Book launch recaps

I'M A PUBLISHED AUTHOR NOW!!! *does happy dance*

This isn't the be-all and end-all of everything, of course, but it's a good start. Yesterday's book launch was a success, and although I was a tangle of nerves on-stage and missed out a good part of the speech I prepared I didn't do a Jennifer Lawrence, tripping up the stairs, and my mind didn't go blank.

My baby

 

 

The other winners of Beyond Words Novel-writing Competition (from left): Danny, Julian and Justine, with our lovely (camera-shy) editor, Geraldine Mesenas (in green)

 

 

 

Big congrats to the other winners, and huge thanks to the Straits Times publishing team and National Arts Council for all the organising and planning and execution. Our babies owe a lot to you. Thanks also to the wonderful people in my life who've supported and encouraged me and offered invaluable and candid (the best kind) feedback. I really hope you'll enjoy LAMBS FOR DINNER! Thanks also to my blog readers - commenters and lurkers alike.

 

 

 





The book will be available on Amazon by June 15, and in major bookstores in Singapore by this weekend. The e-book will be out next year. Go grab a copy, and if you do enjoy it please tell your friends to tell their friends!

RELEASE DAY!

I am BEYOND STOKED. I've dreamed of this for so long and finally I get to publish my very first book. And it's a book I actually like and don't wish to stash away in the darkest corner of my drawer.

LAMBS FOR DINNER is a young adult contemporary romance about a girl whose imaginary childhood friend is reappearing in her life after she meets a mysterious boy with a dark and violent past.

Those in Singapore, do grab a copy from any leading bookstore after today! The e-book will be released sometime next year (watch this space for updates). Hope you'll enjoy Drew and Skye's story!

Best-selling author of THE SCORPIO RACES and the Mercy Falls trilogy Maggie Stiefvater dispenses some invaluable advice on writing query letters and your book.

This is some timely advice as I begin receiving rejection letters from the literary agents I queried for BLOOD PROMISE. A couple of them have requested for partials, but nothing has quite hit the mark yet.

In the meantime, I'm working on the novel I've been wanting to write since the second semester of my sophomore year of uni. UNTIL MORNING started out as a play for my Advanced Playwriting (EN3271) class, and I've toyed around with the idea of having my characters meeting in a dream since then. But I still needed to work out the kinks in the story, which was why I decided to get BLOOD PROMISE out first.

And now I'm on a roll. The first 100 or so pages are always exciting to write, like the words are spilling out too fast for your fingers to keep up. So I'm going to power through until I can't, and then I'll find a way to power through again, just like I did for BLOOD PROMISE.

I know this is a repost of the link, but I can't find any other GIF compilation that sums up the writing process as succinctly and hysterically as this one from ex-literary agent and writer, Nathan Bransford. Also, this chart:

 

So to my fellow writers:

 

 

Short Story - Hands

From writing prompt:

10-minute free write - use the following words: memory, mother, hands, avocado green, and sharp.

Here's my attempt:

My earliest memory of my mother is the scars on the back of her hands. They crisscrossed like braided rivers all the way to her wrists, some raw and pink, some dulled to the colour of plum. They ran in all directions in choppy slashes, sudden and petty, the mire of tender skin tissues like a monstrous art. I never dared to ask about them, and she never spoke about them, just regarded them – even the fresh ones – like they were part of her anatomy.

I remember the balm my father used to apply – or tried to, at least – on those fresh wounds. It was avocado green, runny and smelled like yoghurt left past its expiration date in the fridge. He would chase after her with the putrid tub of balm, his voice laced with exasperation, the way you would coax a child to bed. My mother would end up locking herself in the bathroom for hours, the sounds of her sobs hacking at the door. Eliza and Dad would wait outside, and finally they would send me to talk to her.

I was the only one who could always bring my mother out. Not my father, who applied balm on her wounds and tucked her to bed; not my sister, who took her hand in both of hers and led her to somewhere quieter so she would stop fixating on the possibility of drowning in noise, in the sea of people, in heat, in regret, in memories. Me. Always, she wanted just me.

Me, who did nothing because there was nothing I dared to do, nothing I could do. Me, who hid behind walls when she called for me, because I was afraid of her, even though a part of me wanted to run into her arms. Me, who struggled a little when she eventually pulled me towards her because her nails were too sharp and dug a little too hard into my skin.

Later, she would let me run my fingers over her old scars as she stroked my hair and rocked me back and forth on the bathroom floor. My fingers would shake a little at first, but later those ridges of flesh became a map of sorts, one that led me back to my mother, and my mother back to the world.

So ever since I blogged about my experience interning at Cosmo, I've been getting some comments from blog readers who are also aspiring to join the magazine industry. Here's an insightful post by Cosmo features editor Denise Li about what it's really like behind the scenes. Hope it helps!

on dreams

I'm on the last leg of BLOOD PROMISE. The final chapter. I've leapt over the hurdle that is the climax of act three, and am now reeling in the aftermath, much like what my characters are doing. And maybe it's because I'm just about ten pages to the end that I'm feeling the pressure to make the resolution as gratifying as it should be.

This book has taken quite a while. Since its conception as a short story of the same title, which I wrote last February, I've been struggling to get it right. Writing, rewriting, ripping out pages, ripping out scenes, even shifting the climax from the first act to the third and final act. Making sure each character sounds consistent (I'm writing from three first-person point-of-view. Yes, I'm aware of how ambitious that is), making sure the story trots along at the right pace, making sure no phrase sounds awkward or clumsy or distracts the reader from the story, making sure not to give away too much at the beginning but not play coy either.

There was the saggy middle that I experienced, like many authors seem to as well. The mid-story goblin that strikes around page 150 or so invariably seems to elbow its way between the writer and the story, so that you gradually feel detached from it, and can't seem to get back into the zone. The first and last 100 pages are always exciting to write; it's the middle portion that's terrifying, because that's usually when we usually start to lose momentum. But if we can get past that, the rest comes really easily and we - or at least, I - tend to fly through the final act.

And after completion of the book, all I remember is how fun it had been to write it. And I go back and do it again.

Yes, it had been agonising to write this one, but I love it when the story takes on a life of its own, grows a mind of its own, and takes over the reins. I love being led along by it and discovering a route that I didn't think to let it take me, because that's when the better stuff comes out. Too much planning, for me, kills the story. Since I already know what's going to happen, I'll feel like I'm just going through the motions, writing what needs to be written. Sometimes, letting go a little yields something unexpected.

I wish the same can be said for my real life. Because it's all well and good to talk about letting go and losing yourself and finding a part of you in the process. It all sounds romantic and idyllic and noble, to fight for something you want.

But when reality gets in the way, and there are expectations to fulfil, there's only so much you can do to fight for your dream. I'm just going to say it right here: my ultimate goal is to be a best-selling full-time author. Guess that isn't news to many. But most people think I'm just kidding. They either don't believe that is my real dream, or if they do, that I need to grow up, pull my head out of the clouds and assume some responsibility already. I guess it's true I need to realise that I have to earn my own keep, achieve something, be somebody.

