The writing life

Julia Bell, UK novelist and lecturer, shares her essential writing tips:

1. Get rid of all distractions – if you have to, disconnect your wi-fi. There’s a great app called Freedom which disables your wi-fi: http://macfreedom.com/. This has saved me many hours of working time from the rabbit hole that is the internet.


2. Focus on what’s in front of you. A good writer can make a short walk across an empty room seem interesting. Try with what you can see now, beyond the computer screen on which you are reading these words. What’s the view out of the window? What does the floor look like? The walls? What sounds can you hear? What smells? This kind of close focus in the stuff of good fiction. Get in the habit of noticing your surroundings.


3. Write every day. Even if it’s only a shopping list. Writing is a habit as well as an art.


4. Read every day. Even if it’s only a bus timetable. Reading gives you language, ideas, jumping off points. Take vocabulary from your reading and record it in your notes books – any unusual words, odd sounding phrases, quotes you want to remember. Your notebooks then become a record of the journeys that you have taken in your reading.


5. Your characters need to be written before they’ll become fully-rounded people. You don’t know who they are when you first start writing them as you haven’t really spent enough time with them yet. Don’t expect to know them completely right away. Getting to know them over time is part of the point - uncovering them as you go along.


6. Don’t overdo it. See point 3. Writing everyday and doing nothing else will quickly burn out your inspiration. Take time out to go for walks or to museums and galleries or to the cinema, theatre, etc. to places which inspire your creativity. Again, use point 2 here, take note of where you are, what things look like, who else is around. You are a body and a consciousness in the world – use your senses and your intellect to explore it. Check out the blog of creativity guru Keri Smith http://www.kerismith.com/. Her books are great too as a way into this kind of creative exploration in practice.

And local award-winning poet Cyril Wong's advice made me tear up toward the end:

Don’t listen to what anyone else says. Be a rebel when you write. Don’t bother with people when they ask you, “Your writing can eat or not?” If you have to write in order to gain approval from others—don’t do it for them, because then your writing will be worth nothing. Your writing must always mean something—especially to yourself. Get yourself a nice quiet part of the room, one in which your parents will not nag you for wasting your life not making money. I think it is fairly obvious that writing should not be about money. It is also not about fame. It is about doing what is necessary, such that if you do not write, your life would have little meaning.


Whether you write with a computer or a pen and notebook, make sure you ask yourself this question before you start: “Who am I writing for and is what I am about to say elegant, honest and straightforward?” The first line is everything. The second line too. You have to pack a punch, but always wrap your fist in a velvet glove. Then in the middle of your poem or story, take out the glove and set the context, caress the clueless reader with facts and set the context; then put the glove back on and strike hard with a revelation; the sensitive reader is always looking for a beating. Make the reader beg for more. Suggest; don’t impress. Evoke through your writing; don’t rant or complain. Leave the complaining for your blog.


The most important aspect of writing is to read the writings of others—especially those who write about the same things as you. See where you think these other writers have succeeded or failed; then commit to the same standards in your own work. Writing is meaningless if you don’t read. Read well. Be the kind of reader you would want others to be when they eventually read your work. This will make you into the kind of writer that you have always hoped to become.

haiku moment

Nobody told us
Powdered hearts scatter faster
When kept in torn pockets.

A most-welcomed bout of encouragement

... from literary agent Rachelle Gardner's blog: 6 Reasons for Writers to Be Optimistic


Guess what! The sky may not be falling after all. Yes, there are a lot of changes happening in publishing (and the world).


But things aren’t all bad. Herewith, six tidbits to cheer you up.

1. Publishers are still buying books.

If you follow Publishers Marketplace, you know that new deals are being announced every day. Some people even (allegedly) get deals for $4 million (hello Amanda Knox). While that’s not the norm, it’s a sign that big publishers still have money and still see a future for books. Closer to home, it’s nice to note that deals are still being done for books in all genres, fiction and non-fiction.

2. Agents are still taking new clients.

Yes! Believe it or not, agents still read queries, attend conferences, and sign new clients. Who knew? I myself have already taken on two new authors this year. And it’s only February.

3. Debut authors are still getting published.

Since many of you are yet unpublished and finding the road to publication challenging, it probably feels like nobody wants debut authors anymore. Not true! Fresh voices are still the lifeblood of publishing, and every year, many of them make it to the bestseller lists and “best of the year” lists. Debut authors are never a huge portion of the books published, but still make up about 10 to 15% by my (unscientific) estimate.

4. Print books are still about 75% of the market.

I know, I know, you love the smell of the paper, the heft of the book, how they look on your shelves, yada yada yada. You love your print books, I get it. Luckily for you, print books are still the majority of what’s being sold. If you want to see your book in print, you still have that option.

5. People still READ.

And now that everyone’s on the Internet all the time, people are reading more than ever. That means if you write words, chances are, you’ll find someone to read them.

6. There are more publishing opportunities than ever.

As technology drives the changes in publishing, your options for getting your work in front of readers are expanding and multiplying every day. As far as I can tell, there’s never been a better time to be a writer.


Why are YOU optimistic today?

#^$%^#%, WIP!

