off the bat). What are your New Year's goals? :0)



Monday, December 23, 2013

of gatherings, saggy middles and a crush on an author (and yes, pretty faces)

Monday! 

I like to start off the week catching up on blogs. Laini Taylor's blog is always a mood-lifter: she writes about her travels to exotic places like Morocco and takes beautiful shots of France, and her daughter Clementine is soooooo adorable and happy, and her husband is as creative and fun-loving and sweet as her and they all seem like such Shiny Happy People. 

Is it possible to be entirely in love with someone you've never met and only know through her writing? Because I am head over heels in love with Laini Taylor and her fabulous, creative, artistic, whimsical life and family.


How I see Laini and her family

And oh, just a little piece of news: SHE'S FINALLY COMPLETED DREAMS OF GODS AND MONSTERS!!!!! 

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APRIL 2014, COME QUICK!!!!!! I need to devour that book now!!!!!!

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Okay. I'm done spazzing.


*

Literary agent Victoria Marini has some timely advice for this writer struggling with her first draft, the one so raw you can hear it moo or caw or whatever sounds animals make when they're alive and kicking and not ready to be served on a dish. (It's also what I like to call Draft Zero - capitalisation for dramatic effect - so raw it's not even entirely in prose form, just scattered prose and mostly dialogue and stage directions.)


"I suspect the main reason that people who wish to write, but fail to write, do so because they want write well. You must, first, be willing to write terribly.  If you want to write a book, your goal should be to write a book. Not a good book. Just a book. Worry about the "good" part later. Ms. (Annie) Lamott is a huge believer in "the shitty first draft." She argues, rightly if you ask me, that a first draft is just for getting it out of your head an onto the paper. It's sort of meant to be bad. Just get it out; word vomit! You don't even need to show anyone (certainly don't show your agent ;). It's just getting the bones of your story on paper. Once you have that version done (and most people don't get THAT far)  you can start to worry about being good." 

I hate to say this, but it's become increasingly undeniable that I AM STUCK for Neverland. Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh. The pace is flagging, and I can't think of a dramatic or emotionally-gratifying way to weave my characters and their dreams and fears and motivations together. Every idea I have just falls flat like the way tepid tea sits on your tongue. Completely disappointing.


Still, I shall take the above advice and plow through the crap. Hopefully, I'll have made some headway the next time I blog.


*

So last weekend, I managed to extricate myself from my computer, on which I've been watching the old episodes of We Got Married, a Korean "reality TV" show  that brings celebrities together in a make-belief marriage and then chronicles their lives as they do couple-y things that make us sad single people even sadder. I've watched the Leeteuk (from Super Junior) and Kang Sora episodes, and now I'm watching the Nichkhun (from 2pm) and Victoria (from f(x)) ones. 

Fine. You caught me. I only decided to watch this for the pretty faces. Whatever. Nichkhun is CUUUUTE.




Seriously, who can resist that face? Plus, he's such a sweetheart to Victoria even when she's being difficult. 

ANYWAY. That wasn't my point. My point is that I went out and socialised! Broke out of my isolation! Stuck my head out of my hermit cave! (And other annoying cliches.) And I attended not just one class gathering, but two! So yes, break out the champagne.

There was no champagne at the class barbecue last Saturday at my primary school gathering, but booze was definitely aplenty. Plus, seafood. And chicken. (Oh god, that chicken. It could be the most divine thing I've ever tasted.) 

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It's funny, but I used to get so nervous about attending these class gatherings. After all, these are the people who have known you since you were a kid, and they are the ones who bear witness to the crazy stupid shit you did then. But we do crazy stupid shit now anyway, so I guess  craziness and stupidity isn't something you leave behind once you cross a certain age threshold.

Here's a fairly normal shot of us


Before we decided normal is over-rated.


Last Friday night rolled out in a similar fashion, despite the drizzle.





Socialising is like running - for me, at least. You have to drag yourself to gatherings/events and convince yourself it'll be fun, but then it turns out to be really rewarding, just like you have to tow your ass to the track (although I don't run anymore since swimming is my cardio drug of choice) but then you experience runner's high and it becomes all worth the effort.  

Still, that's enough human interaction for one week. I shall retreat into my cave now. Merry Christmas!

Thursday, December 19, 2013

nostalgic over kid lit

Came across this piece of publishing news today: "...nostalgia is one of the main driving forces behind the rising juvenile fiction sales in Poland."

Awww. Is it because it's Christmas season that everyone's getting all sentimental? Whatever the reason, it's sweet that people are going back to their literary first loves. There's just something about children's fiction that is so comforting, like you know you're in safe hands, even though you may be swept away to foreign lands and meet terrifying villains and mean children.

What books did you read when you were young? And by young I mean below 13 or before secondary/high school. For me, these books kept me well-entertained in the pre-Internet age:

1. The Doomspell trilogy, by Cliff McNish


I remember how the Doomspell trilogy kept me glued to the pages when I first read it when I was 12. I finished the first book in a day, curled up in the couch and completely entranced. This was the first fantasy series that had ever rendered me useless in the face of a compelling story. Others came along, but you never forget the first one.


2. Double Act, by Jacqueline Wilson


It's about this pair of twins who are polar opposites of each other in personality, and how they deal with the changes in their family and their lives, drift apart and find each other at the end of it all. It was the first Jacqueline Wilson book I'd ever read and also my favourite, although her others. I remember this awful story I wrote when I was 13, which mimicked Wilson's writing style, back when I was still trying out different voices and find my own. I threw it out along with my diaries I'd kept since I was 11, as well as the very first "novel" I wrote for a contest. Still, it was fun experimenting with different writing styles.