But I don't understand WHY I have to do it the "conventional" way, by doing what everyone expects a graduate to do: get a white-collar job, report to work at 9am everyday, check emails, go for lunch breaks, answer to an equally frazzled boss, knock off at 6pm, and repeat that cycle for five days a week, then on weekends go shopping in a packed mall, squeeze with everyone else in a packed train, and dread the coming Monday and look forward to Friday.

The proverbial rat race, defined as an endless, self-defeating, or pointless pursuit by Wikipedia, is exactly what I don't want to leap into. When I was in secondary school, I worked hard to get the results I wanted for O'levels so I could get into the junior college with (in my opinion) the nicest uniform (yes, I was shallow even then). When I was in junior college, I worked hard to prove to the people who had high hopes for me - teachers, peers, family members - that they hadn't misplaced their belief in me. When I entered university, I started to wonder what I'm doing all this for. What do I really want out of all this. What am I trying to prove to myself and the people around me? That I can? What if I can?

I'm not saying education is a trap. It would be too huge a logical leap to think that. I'm grateful for the education my father has worked hard to provide for me. I enjoyed learning the stuff I did in uni, as I mentioned before. But when I think of my life after uni, all I feel is dread. Dread that I'd have to become a pack rat, join the rat race, keep pounding on that treadmill, striving for that promotion that people expect me to get, that marriage, that 2.5 kids and the white picket fence - instead of working for that dream that I've had since I was 13: to write fiction for a decent living.

Here's a quote from David Foster Wallace, an American Pulitzer Prize-nominated novelist: "... real freedom ... is being educated, and understanding how to think. The alternative is unconsciousness, the default setting, the rat race, the constant gnawing sense of having had, and lost, some infinite thing."

May we all be in conscious pursuit of that infinite thing.

I'm in the last leg of BLOOD PROMISE, at page 266, and the pressure is mounting. To deliver a mind-blowing climax, to wrap up this novel that I've been working on since last year, to pound out the complete first draft by the end of this month.

This has to be perfect. But it isn't. It's far from perfect. It's messy and heavy-handed and there are some parts that are evidently not well thought-out. I know it's just the first draft and everyone expects the first draft to pretty much suck, but UGH it's frustrating. Some days, the scenes play out vividly in your head and your fingers struggle to keep up with your thoughts; and some days, NOTHING. Every attempt at the next sentence feels hackneyed and contrived.

I'm four pages (about 1,000 words) behind schedule today, and I don't think I can pound them out by bedtime.

On a more positive note, I had a pretty surreal dream last night. About a girl begging a boy not to kill her. And the boy doesn't, because he loves her despite the fact that they're from warring factions, and extracts all her memories instead, storing them in a tree of moons.

There was a whole other mess of voices and consequences, and it ended up with a girl crying pretty hard. I was watching her cry, until I became the girl crying. I cried so hard in my dream that I woke myself up.

I lay in bed for a while more, struggling to recapture my dream, and came up with a rough plot for SHINY NEW NOVEL.

Gotta love REM sleep. They're the best breeding ground for bizarre random ideas for writing.

Update on books (what else?)

How is it that I only just discovered this amazing website?

It's got blog posts on writing advice from YA authors like Lish McBride (HOLD ME CLOSER, NECROMANCER, which was a really fun supernatural romp) and Laurie Faria Stolarz (BLUE IS FOR NIGHTMARE), advice on setting and POV and creating conflict in your story, and how to differentiate a YA novel from an adult novel. I especially love this one by McBride, in which she writes for young adults. It's true. People often dismiss YA fiction, thinking they're easier to write than adult fiction. Well literary snobs, news flash: a story is a story. Crafting one is difficult, no matter what genre they're in or what demographic they're targeted at. McBride also shares her thoughts on her own writing process, and Stolarz gives some pretty sound advice for writers.

And I just realised I haven't spoken about this book, GRAFFITI MOON by Cath Crowley, yet! I read it a couple of months back, and fell completely in love with it.

Here's the excerpt and blurb from goodreads:


"Let me make it in time. Let me meet Shadow. The guy who paints in the dark. Paints birds trapped on brick walls and people lost in ghost forests. Paints guys with grass growing from their hearts and girls with buzzing lawn mowers."

It’s the end of Year 12. Lucy’s looking for Shadow, the graffiti artist everyone talks about.

His work is all over the city, but he is nowhere.

Ed, the last guy she wants to see at the moment, says he knows where to find him. He takes Lucy on an all-night search to places where Shadow’s thoughts about heartbreak and escape echo around the city walls.

But the one thing Lucy can’t see is the one thing that’s right before her eyes.


The prose is lyrical and funny and poignant, full of heart and wit, while the characters are flawed and bumbling and real and uncertain but hopeful. Gotta love some teen angst in a YA novel. Crowley's characters, Lucy and Ed/Shadow, convey a certain sense of whimsy without coming across as pretentious or annoying. They are funny, witty and like all young adults, they dream. They are fearful and excited about their future, and in that one night after their Year 12 exams they find a piece of the future in each other.

It's the kind of book I wish I had written.

And yet another book I wish I can write: DAUGHTER OF SMOKE AND BONE by Laini Taylor.

I've talked (more like gushed and raved) about this book before here, but now that the sequel to DAUGHTER is out, called DAYS OF BLOOD AND STARLIGHT, I decided to reread DAUGHTER because that's the whole problem with writing an amazing series. It takes a long time to perfect the book and get it published and by the time it's released readers would've forgotten what happened in the previous book.

I'd like to say I'll write something as amazing as this one day, but that day seems pretty far away for now, because Taylor's writing is UP THERE. In terms of plot (tightly woven), pacing (riveting), characters (a main character who is not too cloying or or clueless or damsel-in-distress-y, but not too unbelievably tough and brave either) and prose (OH GOSH THE PROSE! I can go nuts just talking about it).

And it looks like I'm not the only one who thinks the world of this book from the National Book Award finalist. Joe Roth, the producer of ALICE IN WONDERLAND from Universal Studios, will be making the DAUGHTER OF SMOKE AND BONE movie. I'm always hesitant about movie adaptation of books, because once a book hits the silver screen somehow it feels like it's being shared with the rest of the world and doesn't belong to you alone now. I know it sounds dumb, but I like discovering a wonderful book and living in my version of the world the book's created, without a bunch of fanatics who snatch the book off the shelves after they've watched the movie and gotten into the hype. So I'm keeping my fingers crossed that DAUGHTER and SHIVER (by the multitalented New York Times bestselling author Maggie Stiefvater, whose book is going to be made into a movie though the details are still in the works) will not rob me of the memories associated with discovering and living in the worlds those stories have created.