Big problem. Big, big problem with my work-in-progress. And here is where I come to whine sort out my thoughts.

I'm torn between abandoning my WIP and pressing on. Of course, I'm more inclined towards the latter. But I've come to the devastating conclusion that I am not ready to write this story. I was never meant to write this story. Yes, I had fun writing it. But that, really, seems to be all there is to it. It's just a story, a simple shallow story without a discernable theme, inconsistent characters and a meek plot. I don't have anything to say about anything, and my characters are just going with the flow, not forced to make their own decisions or learn something about themselves or the world they live in.

Long story short (pun unintended), I can't go on.

A hiatus and a revision later, 15 MINUTES DOWN SUNSET AVENUE is still not working. It feels like I'm surrendering, giving up at page 241 now, but I simply don't know how to rev up the engine again. Here I am, giving in to the midstory goblin, just like I had for MINT. Except while I gave up at page 157 for MINT, I'm giving up at page 241 now.

But 15 MINUTES is a complete mess, in terms of plot, characters and theme. The characters are inconsistent, especially Prince, and the stakes are not high enough. The subplots are not complementing the main plot as well as I would like them to, and the characters haven't experienced the proverbial end of the world before dawn breaks. And I'm already at page 241. How long more am I going to make my characters walk about on the page? How are the characters going to make tough choices if there isn't a strong enough conflict to jolt them into action?

Okay. Deep breath. One problem at a time.

Problem 1: character.

Prince. One of the main characters. Arrogant, narcissistic pop idol who went on a two-year hiatus after his father, with whom he is very close, died. He has decided to fulfil his father's wish and make a comeback. Problem: in the period he's been gone, other pop idols have risen and eclipsed him, but his fans remain loyal and stand by him throughout his tumultuous journey to reclaim his throne.

And that's where the logical problem lies. If he's got such a huge and devout fan base, why would his comeback be such a struggle for him? I wrote it such that his arrogance and impetuousness is the reason why directors and music producers are reluctant to work with him. But he's a good cash cow - wouldn't they fight to work with him even though he's really difficult to work with? Also, I intended to make his comeback really tough and fraught with problems (personal life - his relationship with Chloe; public image - a sore loser who can't deal with competition; reputation - impulsive, conceited brat, rude to the media), but how tough can it be if there are so many fans supporting him? Because for all his shortcomings, Prince is the best when it comes to his fans and close friends. I need him to have a redeeming quality, you see, otherwise readers will hate him.

Also, another problem: his father died. If he was so devastated by his father's death, so much so that he had to take a 2-year hiatus from work, wouldn't he be more humble and less arrogant, narcissistic and impulsive? He would be more sombre, or at least slightly more mature, wouldn't he? But I've always had the image of Prince as an arrogant brat who is, if nothing, generous to the people he loves. People who know him love him as much as they hate him, while his fans are completely smitten with him. So that's another problem.

Next, the problem of theme. Every story needs one. Every story needs to circle around this theme and provide an insight into the human condition (or at least, just the protagonist's condition) or the environment he or she lives in. What's the theme for 15 MINUTES? What was my theme for MINT? Am I making the same mistake? Not digging deep enough into my story? I suppose Chloe's fear of stepping out of her comfort zone could be something readers might relate to. That, and her inability to make decisions for herself, seeing as how she is so used to taking care of others and putting other people's needs before her own. I could use this encounter with Prince and his world to trigger a character transformation in Chloe. But, if Chloe was afraid to step out of her comfort zone, why would she agree to be Prince's assistant? Oh right, because of the money. Her parents' business venture failed....

(Don't mind me. I'm just thinking aloud.)

Another problem: plot. What are the stakes, for Chloe and Prince? They aren't high enough. Their problems are not big enough to make readers want to stick around and find out what happened to them in the end. No one will care. Prince needs to lose everything he has. His career, Chloe ... his fans? He (and Chloe, now employed as his personal assistant) need to abandon all hope, make a decision, stick to it and live with the consequences. But he hasn't lost enough yet. Maybe I'm mollycoddling my characters too much. I don't want anything too bad to happen to them. Maybe that's why I'm stuck in this stalemate. I have my antagonist, Sawyer, who is Prince's bandmate and now rival (because he signed on to be a pop idol without telling Prince) in both the spotlight and in love (i.e. Chloe). I have Prince's mother, who will remove anyone and anything that stands in the way of Prince's success. But how to make them work - how to weave the story, subplots with main plot - is the question.

Anyone who thinks writing a story is easy needs to try it on their own.

From Kidlit a while back:

Am I Wrong to Pursue A Writing Career?

June 4, 2009

For today, I’ve got a question from a reader! Take a look at what L.S. wanted to know:

I’ve been writing for a few years (I’m 17) and I know I want to be an author. It’s all I want to do but I know my writing needs work – a lot of work. I’ve heard from some people that the only way to improve your writing is to practice, just keep writing and reading. Is that true, or is it different for everyone? And is it wrong to pursue this as a career?
It seems like the most common advice is to do something else, “write in your free time”. I originally decided that if I made it to college, I’d major in Creative Writing. I thought that would help me become a better writer, but I’m worried now that it would be a waste of time.