3. Island of the Aunts, by Eva Ibbotson


Oh, Eva Ibbotson. She's this wicked lovely blend of Roald Dahl and J.K. Rowling. Her stories are thrilling without being too sinister, with characters innocent but not naive, and her writing style is the sort that makes me nostalgic for kid lit. I can't describe it. You know how you read a children's book and sort of smile to yourself because the voice of the narrator is so friendly and engaging without being too mollycoddle-y? It treats the young reader as sensible and smart, but doesn't wreck his or her innocence. Island of the Aunts was the first book of hers I'd read, and remains my absolute favourite.


4. Pippi Longstocking, by Astrid Lindgren


She's the first strong, smart and feisty heroine I'd come across in a book. Being raised on a steady diet of Disney films (I re-watched Sleeping Beauty almost everyday - hey, we didn't have Internet back then), Pippi Longstocking was a culture shock. She didn't hang around waiting for her prince to come, or loiter in forests singing with woodland animals, or ogle at cute boys on ships. Okay, so Belle from Beauty and the Beast wasn't so bad, but she was locked up too many times for my liking, first by the beast and then by Gaston. But Pippi was in a league of her own. I wanted to be her sidekick and get strung along on her adventures (because I was too chicken to go on adventures on my own, like her).


5. (More) Tales from Fairyland, by Enid Blyton



Personally, I think no kid lit list is complete without good old Enid Blyton. It is mind-boggling that kids these days don't know of her. Hello? She's a kid lit classic! There may be people who think her stories are too morally-righteous and repetitive, but she was the first author I remember reading (just before I entered primary school, if memory serves me well). My dad recommended her to me and bought me The Lost Beads, which was the first of her books I'd ever read. And her stories are so charming and delightful.

6. A Little Princess, by Frances Hodgson Burnett
 

I think I read it when I was 9? I identified with the main character because she was really close to her dad, and the story is about the days after her dad's untimely death and her chronicles in the boarding school she was subsequently sent to.

7. The Witches, by Roald Dahl
 
Yup. I've yet to find someone who doesn't like Roald Dahl. (Don't you just hate it, by the way, when pushy mothers squawk, "Read Ronald Dahl! Read Ronald Dahl!" at their kids in bookstores? Like, back off, woman, and get the pronunciation right.) I LOVE The Witches. It was just the right blend of sinister and exciting and sweetness. The BFG is a close second, along with Matilda. But The Witches hit all the right notes with its creepiness. My favourite chapter was the one around the beginning, where the narrator's grandmother taught him how to distinguish a witch from normal women. Delicious writing.


8. And of course, Harry Potter, by J.K. Rowling

 
Of course. I picked Order of the Phoenix because it's my favourite of all the seven. Mostly because it's the longest and I got to hang out with the characters more and linger in the wizarding world longer, and also because there is action and emotion and character quirks and interaction building up to the climax that made the scene at the Ministry of Magic all the more heart-wrenching. Plus, the Weasley twins giving their best fuck-you to Umbridge. Nothing can top that. (In my head, Fred is still alive and having the time of his life managing Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes with George.)


 
I could go on and on with this list, but I think children's books that sprouted even after I'm "too old" for them are also worth a mention. I completely do not buy into the whole "too old for children's book" spiel literary snobs like to give. Kid lit is definitely not inferior to adult lit - it requires just as much effort and skill to craft a story that will entice young readers and keep them glued until the very last page. To think that adult lit is a more worthwhile form of literature than kid lit - or in fact, any form of literature is superior to others - is to undermine readers of the latter.
 
And really, where does anyone get off deciding what is the right thing to read at a certain age? With so many distractions nowadays, we should be glad children are still reading at all. It's so common to see kids glued to their smart phones and gadgets these days that to find one kid who reads* while he is walking makes me ridiculously happy. So happy I almost asked to take a photo with him.**
 
*(He was reading Bridge to Terabithia, if you're curious. Yes, I peeked.)
**(I didn't, eventually, mostly because I was afraid it might deter the kid from reading in public ever again.)
 
Anyway, my point is, you are never too old for kid lit, just like:
 

There are so many lovely children's books these days that I wish I were a kid again and discovering them the way I had discovered the above books. 
 
 
Here are some recommendations, along with one from my To-Read pile (which, at last count, has hit the ceiling at 156 books):
1. The Mysterious Benedict Society, by Trenton Lee Stewart


Who it's for: the kid who loves solving puzzles and fantasizes about going on adventures. It's a little on the long side, but it's like Order of the Phoenix, such a fun read you'd rather it kept going on. 


2. Wildwood, by Colin Meloy


I read this one a while back, but I think it's about this pair of children who venture into Wildwood, another world of its own - nay, a kingdom - ruled by animals, because the girl's baby brother was abducted or something. Fun read, reminiscent of The Mysterious Benedict Society. Only with animals that talk.
 
 
3. Drift House, by Dale Peck


Read it, loved it, and later found it in the National Library book sale, yay!


4. From my To-Read pile, The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place, by Maryrose Wood 


Children's books sure have prettier cover designs these days. Not that those in the past were awful, but I mean look at the cover illustrations! So cute. Can't wait to read this!

So what books did you read when you were young, and what children's books are you still reading now?