I've also gotten my hands on THE CURIOSITIES, an anthology of short stories by the Merry Sisters of Fate, a writing critique group that comprises of Maggie Stiefvater, Brenna Yovanoff (THE REPLACEMENT) and Tessa Gratton (BLOOD MAGIC). They used to each write a short story every week on their website, which is now defunct. It's so nice to have a tight circle of friends who love to write as much as you do, who put up with your writing quirks and rip your stories to shreds and cheer you on when you're in a writing funk, whom you can learn from and hone your craft together with.

So if anyone is willing to be in a committed writing relationship, drop a comment here or email me at jcxw2590@yahoo.com.sg. I am not kidding. I want my own Merry Fates circle! After taking those playwriting classes in university, I've come to realise how fun and helpful it is to be part of a group of creative, talented (and angsty - sorry, guys, but we were kinda angsty!) writers. Sadly, though, it's hard to find people who can spare the time to devote to their writing, unless we're all full-time writers. Otherwise, you know, life just gets in the way.

According to dreamdictionary.org, this is what my recurring dream means:


Scared of Flying:
Flying in a dream can either be exhilarating or a nightmare depending the dream. Not being able to control your flight in your dream is rare but it does happen from time to time. Scared of flying has everything to do with lack of control in your life. Dreams of this nature suggest you have trouble controlling the path in your life. No matter what you do there is some interference. You have to ask yourself what is causing me to be afraid to take control of my life, and how to get back on track. Another possibility is with being afraid to fly is that you might be having trouble keeping up with the high goals you set. You may feel that you can crash at anytime.


I'm no Freud or Jung, but that is a completely spot-on analysis of my dream. I've been dreaming of flying for a few nights now, and no it's not as liberating as you think it'd feel. While takeoff was easy, I had a million worries while I was soaring through the sky.

Basically, in the dream it is night, and the city is twinkling below me. It's cold and I worry about not having enough to wear. It's high and I worry about falling - that fear plagues me consistently throughout the dream. It's not quite the witching hour yet so there are people on the streets, and I worry about being seen. My toes are freezing up, and I want to go higher but I don't quite dare to.

Always, there is something holding me back. But the wind rushes past me, and my cheeks are cold. I want to feel freer than I am.

Two good links to share:

1. Laini Taylor, author of the award-winning novel DAUGHTER OF SMOKE AND BONE, shares some writing advice.

2. Mandy A, an aspiring author like me, blogs about her love for writing. It brought tears to my eyes, knowing that someone out there feels the same way about writing fiction as me. This writing business - it's a long and winding road, full of bumps and uncertainty. It's a gamble, a leap of faith. Sometimes, you just need to know you're not alone in this.

I borrowed an hour to meet up with my book editor yesterday to discuss my manuscript, LAMBS FOR DINNER. Can I just say that even though I don't seem excited about having my book published, my heart actually does a somersault every time I think about it? I'm just trying not to get my hopes up too much before anything's said and done.

Anyway, so I met up with Geraldine, who is super nice and very dedicated to making local YA a much bigger thing in Singapore than it is now. She brought along her pages of hand-scribbled notes and listed out which parts of the manuscript she loved and had problems with:

1. Drew - she loved him. As do I. I think it's obvious to anyone reading it that the character has a special place in my heart. I didn't have to work very hard on getting his voice right, or making it consistent, because his voice was just IN MY HEAD THE WHOLE TIME I wrote the story. Drew is irreverent, defiant, and there's this quote from Rainer Maria Rilke's LETTERS TO A YOUNG POET that I feel describes him: "Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love." I had loads of fun writing Drew.

2. Skye - my editor didn't quite love as much. And come to think of it, all my female protagonists sound alike. They're insipid, two-dimensional characters who observe rather than act. I don't know if this is a reflection of myself, but I somehow always seem to relegate my main character to a supporting character. Geraldine thinks Skye's history and inner emotions should be played up, or at least revealed, more, so that the readers can empathise with her better and actually WANT to read her story and not wonder why Drew would fall for such a watered-down character. Geraldine and I discussed female protagonists from books like Becca Fitzpatrick's HUSH, HUSH and Cassandra Clare's THE MORTAL INSTRUMENTS, and I grew to understand my responsibility as a female writer to present a believable character whom readers would be able to relate to and WANT to relate to.

3. Pool she liked, and wishes I can dig deeper and flesh out the nuances of the character even more.

4. The abduction was confusing to her because of many missing details and explanations. I was afraid I might overload the reader with too much information and have them skip over paragraphs, which was why I did more showing through dialogue and action rather than telling via exposition. But tell too much and you risk boring your readers; show too much and you risk confusing them by leaving too much up to interpretation.

5. The ending kind of got derailed, according to her. She said I started off the story with a strong build up, but then the ending became about something else - a subplot - and the main thread got lost or forgotten or skimmed across too conveniently to the extent of being unrealistic. For example, would a girl whose repressed memories of her abduction when she was six years old still leads to her experiencing panic attacks be able to forgive her abductor so easily when she meets him again after twelve years? Geraldine says there needs to be some form of closure for Skye.

It does seem like my story is too scant on the details now that I read back on it. As writers, we often don't see the faults of our stories because that's how the stories come to us. But to a reader, there are many things that may not add up or are not wholly developed. Which is why it's so nice to have an editor with a fresh pair of professional eyes point out the problems with my story and suggest ways to improve.

I left that lunch meeting with Geraldine wishing more than ever that I could write fiction full-time.

So that's it. I've just told my editor I'm not staying.

My friends think I'm stupid for doing that, since it's my first job and they think I should suck it up and stick it out.

I did agonise about leaving for weeks, wondering if I should really take up my editor's offer to extend my contract for three more months before deciding. It's not a bad job, and the hours are forgiving (10am to 7pm, which gives me time to swim in the morning). My editor isn't an unreasonable boss, either, just occasionally frustrated when I make the same mistakes.

But the environment is, dare I say it, sterile, and the workload heavy and never-ending. I barely have time for water cooler breaks, much less lunch. If I take time out to eat, I'd never be able to finish my work on time and I'd have to stay on longer in the office. I don't want to be one of those people who stay in the office the entire day and go home just to sleep. Even if it's my first job and I need to pay my dues, this is not how I want to live. I'm in my twenties!

My dad told me to ask myself what I really REALLY want. To be happy at a job, or to to do well at a job but come home tired and stressed out every day. He asked me if I head to work with a sense of dread every day, and I realise that the good mood I start out with at the start of the day (I hum, I prance, and I just made myself sound like an idiot) is slowly but surely chipped away at by the end of the day.

Some days, just when I feel like I am in control of my work and can actually do this, I'm tossed a new assignment that I have no idea how to tackle. And with concurrent assignments I feel like I can't keep track of everything that needs to be done or covered; there's always something I forget or miss out, and that's the case for every assignment I've had so far. There's only so many mistakes you can make before you majorly piss someone off, and I know no matter how hard I try I will make more mistakes because I can't multitask THAT well.