There isn’t a single writer in the world who hasn’t doubted whether writing is the path for them. These questions are definitely normal. The first thing I have to say is that you’ve got plenty of time on your hands. A lot of writers discover their passion for it early. This is the part you might not want to hear, though: a lot of writers start early but then spend years and years and years honing their skills. To answer your question, yes, practice and reading are the best ways to improve as a writer. That’s not just for some people, that’s for everybody. The more you write, the better you get, and the more you read, the more you absorb for your own craft.

Even though you’re thinking of majoring in creative writing, don’t think you’ll get out of college with that degree and begin a career writing books right away. The truth of the matter is, you’ll learn a lot more from years and years of practice than you ever will in creative writing classes. Those classes were nice but did little to prepare me for writing a book and getting into the publishing world. Heck, my MFA in creative writing was only marginally better than college in terms of craft and literature curriculum. Luckily, nobody cares about your degrees or your resume when you’re a writer. They only care about the work, as should you. That’s your responsibility to hone, so don’t feel like you need to put so much pressure on your degree.

Being an author isn’t an easy career to get into. Most people don’t realize how long it takes to start writing good, saleable books. Most people have no idea how slowly the publishing world moves. I talk to writers all the time who say it took them ten years of solid writing to finally get a manuscript that sold. But if that’s the only thing you can possibly imagine doing, if writing is an irresistible, compulsive thing for you, then pursue it. Most people try and then drop out. This is a field where tenacity is pretty much a requirement.

The thing you really need to explore right now is your voice. For young writers, the voice is usually the last thing to develop and solidify. It’s true. To carry any kind of book for 300 pages, a writer needs a mature, dynamic and compelling voice. A voice that feels like a real human being, not just some caricature or persona. If there’s any advice I’d give you, it’s to educate yourself, put in grueling writing time every day and to work tirelessly on your voice. That and don’t give up just because it’s hard. The most worth-it things are always difficult.



Nice to know I'm not alone.

The best of the noughties! (non-exhaustive list ahead)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KtypSRcwIhA&feature=relmfu

Admit it. You were singing along to it, weren't you? Filled with delicious emo catchiness, and it brings back memories of secondary school. I remember I was in secondary 2 when I heard them, and I've loved almost every one of their songs since. Ah, to be fourteen again. So much has happened. This is one of those songs that bring back all those memories for me.

Another one from them that brings it all back is this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yfdAGkjHGac&feature=related

Gotta love AAR. Tyson's gorgeous, and their songs don't take themselves too seriously, but the lyrics are well thought out. The noughties was the era of pop rock! Along with AAR were Simple Plan, Good Charlotte, Avril Lavigne and Ashlee Simpson, etc. Some people say their music is shallow, but really they just need to get off their high horses (alternatively, they can remove the sticks from their butts - I'm sure they are equally effective) and enjoy the music for what it is. You've got your poison, I've got mine. They're like summer holidays music to me.

Remember this?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qvpNa5O-0-8&ob=av2e

Their first album was the best. I remember some of the guys from 2E2 singing this in class and the entire class started singing along. Good times. (Plus, I remember I thought the drummer from Simple Plan was cute. As is Tyson from AAR.)

And who can forget this scene?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0MdfscDeGe8

The first few seasons of Smallville were so good. After Jensen left the show, though, I stopped watching it (and moved on to Supernatural), partly also because Lana ditched Clark and went off with Lex Luther. Wow. To think I actually remember all this. 2004 really brings back a lot of memories.

Like this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WJCsyLUCSXI&ob=av2e

She used to be good when she first started out. Natural, dedicated. I think Hollywood changed her. Wish she'd go back to making music again.

And here's her ex:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RWwdh6FGL4M&ob=av2e

Whatever happened to him?

And from 2003, there's:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5NPBIwQyPWE&feature=relmfu

And:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kXYiU_JCYtU&feature=related

2005 brought:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vs0ZwOtr15Y

Reminds me of our Geography field trip to Perth. I heard this on the bus and on the local radio station one very chilly morning in the hotel room with Jolene and Michelle.

Also:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yipoOY56MbM&ob=av2e

The very song I wailed along to at the farm we visited. It was raining and biting cold and the bunch of us were holed up in our cabins nursing mugs of tea. And then Kelly came on and there was no stopping me.

And:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K1uNjmxJQUo

And on a more sombre note:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8YzabSdk7ZA&ob=av2e

Still, there was her ex, who brought this in 2006:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-oqXwnXjgDE&ob=av2e

Back to 2004, there's this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-oqXwnXjgDE&ob=av2e

Reminds me of secondary 3 camp. I was listening to this on the bus that took us away from civilisation.

And then there's good old Gwen:

Next came junior college, which was really characterised by songs like:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O0lf_fE3HwA&ob=av2e

We were supposed to introduce ourselves to the class, and this song was playing in the background and we were singing along to this. The guys sang along with Akon!

And:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2EwViQxSJJQ

Guys immediately become sisters when they sing along to Beyonce with you. Guys of A01, you know what I mean.