Anyway, the bottomline is, I don't know what I want yet in terms of a full-time career (well, I do, but the one I have in mind isn't practical - according to my dad, it's just a HOBBY), but I know what I don't want. I'm not a journalist, never have been - I'm not curious, I don't probe, I'm not meticulous, I couldn't care less about details. I just like to write. I don't know where my love for writing (fiction) will take me, but I know that journalism is not something I want to do for long. It'll only be a matter of time before I leave.

On an unrelated note, it's been raining non-stop since 1am last night, which means it's been raining for 12 hours straight. I've been waiting since 8am to go for a swim, which means I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR FIVE WHOLE HOURS. I am soooo restless it's killing me! I tried pacing, I tried lifting weights, I tried dancing (or in my case, just jiggling about like an idiot), but nothing seems to work. I NEED TO SWIM. This need is gnawing away at my insides; I feel so trapped. Yes, I'm crazy, but this shouldn't come as news to you.

I'm trying to write (at page 234 of FIFTEEN MINUTES now), but I just get so distracted. If only I could swim.

Dreams of flying

In my dreams I take flight. The air is cold, biting. My body hovers in mid-air and always, always there is the fear I would fall. The wind rushes around me and seeps through my toes.

In a single motion I sweep into the air, my body weightless. It is a terrifying sort of freedom, flying. The city is a map of lights below, a web of twinkling gossamer, each pinprick a lonely beacon.

I drift higher. The air nips harder at my face and my breath departs as mist. Always, I wonder when I will fall.

it's all about people

That's the National Arts Council-Media Development Authority networking session at Singapore Writers Festival, for those unacquainted with the acronyms. It was the first of such things I've ever been invited to, so I didn't really know what to expect.

It was held at the TCC at the Singapore Management University (SMU), and there were 20 writers and 20 media representatives gathered there. There was a buffet dinner served throughout the 2-hour session, and it was cosy and people there already seemed to know each other well. But it wasn't as awkward as it should have been for me. Maybe because meeting people is a large part of my new job, so I'm already getting accustomed to it.

The well-known local writers like Verena Tay, Ovidia Yu, Josephine Chia and Jeremy Tiang were there, along with industry experts like literary agent Fran Lebowitz, Francesca Main (editorial director from Picador. Picador!!), Prem Anand (who wrote THE NOOSE, so he's the one responsible for making us laugh), Jean Yeo (director/film-maker who turned Catherine Lim's THE LEAP YEARS into a movie), and many others.

And then there are the first-time authors like me. There's also J, who's a stay-home mother and wrote a book called THE MAGIC MIXER, where a mother uses this, well, magic mixer to bring together all the traits she would like in her children. And then there's K, a Korean who used to live all over the world and nis now living in Singapore, managing a lithium mine in South America. No surprise that his book is an Indiana Jones type of young adult action-thriller that sees the protagonist leaping across the globe. I'm actually quite excited to read his book.

Verena Tay brought a seemingly inexhaustible supply of her latest book to distribute to those present, while Ovidia Yu was a ball of energy in her trainers and jogging tights, bounding about the room with her easy smile and wide eyes.

Then Fran Lebowitz hobbled in with a bad leg - some sort of accident she recently had, and Josephine Chia went over to help her settle into a chair. I sat around talking with Prem, Verena and Jean before we started proper at 7.45pm. The first three writers who were slated to go before me all couldn't make it that night, so I turned out to be the first speaker.

Yes, lucky me.

Not.

I totally had a speech prepared and all. But I decided to wing it and not show that I was nervous (because what spells nervous more than a prepared speech?), so I cut my speech shorter by more than half. Instead of reciting my blurb, I tossed a one-liner about my book and squeaked, "Thank you!" before scurrying back to my seat.

Oh yeah, I was so cool.

But the audience were nice about my being nervous, and after all the writers had finished pitching their stories and it was networking time Francesca and Fran told me I actually did okay with my pitch, though Francesca wished I could've talked more since it sounded pretty interesting. Fran Lebowitz*! I read her book, TALES FROM A BROAD, when I was in secondary school and it was so funny and entertaining. Plus, she's been an agent for 15 years and have met many authors and industry experts from the UK, US, attended and spoke at many conferences, seen many manuscripts, represented bestselling authors.

(*Let me clarify. This is not Frances Ann Lebowitz, the American author. It's another Fran.)

So to have her tell me how much she enjoyed my story, LAMBS FOR DINNER, was such a huge honour. She said it was "perfect YA" and it was "sexy, gritty, funny with a storyline that flows naturally and strong characters". Then she told me she was the one who voted for my story to be the top 2 out of all the entries they received for the Beyond Words: Young and Younger 2011 competition organised by NAC. I was completely blown away, but I didn't want to gush too much in case I came across too hysterical or fake. She said what she liked about my manuscript was that it wasn't set in just Singapore; it had a setting that was universal, so she could focus on the story rather than the setting, since the setting is supposed to bring out the story, not the other way around.

Also, she pointed out the contradiction that government grants set out with: they want local writers to go international with their stories, but they want their stories to be uniquely local. She said that she, as a reader, is sometimes unable to relate or even understand some of the references or dialogue in the stories.

I think you can retain the local flavour without losing your international audience, but it is true that locally-flavoured stories seem to be favoured by the guys doling out the arts grants and bursaries.

I'm not going to delve into that topic here, because it might open up a can of worms (or at least, spark some debate), and I'm a Libra; we're peace-loving creatures, so take your arguments somewhere else. I'm just here to relate the things that I've been through, and put some of my thoughts out there (because, trust me, you don't want to know ALL of them).

In all, it was a fruitful session, even if all we did was exchange contacts and sit around and talk. I got to meet nice people, and trade stories about the writing journey with other authors. I think meeting people for the first time is a lot like going for a run. You feel sort of reluctant to do it at first, you have to drag your feet and force yourself not to wimp out. But then you psych yourself up for it, and then you do it, and you're glad you did ultimately.

Writing itself, though, is like swimming. You just want want want to do it, and you're always glad you did, even on the days your strokes aren't as smooth or when your shoulders ache - the more you write, the longer you swim, as long as you keep going the going gets smoother and eventually you won't be able to stop.

Notes from Korea trip

Things note-worthy about the Korea trip:

 

1. Koreans dress well. Like, seriously. The entire street of Seoul is filled with good-looking, well-dressed, well made-up people. For ladies: stockings, cute boots, coats, scarves, sleek and shiny hair, combed lashes, porcelain complexion. And the guys look spiffy in their sweaters, vests, slim-cut jeans and loafers. Even our coach driver (who's sort of cute and is very polite and gentlemanly: see picture below) wears a suit to work. Koreans really do seem to put a lot of stock into their appearance, and that's not a bad thing. Better a whole street of immaculately-dressed people than sloppily-dressed ones, right?

 

 

 

2. Seoul is very much like Singapore, which isn't surprising, given how both are pretty metropolitan. The traffic in Seoul, however, is far worse than that in Singapore. The jams can last for hours, since the roads are too narrow and there are too many cars on the road.