I think I've mentioned this before, but Steffi played this song on a very slow afternoon as we were all slogging over our Project Work:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h_m-BjrxmgI&ob=av3e

Then Justin brought us another hit:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TOrnUquxtwA&ob=av3e

I remember this because that song was used in the first episode of the first season of Gossip Girl, when Serena van der Woodsen entered.

The few of us mugged at the school library to this song (we did little else then but study):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dvgZkm1xWPE&ob=av3n

Still, 2004 had the best songs. Pop rock ftw!They're feel-good, not sleazy, and don't take themselves too seriously. Who could hate them?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X9fLbfzCqWw&ob=av2e

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K38xNqZvBJI&ob=av3e

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tuK6n2Lkza0&ob=av2e

Remember Ipod used this song for their commercial?

Just a thought: what do they call the 2010's? What's happened to music since the noughties? I'm not a hater, but I just think there can be something better than the likes of Lady Gaga, Justin Bieber, Miley Cyrus, Jonas Brothers, etc. Whatever happened to good old pop rock?

Sneak peek!

I'm doing a quick survey: who would read on after this page?

Dreams only make as much sense as your state of mind.

What did it mean, then, for me to keep returning to that same dream for a month and counting?

The one where the annoying woman kept asking me to help them. The question of who they were aside, how was I supposed to do anything? I was the crazy girl people whispered and pointed at in school. I couldn’t even help myself.

Then there was the carnival. It was always night-time in that carnival. It had no name that I knew of, but it was ablaze with lights that never stopped dancing, alive with music that never stopped playing.

In that dream, I saw only the boy. People milled about, but they were only faceless figures. So was the boy, in fact, but his features were only slightly clearer.

I had never even met him before, but every time I saw him in my dream he was perched on the edge of one of the Ferris wheel’s capsules. He stood there for barely two seconds, a sea of carnival lights blinking beneath him, before he threw out his arms and dived off the Ferris wheel.

Always, I was too late. Too late to stop him, too late to even call out for him. Don’t! I wanted to say. But the word would die in my throat as I watched him plummet through the cold night air and finally crashed to the ground.

And then the lights go out totally. The music stops.

That’s when I’d feel the hands reaching out for me. Cold and clammy, tugging, wanting, needing – what, I didn’t know. A glance down and I’d see a mass of bodies lying at my feet, turning blue with each horrible second.

I would still be able to feel those hands on my skin, my ankles, my neck, even when I sit up in bed and discover that I was being straitjacketed by my sheets.

It was always that same dream. It had been that dream for a month. I didn’t know where I came up with a dream like that. A dream that didn’t sleep, that roosted there right in the middle of my head long after I’d woken up.

A dream where it was always midnight in a carnival of monsters.

This, by the way, is the first page of my first ever complete urban fantasy novel, THE DREAMCATCHERS. Thoughts?

Some really good advice from Rosslyn Elliott: Why Your Novel Characters Need Real Flaws



Wouldn’t it be great if all my flaws were minor? But they’re not. And neither are anyone else’s.

As C.S. Lewis writes in The Screwtape Letters, even our greatest strengths are likely to become weaknesses under some circumstances. The same strong will and resourcefulness that helped Scarlett O’Hara survive the Civil War also made her a conniving homewrecker.

But we all know Scarlett O’Hara’s name, even though thousands of historical romance heroines have faded into oblivion. We remember Scarlett because Margaret Mitchell did a brilliant job of creating her heroine to walk the edge of likability. Scarlett’s flaws are all too real, and that means there are parts of Gone with the Wind in which we do not like her.

What is a real character flaw?

It’s a flaw that affects those around your character in a significant way, a weakness with serious consequences, not just angst or temporary hurt feelings.

Here’s the catch. When a leading character does things a reader doesn’t like, there’s a chance the reader will throw away that book. Or write a really negative review.

A writer may be tempted to solve this problem by creating a cosmetic character flaw. It hurts no one but its possessor. A cosmetic flaw is a victimless flaw. Even if it’s contorted so it causes some manufactured, preferably unintentional pain to other characters, the cosmetic flaw doesn’t cause any negative feeling in the reader.

Here’s an example from real life: what’s the clichéd answer for the classic job interview question: “What is your weakness?” To be safe, you’re supposed to say “I’m too hard on myself.” That’s a cosmetic flaw. Because the reality is that if you’re truly a perfectionist about your own work, chances are you may also be too hard on others, not just too hard on yourself. And that is when your cosmetic flaw turns into a real flaw. Real flaws are ugly and they hurt people.

Every cosmetic flaw is a victimless half of the real flaw it replaces. Here are two examples:

Cosmetic character flaw: Insecurity. Its real counterpart: envy and sabotage

Cosmetic character flaw: Fearfulness. Its real counterpart: disloyalty under pressure

We’re free to use cosmetic flaws if we want to write fiction that leaves no mark on its reader. But enduring books contain characters with real flaws, whether those books are hilarious comedies or moving dramas. If our goal is to stir deep emotions or joyful laughter, to show real love, to comfort the lonely, to make readers think or remember…our characters need real flaws. We can’t play it safe with our readers’ sympathy–we have to let them go to the edge.