 

3. Koreans don't seem to like Japanese a lot, given their history. Singaporean's might have been invaded by the Japanese before, but our older generation don't seem to detest them the way the older generation of Koreans seem to. They seem more receptive towards Chinese than Japanese.

 

4. Jeju is absolutely delightful. Period. It's not a UNESCO World Site for no reason. Fields of wildflowers, the expanse of sea and sky stretched out before you, cliffs of basaltic rock (Jeju is a volcanic island), the salty sea breeze in your hair. I enjoyed the four days in Jeju more than in Seoul, since we mostly just shopped in Seoul. And shopping in Seoul in the month of October yields practically nothing. The clothes they sell are winter wear that I can't possibly wear in sunny Singapore, so I only ended up with a wallet, a watch, some earrings and notebooks.

 

 

5. Koreans aren't really the most well-mannered people in the world. Not at all. They push, they shove, and the don't apologise for pushing and shoving; they cut queues, they talk loudly; they don't move out of the way even though they see you coming and they need to move. That said, though, their service staff are friendly and professional; it's just the people on the street who give them a bad name.

 

6. Koreans eat a lot of meat. Practically every meal we ate consisted of barbecued pork or chicken, along with seaweed, miso soup and of course, kimchi. Still, given that I'm a meat-lover (can't help it - it's just too good), I'm not complaining. Although sometimes it's nice to go a little light on meals. Good thing we had hotel breakfast on occasion, so I could load up on greens.

 

 

 

7. Koreans take pride in their heritage and identity. They are one of the three "pure blooded" ethnic groups in the world, like the Jews (I forget the last one) - no racial mixing - and they are deeply nationalistic partly because of that. There is discrimination of mixed-bloods, like my tour guide, who's Korean Chinese - he was passed up for a bank job in favour of a full-blooded Korean, before he went to become a tour guide.

 

8. Korea is cleaner than Singapore. Even the public toilets are clean, dry and stocked with toilet paper. No questionable grime on the door handle or footprints on the toilet or dirty water on the floor.

 

9. The cost of living in Korea is ridiculously high. An apple for S$2.50, a box of grapes (less than 500g) for S$5.00, and a typical meal costs at the very least S$7.00, even something from the roadside stalls. My dad and I spent about S$300 in a week on groceries alone.

 

10. The younger generation of Korean guys are pretty gentlemanly. The older generation might be reputed to be chauvinistic, but the younger guys I've come across are affectionate to their girlfriends (this teenage guy piggybacked his girlfriend at the amusement park when she was straining to catch a glimpse of the floats) and filial to their mothers (this guy who couldn't be older than 20 scrambled to open up his umbrella to shield his mother from the drizzle and put his arm around her to lead her across the road). They're big on family and responsibility.

 

I'm trying to upload all the 1000 over photos on Facebook, but 'tis an arduous task and I've just about exhausted all my patience after countless failed attempts. So I'm just going to try again tomorrow!

Post-graduation nostalgia

So it's the start of semester for some of my peers. I see their status updates on Twitter and Facebook about start-of-semester woes, and I feel a pang of envy.

I miss school. I miss going for lectures, tutorials, even those agonising three-hour seminars that I used to dread. I miss gossiping about lecturers, having breakfast in the canteen before class, those annoying preps promoting their bake sales or hall productions along the AS1 walkway. I miss the bustle along that common walkway, dodging past gaggles of people to get to class. I miss the start-of-semester anticipation of the content I'm about to learn, the assignments I'd have to do, the new people I'm going to meet and work with.

University was the best part of my academic life. I know I've moaned and bitched about the pointlessness of what I was learning, but compared to the curriculum of secondary school and junior college, university has exposed me to so many more trend of thoughts, ideas, theories, and encouraged me to think longer and deeper about the things I read, as well as approach it from different perspectives. I know I risk sounding like a nerd, but I truly enjoyed writing those (individual) papers for assignment. I remember scouring the library and Google books for references and links, and there was always, always room for independent thought and expression. The best lecturers I've had in NUS were those who encouraged in-class discussion and facilitated it well. Language and the Workplace, and Language Planning and Policy were the two modules I learned a lot from. Prof Wee is concise, eloquent (I swear, he talks like he's writing a thesis. If I transcribe his lecture, you'd understand. How does that mind of his spin so quickly!). Heavenly Mathematics was another module that I enjoyed thoroughly, because Prof Aslaksen (I really hope I got that spelling right) was so passionate about what he was teaching it practically radiates from him. It seems the role of the educator shouldn't be undermined in the process of learning.

Three years, over just like that. Part of me wishes I were back in school, while another part is happy where I am interning at Cosmo.

I'd like to stay on, if they have a position open. Pay aside, this is what I want. This internship allows me to attend events where I meet different people from different industries, get to know what they do; plus, I get to write about these events (tastings, product launches, etc). I've been to other interviews for other industries and jobs, and the working environment either seems too stale, or there is no corporate ladder to scale, or the job scope just bores me no end. After an interview last week, I returned to the Cosmo office and the difference in the working environment was so palpable. Here, it's bustling and humming with activity and voices. And the topics aren't about finance, the economy, politics and the like. Here, we talk about fluffy things: makeup, beauty products, scents, boys, fashion, food, travel. The only thing I can think of that's holding me back is the pay. But we can't have the best of both worlds, right?

I can't believe I'm ending this entry with a cliche. But it is what is it (and there's another cliche for you!).

the highs and lows of solitude

So, I had lunch with my colleagues on Wednesday. Major wow. Because, me, lunch, with colleagues. Me, a hermit who'd usually rather have lunch with a book and my mp3 for company. And you know, it was nerve-wracking, yes, but it wasn't half-bad. I managed to converse (occasionally) with the three of them without appearing like a weirdo or a fool. I looked almost normal.

And last night, my relatives came over and I actually sat in the living room (for a short while) and engaged in a conversation with them that wasn't half-awkward.

I like to think I'm able to handle social situations with grace and ease, and everyone I meet falls under my spell and adore my charming, endearing self - and even if they don't like me, that I don't care because I'm too comfortable in my skin to care about a few haters. But of course, that isn't true. The truth is, I worry  too much about how I'm perceived by people. Sure, it's easy to think that I'm beyond caring about what others think about me. But I'm always too worried about whether I'm too boring or weird or idiotic company, or whether people would rather hang out with someone other than me. And as a result, I clam up. I run a million conversation starters and topics through my head and gun down every one of them because they're too boring, weird or idiot (as above). And then my silence makes the people around me even more uncomfortable because, why is this strange girl not talking? Is she bored, tired, stuck-up, or just plain rude? The whole process of hanging out then becomes equally painful for every party.

People think I'm too standoffish, and I guess that's true. But it's not because I dislike them enough not to want to talk to them, but because I don't know what to say. It sometimes gets tiring, worrying so much about what others think. But I can't help it. I think too much. Everyone who knows me tells me that.

I find it easier to convey my thoughts (and personality) in words. You get to think through them (see, again with the thinking - which, in itself, isn't a bad thing, but nothing is ever in itself, is it?) before you put them out there to be carried by the wind, never to be retrieved again.

I used to be normal enough with company, back when I was in secondary school and junior college, and I saw so many people my age everyday. Making friends isn't difficult for me, but maintaining a friendship is the tricky bit. Because it's easy for people to decide you're too much trouble (more trouble than you're worth) and walk out of your life. Especially when they aren't even related to you. It's so easy for people not to make the effort to meet up or hang out and let the friendship fizzle out.

After junior college, when daily social interaction wasn't a must (and also because my closest friends were in polytechnic, and were still schooling while I was free of it), I had more me-time than I ever had in my life. I got used to the idea of walking around town alone, watching a movie alone, shopping alone, having lunch alone... You get the idea. That wasn't a bad thing, per se. Because I had things to do. Like writing the novel I had always wanted to write but was too busy with exams to do so. In those couple of months till the end of 2008, I completed my first standalone novel (that I don't feel the urge to burn upon reading) When the Lilies Turn Orange. Then, it just got easier and easier to be alone - I didn't feel like a loser hanging out with myself. In fact, it was liberating to be unencumbered by company. I could go wherever I liked at any time I pleased without having to consult my company or taking into account what anyone else wanted to do or go, and when.

And that was the start of my solitary lifestyle.

When I entered university, having a co-curricular activity wasn't mandatory, so I wasn't too active in school. And I didn't go for orientation activities, a decision I don't regret even now, because the idea of travelling all the way to school just to play pointless games for three whole days and cheer for your tribe or whatever still doesn't appeal to me. Also, given that everyone basically takes different modules every semester, it's hard to find (and keep) a solid group of friends in school or form friendships that will last for life. In my experience, that is. My closest group(s) of friends are still those I've made in secondary school and junior college.

Before you start thinking I'm a misanthrope, though, I'll state that I don't hate people or mankind, in general. They're mostly nice enough upon first encounter. It's just that they occasionally get tiring to be around, with their own judgements about you, their own value systems and opinions and preferences and expectations of you and their demands. Most of the time people are fine. Sometimes, it's just easier being alone. With a book and an mp3.

I could get used to this

It's my third day as an intern at Cosmopolitan Singapore, and I've pretty much figured out my daily routine.

5.30am: Wake up
6am: Travel to the swimming complex
6.30am: Swim
7.30am: Travel home
8am: Prepare to go to work
8.30am: Set off for the office
9am - 6pm: Work
6.30pm: Reach home
7pm: Dinner
10pm: Lights out

I know. It's the control freak in me. I need routine, I need structure, I need control. That feeling of letting go and cutting yourself some slack? Freaks me out. As long as I have a standard daily schedule, which involves (most importantly) my morning swim, I'm a happy girl ready to take on whatever faces me at work.

And work. Here we are, at last, one foot in the industry I've wanted to be a part of since I was 17 and was advised to start thinking about my future. And Cosmopolitan is one of my favourite magazines - along with Glamour and CLEO - so where better to work than here?

Day One of my internship was almost crushingly dull, since I was just expected to read past issues of the magazine as well as the Cosmo blog to familiarise myself with the writing style. But since I'm a regular reader of the magazine and the blog, I found myself re-reading old articles. Which was fine, I suppose, since I can't expect much of my first day. I'd just been building up all this anticipation in me. There are two other interns - W, who's been around for three weeks, and S, who started a day before me - as well as a new beauty writer C, who started a day before me too. Good thing I'm not the only newbie around because in this environment full of smart and beautiful go-getting women, it can seem a little daunting at times.

Day Two got better, since I was tasked to write the Cosmo Weekend Guide, a weekly section on the Cosmo blog that recommends places to eat, drink and play for the weekend. I was given a quick tutorial on editorials, advertorials and advertisements, too, and gained access to the interns' shared email, which I studied to understand the sort of events Cosmo gets invited to and the products she has access to and is asked to write about. There are hair product launches, wine and food tastings, Kenzo perfume testings, clothe-sourcings (for the fashion interns - sadly, I can't go along since I'm an editorial intern), and on and on. The fashion interns are out every afternoon to go sourcing for clothings that fit a theme the fashion editor sets. Then they come back (with bags and bags of borrowed clothings) and review the clothings, look for images of celebrities wearing a certain trend.

Since Cosmo's office is shared with other Singapore Press Holdings magazines like Harper's Bazaar, CLEO, Shape, and the like, I get to experience not just what it's like in Cosmo, but also these other magazines. Yeah, no earth-shattering revelations, since everyone's just busy at work in their cubby-holes, but I can hear the conversations amongst Harper's Bazaar writers (HB is right next to Cosmo), and boy are they an energetic bunch.

Tomorrow, I have to attend a hair product launch at Swissotel the Stamford at 10am, in place of the editorial assistant. I know this industry isn't all glitz and glamour - I mean, sure, they get beauty product samples and go for tastings and meet pretty people occasionally, but some of them work long hours and are always rushing everywhere for this event and that and sometimes have to eat lunch at their desks - but this is what I've always wanted (apart, of course, from being a full-time author) and this is what I signed up for, so I'd just like to say: this is the start of something good.

In other news, I've met up with my editor, Geraldine, who's going to work with me on my manuscript LAMBS FOR DINNER all the way till publication in December. It's planned to hit the shelves in January next year, if all goes well. I'll post more details about it as we go along! And a big thank you to those who've messaged me regarding this! I appreciate your support. Basically, for now, what might change is the title, since Geraldine thought the link between the story and the title is a little tenuous. I just need to clean up my manuscript and submit the draft by the end of this month, then send it to Straits Times Press for further editing. Given my packed schedule now, though, with driving lessons and the tuition lessons I'm giving on weekends, I can only squeeze in pockets of time for editing while I'm on the bus home or to and from the pool. Still, I can't complain. This is everything I've ever wanted.

Yesterday and today morning, I went for my morning swim earlier than I've ever been. I used to swim at 8am, but because of work I have to swim earlier (I don't like swimming in the evenings because the water's too warm for comfort and because the pool is packed). And between 6.30am and 7.30am, that's when day breaks. I start out when the stars are still hanging in the sky, and I can still see the full moon and Venus, the morning star, and Mercury, steady and constant - and by the time I'm done with my 40 laps, the sky is a gentle shade of pink and orange. The air is cool and crisp, and it's simple beautiful moments like these that make me so thankful I can enjoy all this.

Like I said, give me my morning swim and I'm a happy girl.

what's your name?

By the way, after almost ten years of sticking to the old blog name femme-moi-nin, I've decided to change it tentatively to downthesteps. I know, not as catchy, but I'll come up with something soon-ish.