My question for you:

How has the issue of reader sympathy affected your writing? Do your protagonists have real flaws that could bother a reader?

# # #

Rosslyn Elliott lives with her husband and daughter in the southern United States, where they enjoy working with horses and pampering their dogs. She earned her BA in English and Theater Studies from Yale University, and her Ph.D. from Emory University.

She has won awards for both her fiction and non-fiction, including the 2011 Laurel Award and the 2011 Lime Award for Fairer than Morning, which was also selected as one of Lifeway Fiction’s Ten Favorite Reads for 2011.

Rosslyn’s second novel Sweeter than Birdsong was just released by Thomas Nelson Publishing. Her fiction is represented by Rachelle Gardner of Books and Such Literary Agency.

It always feels anticlimatic after Chinese New Year. Gone are the days of the house being filled with sonorous relatives, the infectious festive buzz and the sound of melon seeds being cracked. Till next year. In the meantime, back to the grind. The refrigerator is still choking on mandarin oranges, and I'm doing my best to relieve it of them.

This semester, as expected, is one of the busiest ones I've experienced since my freshman year, mainly because I'm taking all five level-3 modules. That wouldn't be a problem, if it weren't for the group projects we're required to do. Group projects are almost always a pain, because of all the schedule-coordination and discussions we have to do. If I had my way, all the work will be done within the first week we're told of our assignments. But it is what it is, I guess.

Still, final semester! Four more months (and one extra term because I need to clear one last module to fulfil all my module credit requirements) and I'll be bidding school life goodbye. On the one hand, I'm excited to start earning a steady income. On the other, I'm dreading the entry into the cruel world. Of two minds? No, just eager for change and afraid of it, like we all are.

Unfortunately, much as I'd like to go on a self-indulgent soliloquy about post-graduation emancipation, I have four papers and three presentations to work on, as well as countless readings to catch up on. Till next time, then.

Top Five Writer’s Tips

by Swati Avasthi (author of YA novel, SPLIT).

5. Celebrate the mess.

I am not naturally neat. So, my life is cluttered with ways to keep my messes organized. Necessarily evils include: my ga-zillion sticky notes, my calendar, calendar reminders, weekly, daily, master, and manuscript to-do lists. Without them I get nothing of quality accomplished.

Unless we’re talking about the first draft of a novel. Then messy is good. Messy is productive – it just doesn’t look like it. First drafts are about playing, discovering and uncovering. Let go. Play in the mud, celebrate the slop, and see what you unearth.

Example: In the first draft of my current WIP, I introduced a 2 year old in the beginning of the book. Three months and around 200 pages later, he was 25. I ended up cutting him out altogether, but he was useful: his appearance taught me that my protagonist needed to be protective of someone (when he was 2), and by the end of the novel, needed a mentor (when he was 25). His appearance was my intuition talking. Respect your intuition. Messy as it is.

4. Learn to love revision.

Pouring out the story on to the page is wonderful. It’s a rush. But revision is even better. Are you groaning? Lots of writers I know hate revising. I love it. Here’s how I learned to love revision:

First, I assumed that every word I wrote would need to be re-written. Probably more than once. Probably more than twice. For Split, 8 was the magic number. Yep, 8 full drafts. 6 of them before I started agent-hunting looking for an agent. (Don’t actually hunt agents. Hungry as you are, they do fight back.)

Second, I learned that revising is pretty much the same thing as writing. You are still uncovering deeper levels of the story. But you are also discovering what the story is not about. Pull out all the distractions. Complicate all the moments where you are only doing one thing at a time.

Third, know when you are done revising: when you have a house of cards and removing one line, causes a cave in; when your critique group agrees; but most of all, when there are no more surprises left in the book for you, no nuance left to uncover.

3. Think, think, think.

Admit it. Your imagination is like a dog with a bone, gnawing at it to get at the rich marrow inside. Give your imagination a problem and then go for a walk, knit part of a scarf, or sleep on it. You’re likely to have the marrow out if your imagination keeps at it.

Or, go even farther and use method acting (preferably when no one is around) to explore your POV character. I once went grocery shopping as Jace. My kids were beyond thrilled when I came home with tons of junk food, and they learned what Little Debbie was.

2. Cultivate your Ideal Reader.

Your Ideal Reader is insightful, passionately opinionated and smart, especially about books. Your Ideal Reader will speaks in truths, both hard ones and kind ones. Your Ideal Reader gives you foot rubs and calls you a genius. Well, maybe not the last one. Find that person. If you’re lucky, it’s someone you already know. (For me, it is my husband) If you’re not, take writing classes and listen to hear whose opinion you respect. Share pages with a trusted friend. Or hire a book doctor, one who you are sure you can trust.

Then, listen. Your ideal reader is your ideal reader for a reason: you respect his opinion.

Then speak. If you don’t agree with his suggestions, talk about why. Don’t argue him out of his point. Rather, try to uncover what about the line or the moment is bothering your Ideal Reader. Once you understand, find an edit that accomplishes your goal and your Ideal Reader’s.

I can’t overstate the importance of an Ideal Reader. I can only say that Split could never have been written without mine.

1. Writing is no place for timidity. Write bravely. Write boldly. Write every day you can.

One of my favourite authors Maggie Stiefvater (author of the Mercy Falls trilogy and her latest book, The Scorpio Races) has shared a very insightful and detailed explanation of her thought process as she crafts a scene. It's one of the most helpful, useful blog posts I've read, so I really must share it.

From Rough to Final: A Dissection of Revision

It also made me realise how much of your original writing you get to keep, and how much you have to edit. Plus, it made me understand how much work I have cut out for me to reach her standard. Many thanks again to Maggie for sharing!

Short Story - Abdication

I wrote this one because my tutee wanted me to write a story for him. And I thought it fit the word Abdication (remember, it was one of the words with which we had to write a one-page scene for our introductory playwriting class). I love writing for children.


Abdication - Fiction by Joyce Chua

The snake reared its gleaming black head. Its eyes flashed, never once leaving me. A hiss, almost gloating, slipped out of it. Its body was arched, lithe, ready to attack. Could it smell my fear?

Deep breaths, Alex, I thought to myself. You’re the next Amazing Animal-Tamer. What’s a mere snake to you?

The truth was, though, that I had never been able to tame any animal, much less tame it amazingly. The circus had assigned me this position because the last animal-tamer had his right leg chomped off by a tiger he had been trying to tame. Naturally, once I’d heard that, my new job had not inspired any confidence in me. But I needed this job. And, as it turned out, there wasn’t much that a mute, half-deaf man of my age and qualifications could do.

So there I was, trapped in a giant steel cage with a giant snake ready to kill me. This test was meant to be my initiation ceremony. I could see Homer, said ex animal-tamer with chomped-off leg, watching from the sidelines. You would think my employers would be kind enough to start from the basics – let me try training a goldfish or a dog or something. You know, elementary level.

But apparently, circus performers don’t have time for elementary level tricks. No, we had to leap straight to the advanced level.

Back to business. No time for regrets or complaints now. There would be time for that after I had gotten out of this jail cell.

If I got out of this jail cell. Alive.

Beano, the sword-juggler, rattled the cage. “Get closer, man! How’re you going to quail the beast if you’re afraid to get your hands dirty?”

He reached through the bars and shoved me forward. I stumbled forth, catching myself a couple of meters before the hissing creature.

The snake interpreted my advance as an attack, and launched one of its own. I barely had time to dodge before it pitched itself at me. Its fangs clamped down on one of the bars, where my neck would have been had I been slower by a fraction of a second.

Cheers erupted from the spectator stand, where almost the entire circus crew, including the ringmaster, Mr. Caramel, was seated next to Homer. I was pretty sure they weren’t cheering for me, though.

And true enough, Dobson the fire-eater roared, “Did you see that? What a magnificent beast she is!”

“Beautiful attack, Comet!” Homer cried. Rising to his feet, Mr. Caramel clapped his hands. His gold watch gleamed as brightly as his shoes.

Comet. That thing had a name. And it sure lived up to it, given the speed at which it moved. How was plain old Alex supposed to tame a gigantic snake named Comet?

“Alex!” Mr. Caramel barked. “Stop daydreaming! Do your job, or you’re going to be locked in there all day! I mean it.”

I had no idea how to tame a snake, but damned if I was going to be stuck in a cage with it for a day. I spread my stance and raised my hands before me, ready to grab at the snake should it launch a second attack. Perspiration pooled at the nape of my neck. I hoped no one noticed my shaking hands.

When it came, I spared no time to consider what I was doing. I saw my hands reach out to grab at it, then my fingers wrap around its dry scaly body, just below its head.

It lashed its body at me, but I hopped out of range in the nick of time. I waited for it to strike again, then slammed my foot down on its writhing body. It thrashed like an out-of-control hose and hissed so loudly I could hear it with my faulty ear.

With a free hand, I scrambled around my pocket for my trusty old Swiss Army knife.

‘Snick!’

Right before the snake tossed me off its body – right before I could lose my balance – I swung the blade across the snake’s neck, just below where my other hand was clamped around it.

Blood. It flowed, poured, streamed from the gash I had made. In a few moments, its body slackened, then became completely limp.

I stared as it lay before me like a thick rubber hose, its eyes glazing over as seconds ticked by. The crew erupted in cheers again – for me, this time.

“Well done, Alex!” Homer said, thumping me on the back when he approached me.

“Well done, indeed!” Mr. Caramel bellowed. “Next, we’ll try Bessie, our Sumatran tiger. She’s a tough cookie, but I think you’re ready for her. Just don’t kill her this time, will you? Sumatran tigers are much rarer than cobras.”

Short Story - Eyes Full of Stars

The water would be icy tonight, after the day’s rain.

As the water lapped at his toes – crept up his ankles, calves, knees, chest – and stung his skin, he almost laughed at his own stupidity. It felt foolish enough to believe what the medium said, and even more foolish to act on her words. But hope and desperation were two sides of the same coin, and there was nothing else left to lose.

It was deep, too deep, but not deep enough. The lady had said it was absolutely crucial that he stood at the deepest inch of the lake.

And what the hell, he thought. Since I’m already here.