Things that Vampire Diaries has taught me about writing

1. Every character has his or her own past that you can make full use of to drive the main plot. In other words, each character's history can serve as a subplot to the main plot. The result, if managed well, will be a multilayered yet focused story. In Vampire Diaries, the secret of Elena's parents' death is tied to her eventual meeting with the Salvatore brothers; the town's history with supernatural beings sets the backdrop for its current circumstance (i.e. Mystic Falls as the viewers see it now is a result of what went down decades and centuries ago); the vampires, who have lived through the ages, made countless nemeses and allies along the way, provide plentiful fodder for the show.

2. Every character has his or her own agenda. Everyone has wants, and everyone has one thing they want badly, and would go to all lengths to acquire. Thus transpires secret alliances, compromises and negotiations that may result in betrayals and shifting character dynamics. Damon is far from the straight and narrow, and his agenda is always questionable. You never really know (at least, at the beginning) if he's good or evil, the accomplice or antagonist to his brother Stefan. He makes secret deals just to get what he wants, and even the local sheriff bends the rules occasionally to keep her daughter's identity a secret. With constantly evolving morals and shifting definitions in the extent to which each character is willing to go to protect the thing/people they care about most, the story is given more fuel to run its course.

3. There is no resident hero. Stefan (see right) may be the male lead, but he's gone from the sweet and affectionate boyfriend/broody hero/reformed bad boy with a horrific past archetype in season 1 to the psychopathic serial murderer called the Ripper in season 3 (albeit under a stronger vampire's compulsion). He makes questionable choices, and you sometimes wonder if he's gone so far off the rails that he's never coming back. His love for Elena (and his brother Damon) is what brings him home eventually, and the only thing that grounds him to his humanity. While in season 3 Damon seems to swoop in to take Stefan's place as the hero - by trying to bring his brother back from the dark side and helping him keep his bloodlust in check - he eventually rejects being typecast as the hero, even though Elena strongly believes there is good in him that is simply dormant.

Case in point: season 3 episode 19.

Elena: Why don't you ever let anyone see the good in you?
Damon: When people see good, they expect good. And I don't want to live to anyone's expectations.

Elena makes for a pretty strong and relatable protagonist, though. She's not entirely Buffy the vampire slayer, but she's no Bella Swan either. She makes tough decisions, goes to all lengths to protect the people she loves but is not suicidal, doesn't live just for herself and Stefan, and isn't indomitable. When the audience first gets to know her, she's a regular high school student struggling to move on from her parents' untimely death and trying to stop blaming herself for it. That's when she meets Stefan and decides to begin a new chapter of her life by letting him in it. Over the course of three seasons, she's grown tougher but is still impulsive and often lets her humanity and compassion get in the way of things like, oh, killing vampires along with the Salvatore brothers in order to protect the town.

4. It never hurts to have pretty boys on the show. Just kidding. Well, not really. I just mean that the hero, while good-looking, needs to also be relatable. He needs to have a flaw - something that makes him human - as well as a redeeming quality. Stefan's flaw is his inability to move on from his past. It is what Klaus (big bad powerful vampire who compels Stefan to be his evil minion, hence forcing him to turn his back on Elena, going on a blood binge and turning into the Ripper) used against him to unleash his dark side. His redeeming quality is his pure and true love for Elena, which is what literally saves him from himself ultimately. Damon's flaw is his fear of caring. He cares, but he doesn't want to show his vulnerability. Elena brings out that side of him eventually, but he still behaves like a philandering, smart-mouthed jerk from time to time. But I guess that's just Damon (see below).

It's funny. I started out taking a shot on Vampire Diaries just to indulge in some eye candy a la Ian Somerhalder. But I became hooked after the first episode because of the swift introduction of the call to action, inciting incident (ha, terms learnt in EN2274: Intro to Screenwriting, a module I'm taking this term) and the foreshadowing of impending crises that kept me thoroughly intrigued. I'm just two episodes away from finishing season 3. After that is the interminable wait for season 4, which will only air in October. Oh, the agony! In the meantime, think I'll go rewatch Supernatural.

shy? introverted? arrogant?

I just read this article by Sally Brampton: SHY GIRL, and just thought maybe I'd weigh in on this issue. She said that shy people are more self-absorbed than they realise, because they're too busy worrying about how other perceive them to be involved in the conversation, and this in fact makes them arrogant because they put their needs before those of their interlocuters.

It seems a bit of a reach to say shy people are arrogant. Self-absorbed I can understand, but arrogant seems to suggests a degree of obnoxiousness. Shy people aren't obnoxious, they're just terrified of not being included as part of the group, part of normal, although normalcy remains an elusive concept.

I've been an introvert my whole life. It's just how I am. I don't like to talk about how I feel, especially if I'm upset. Any discussion regarding my mother makes me itch to hop on to another topic. If I think you're being a dick/bitch, I'd just walk away instead of laying out everything I feel. When I'm pissed, I shut down and look out the window in steely silence. Usually the other party would cave in before me, and fill up the silence with his or her own rants. I just draw the blinds while they're at it and let my mind drift to a happier place.

I don't know if it's an inherently Libra trait, peace-loving to the extent of being conflict-avoidant. But it seems easier to agree and eke out a smile than say no and fight for your way. Maybe it's just that I'm too timid to express myself. I'm too worried about what other people will think about me. But in group discussions and tutorial, I have no qualms about offering my opinion if I think it can stimulate a discussion or generate more ideas - even if I don't get points for participation. If your idea is unfeasible, I won't hesitate to point out the problems and offer a counter-solution. I seem to be able to compartmentalise my emotions and behaviour according to circumstance. Is that sociopathic of me?


See, I'm worrying too much about how I may be perceived again. That's self-involvement right there.

I want to think that I'm too used to being alone that I can't be bothered about what people think about me unless they're people I care about. But that's not true. Truth is, I do care. I care what my potential employer thinks about me, so I trip over my words and try desperately to please. I care about what my father thinks about me, so I do whatever I can to make him happy. I care about whether people think I'm boring or weird.

Investing emotions in something or someone is proof of me giving a shit. Social gatherings always reveal how social awkward and inept I really am, so I'd rather hide in my room and act busy just so I wouldn't be forced to make small talk about shit I don't care about and have to pretend I do. It just seems too farcical - what's the point?

No. Shyness is not arrogance. It's caring too much while arrogance is not giving a flying crap. Shyness the antithesis of arrogance. Does this make me arrogant or shy, then? Do you think shyness is narcissistic and arrogant?

Here's what I want to do: I want to be more bold, less inhibited in expressing my opinions. I want to stop caring what other people think about me. I want to look less like a creature that crawled out of its cave at every family gathering or social function, and interact like a normal human being. No, that's not subscribing to herd mentality or succumbing to social conventions. It's the desire to less doubtful of myself, to stop thinking about how I fare in others' eyes and just be.

Restless

I hate waiting.

There are very few things I can say I actually hate. Dislike, yes. But not hate.

But waiting is a whole form of torture all by itself. Just the thought of those seeming-insignificant seconds ticking away, your life slipping out of your grasp with each passing moment, the niggling thought that you should be doing something instead of sit around helplessly, sends pins and needles down my whole body. Jabbing, proding, provoking.