Another thunderstorm seemed possible. The sky still took on a bruised shade, though it revealed a faint hint of the moon.

Keep her name in your heart, the medium had instructed. If the bond you share with her is strong enough, she will come.

Of course, it was the sort of thing a medium would say. That way, you couldn’t blame her if this didn’t work.

But he held her name close to his heart anyway, felt the cadence fall in tandem with his heartbeat, until it became nothing less than breathing, a habit, then a need.

Under the faint moonlight the stone glittered, unnaturally bright, in his palm. Onyx, a love stone for the reunion of couples. The medium had definitely done her homework, at the very least.

He felt a tug at his feet that grew stronger by the second. Ripples started dancing across the surface. Water rushed towards him, churning, roiling, almost knocking him off his feet. He folded his fingers over the stone and squeezed it tight. Its edges dug into his palm. He could lose his footing, but not the stone. Anything but the stone. It was his only chance.

He did not let go when a particularly strong current swept him off his feet. He did not let go when he gulped down a mouthful of bitter lake water. Not even when he dipped under the surface. Not even when he felt the fire in his lungs, heard the awful cold ringing in his ears despite the underwater turbulence, glimpsed the last of the moonlight as night took over completely.

The next time he saw the sky, it was clear – moonless, cloudless, but strewn with stars, glittering like tearful eyes. There was no ringing in his ears, and the cold had dissipated. He was no longer in the middle of the lake; he was dry.

And there she stood, in the middle of the field before him, like she had never left.  She was more beautiful than he remembered, her thick long hair cascading down her shoulders. And her eyes, wide and dark, made up of a million stars, shining like the black onyx still in his palm. He dropped it at last and took a step closer to her. She extended a hand, waiting for him to slip his into hers.

He stared at their intertwined fingers in wonder. To think it had really worked.

Tomorrow, he thought, stroking her hair. Tomorrow he would pay that medium a visit again.

Beauty and the Beast - Raffles Alumni CO

I cried listening to this. Especially when the 高胡 (something like the first violin) started playing. There's something about string instruments hitting the high notes that brings out the tears. Makes me miss playing in an orchestra. It's been ages since I touched my 二胡 (something like second violin), and I just miss the feeling of working with everyone in the orchestra to create music. The end makes me especially emotional. You just feel this sense of achievement and the power of teamwork. Doesn't beat completing a novel, of course. More like a short story. And Raffles Alumni Chinese Orchestra is really impressive.

Given that a number of things (not too significant, so don't hold your breath, if you are) have happened since the last time I blogged, I think I'll make a list of updates this time.

I. Bidding period begins.

Can you feel the anticipation, the territorial vigilance with which everyone is camping out before their computers, lying in wait for the next bidder so that they can one-up him and throw in a higher bid? I know seniors get priority (well, not exactly priority - just that they have more points accumulated from past semesters and can afford to bid higher), but with so few options this coming semesters, competition for English modules is tough! And because of some administrative failures last semester, I absolutely have to take five English modules next semester so I can graduate on time. So I HAVE - did I mention HAVE? - to secure all five. The only five, in fact, because I've taken the rest before. You'd wonder why they offer so few English modules for this coming semester. I could ask the same.

So if everything goes according to plan, I'd be taking:

1. EL3204, Discourse Structure
2. EL3206, Psycholinguistics
3. EL3252, Language Planning and Policy
4. EL3880E, Second Language Learning,
5. EL3257, Investigating Language in the Media

I know. Hardly inspiring or scintillating. But, you know, school is school. No more fun modules, like Playwriting or language modules. Speaking of which, I got the A I wanted for Playwriting, and did better than I expected for my other modules. It's different when you feel passionately about the things you study, indeed.

II. One more semester and I'm done with school. Can you believe it? Not to sound completely corny, but it feels just like yesterday that I attended my first 10am lecture at LT11. I was rereading Megan McCafferty's Charmed Thirds, the third of the Jessica Darling series, where Jess attends Columbia University. And I just felt like it was such an apt book to be reading, because I could totally relate to what she was going through. The uncertainty, in the new environment and in herself, the diversity, and the stuff she was learning, the what-am-I-going-to-do-with-my-life-after-I-graduate brand of anxiety. My three years of tertiary education is coming to an end, and I feel more than ever the pressure to make a decision, pick a path already, plan plan plan your life, don't waste time or you'll fall behind.

I admit, a lot of the pressure comes from myself. My dad's not putting any pressure on me to earn my first million by the time I'm 25 or whatever, but I do want to achieve something quick so that I can show my dad that I will get by in life and that he doesn't have to worry so much.

But 2012 seems bleak, at least on the job market front. And that's not something I can control. So in the words of my dad, let go of what you can't control.

III. So Christmas has come and gone. Next up: New Year's. Excited? Not really. Thankful, though? Definitely. We've all lived through another year, at the very least, and that's always something to be thankful for.

IV. I'm currently reading The Grift by Debra Ginsberg. This is the third time I'm attempting to read it. I don't know why I didn't manage to get through it the previous couple of times, because it's actually a pretty well-written story. Not so much about plot, but about character, and it's high time I learnt how to write a character-driven novel without sucking instead of falling back on plot every time my story stalls.