The most surefire way to get under my skin is to waste my time and me me WAIT. I feel like I'm at the mercy of the person(s)/thing(s) making me wait, like my life has to be put on hold and hinge precariously on knife-point until the wait is over.

Doesn't matter if it's family (though I seldom have a problem with that, seeing as how everyone in my family's pretty efficient), friends, cashiers who take their (and hence mine) time, potential employers who say they'll be in touch after an interview, or even the bus, the train, or traffic lights, for goodness' sake! Those minutes add up to a lifetime! Just the wait itself makes me antsy, and unable to focus on anything else but the fact that I AM STILL WAITING.

It's taken me a while, but I have finally figured out what I want most in terms of a career.

Well, okay, maybe not the ultimate MOST. My dream job is still a full-time novelist, but if I can't have that then the next best job is a magazine columnist.

It was something I've considered since junior college, but right then it was still a dream I didn't dare to expand on. Besides, I was too hellbent on writing fiction for a living. Yeah, I was living in a world of my own then. But with graduation looming and the pressure to FIND A JOB ALREADY, I've had to consider other options. A lot of those I could care a lot less about. It seems I'm either obsessed with something or I can't give a shit. Probably not the best attitude to have, but it is what it is.

But this is what I really want. A magazine columnist at CLEO, or Cosmopolitan. Attending events, reviewing beauty products, keeping up with fashion trends, networking, and then writing about them. Having a life, and writing about it.

It's still kinda rose-tinted at the moment. I know the job and industry aren't all glitz and glam, but I do know that I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get a foot in the doorway. And then whatever else it takes to secure the job. THE job. The one I've set my sight on, after a long time of consideration and procrastination.

To say that I screwed up my internship interview last Friday is probably an understatement. I felt like such a socially inept, fumbling CHILD, even though my interviewer was only two years older than me. Her businesslike manner only made me even more nervous. I felt like a desperate, grovelling kid wanting in on the In Crowd in high school. Not cool.

Just let me get this. It's all I ever want.

an update! on ... tv?

Lately, I've been catching up on TV. And I'm not going to feel guilty about that. Because, no output without input, right? I've found that I get more ideas for my stories when I read or expose myself to as many narratives as I can.

So here's what I've been preoccupied with:



1. SHERLOCK:

It's a modern take on Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's classics, with all the essential characters (Holmes and Watson, Mycroft Holmes, Irene Adler, Mrs Hudson, Moriarty and Officer Lestrade) and their idiosyncracies. Benedict Cumberbatch plays a convincing Sherlock Holmes, and Martin Freeman brings a new depth to the character of Dr John Watson. The nineteenth century narratives are re-adapted to relevancy in the twenty-first, while retaining their original keen wit and bringing greater urgency to the story. There've been two seasons so far - the third will only be out next year (ye gods!) - and each season only has three hour and a half-long episode. I need some SHERLOCK already!

2. GRIMM:

Grimm's another modern adaptation of the Grimm brothers' classic tales, this time with detectives Nick Burkhardt and Hank Griffin. Nick is a Grimm, one who descended from a long line of hunters who see monsters where normal people wouldn't. It's essentially a cop drama with supernatural elements, yanking out those monsters from under the bed and bringing the bad and the ugly to fairytales. So far (I'm at episode 16 of season 1), they're still churning out the monster-of-the-week type of storyline, but there's an overarching, more sinister (cue dramatic music), narrative thread. I was a little hesitant about this show initially, but boredom drove me to take another chance on it. And while it's no SUPERNATURAL (I still think that show is unparallelled in screenwriting), it makes for suitable entertainment.

(Oh, and just in case you need a reminder of how amazing SUPERNATURAL is, here you go:

)

3. VAMPIRE DIARIES:

Oops, I mean this:

But the main reason is really Ian Somerhalder. Well, you know me.

I know, I know. Yet another vampire story with two pretty boys and a damsel in distress. How is this contributing to the progress of women and our cultural landscape. I did swear I will never watch this show. TWILIGHT was enough, thank you very much. (To think I had been obsessed with that franchise.) But VAMPIRE DIARIES exceeded my expectations. I took a shot at it, intending to just feast my eyes on Ian Somerhalder even if everything else is going to be disappointing, but there are some bright moments in the three episodes I've watched so far. Sure, there were some cliched moments (the vampire element itself is a cliche, given these times of Stephenie Meyer) and cliched phrases:

Stefan: For over a century, I have lived in secret. Hiding in the shadows, alone in the world. Until now. I'm a vampire and this is my story.

Stefan: Everything I've kept buried inside came rushing to the surface.

But there are also some redeeming moments like this:

Elena: People are going to stop giving you breaks, Jeremy. They just don't care any more. They don't remember that our parents are dead; they have their own lives to deal with. The rest of the world has moved on. You should try to.

Jeremy: I've seen you in the cemetery writing in your diary. Is that supposed to be you moving on?

And:

Stefan: It's been 15 years, Damon.

Damon: Thank God! Couldn't take another day of the 90's. That horrible grunge look did not suit you. Remember, Stefan, it's important to stay away from fads.

And then there's a mix of cliches and redeeming moments:

Elena's diary:

Dear Diary, Today will be different. It has to be. I will smile, and it will be believable. My smile will say, "I'm fine, thank you. Yes, I feel much better." I will no longer be the sad little girl that lost her parents. I will start fresh, be someone new. It's the only way I'll make it through.

Dear Diary, I made it through the day. I must have said "I'm fine, thanks" at least 37 times. And I didn't mean it once. But no one noticed. When someone asks "How are you?", they really don't want an answer.

Plus, they've got a rocking soundtrack. Ross Copperman, Ternt Dabbs, Peter Bradley Adams... Need I say more?

So I guess you can say ... I'm hooked. On yet another vampire franchise. But I think it's safe to say VAMPIRE DIARIES is better than TWILIGHT.

4. AMERICA'S NEXT TOP MODEL CYCLE 18: BRITISH INVASION

And can I just say that this cycle's winner is my absolute favourite so far! Sophie Sumner, from Britain's Next Top Model Cycle 5, was second runner-up to some girl called Mecia. But her loss led her to something even better, and winning ANTM she's gained so much more experience and the prizes are way better than those offered by BNTM.

Here's Sophie, by the way:

Here she is rocking pink hair, which she was really excited about during the makeover on the show:

And here's she with Emma Watson:

I've had several favourites on the show, like Raina Hein from cycle 14, Jane Randall from cycle 15 and Nicole Fox from cycle 13. But Sophie has to be my absolute favourite out of all the cycles I've watched so far. She's smart (she's from Oxford, which is probably how she met Emma, I'm guessing), funny and low-drama - generally a very bubbly, likeable and positive person. Like a little fairy with the spirit of a pixie. Plus, I absolutely ADORE her style. I mean, look at this dress she has on!

So that's it on my obsessions for now. Till next time!