And remember when I said my goal was to finish writing Fifteen Minutes Down Sunset Avenue by the end of this holiday? Yeah, that's not going to happen. Unless I manage to write, like, ten pages a day every day until 9 January 2012, the first day of school (after which I won't have time to write at all). At the rate I'm going (about three pages a day), that seems highly unlikely. Still, it's making progress. And I've finally come up with an idea on how I'm going to raise the stakes and resolve the story. All that's left is to write it. Which is always easier said than done.

V. The National Arts Council is organising a competition to select five young adult manuscripts to publish. And I was considering sending in Fifteen Minutes, but that doesn't seem possible now. With all the editing to do, it'll take me months before I deem the final manuscript ready. Besides, I'm still too attached to Lambs for Dinner to pass it up for this competition. But one of the criteria is that the story should not incite violence. And Lambs is really a little dark. Maybe not gory, but it might incite violence, how should I know? So I either risk submitting something that may or may not go against their criteria, or submit something that's not ready yet. I don't know about you, but the latter seems much worse to me. So Lambs it is. I believe more in it than Fifteen Minutes anyway. At least for the moment.

And a final word from Lev Grossman:

"Don't let the world convince you that you can't write. That may ultimately be true, who knows, but it's way too early to tell."

Beware these writing maladies!

And more great advice from Nathan Bransford's blog:

Do You Suffer From One of These Writing Maladies?

[commercial voice] There are pernicious writerly germs out there infecting pages all around the world. Left uncured they can be fatal. Talk to your book doctor or literary health provider if you notice any of these symptoms:

Yoda Effect: Difficult to read, sentences are, when reversing sentences an author is. Cart before horse, I'm putting, and confused, readers will be.

Overstuffed Sentences: An overstuffed sentence happens when a writer tries to pack too many things into one sentence in convoluted fashion, making it difficult for the intent of the sentence to come through and to follow it becomes an exercise in re-reading the sentence while making the sentence clearer in our brains so we can understand the overstuffed sentence, which is the point of reading.

Imprecision: When writers just miss the target ground with their word using they on occasion elicit a type of sentence experiential feeling that creates a backtracking necessity.

Chatty Cathy: So, like, I don't know if you've noticed but OMG teenagers use so much freaking slang!!! And multiple exclamation points!!! In a novel not a blog post!!! And so I'm all putting tons of freaking repetitious verbal tics into totes every sentence and it's majorly exhausting the reader because WAIT I NEED TO USE ALL CAPS.

Repetition: Sometimes when authors get lyrical, lyrical in a mystical, wondrous sense, they use repetition, repetition that used sparingly can be effective, effective in a way that makes us pause and focus, focus on the thing they're repeating, but when used too many times, so many times again and again, it can drive us insane, insane in a way that will land the reader in the loony bin, the loony bin for aggrieved readers.

Shorter Hemingway: Clipped sentences. Muscular. Am dropping articles. The death. It spreads. No sentence more than six words. Dear god the monotony. The monotony like death.

Non Sequiturs: Sometimes when authors are in a paragraph one thing won't flow to the next. They'll describe one thing, wow can you believe that thing that happened three days ago?, and keep describing the first thing.

Description Overload: Upon this page there is a period. It is not just any period, it is a period following a sentence. It follows this sentence in a way befitting a period of its kind, possessing a roundness that is pleasing to the eye and hearty to the soul. This period has the bearing of a regal tennis ball combined with the utility of a used spoon. It is an unpretentious period, just like any other, the result of hundreds of years of typesetting innovations that allows it to be used, almost forgotten, like oxygen to the sentence only darker, more visible. And it is after this period, which will neither reappear nor matter in any sense whatsoever to the rest of the novel, that our story begins.

Stilted dialogue:
Character #1: "I am saying precisely what I mean!"
Character #2: "Wait. What is that you are trying to tell me?"
Character #1: "Are you frickin' listening to me? I am telling you precisely what I am feeling in this given moment. And I'm showing you I'm really angry by using pointed rhetorical questions and petulant exhortations. God."
Character #2: "Sheesh! Well, I'm responding with leading questions that allow you to tell me exactly what you mean while adding little of value to the conversation on my own. Am I not?"
Character #1:"You are totally doing that. You totally frickin' are. Ugh! I'm so mad right now!"

The Old Spice Guy Effect (excessive rug-pulling). The character was standing on a rug. He falls through his floor to his death! The rug was actually a trap door. But wait, the character was already dead. He merely faked falling through the trap door. But wait, the trap door was actually a portal into another world. The character was actually alive, he just thought he was dead. Now he's really dead. Or is he? I'm in a chair.

Have you spotted any other writerly viruses out there in the wild?
The fall season of writing viruses is here. Watch out for these dangerous diseases!

Part 2

Catching the Rye:
Well you probably first want to have read this book by J.D. Salinger with an immediately catchy voice that kind of spoke to a generation or some nonsense, and after you do that you may be corrupted with that voice in your head for some time if you want to know the truth of the matter. If you really want to think about it it’s already been done and anyway the guy who wrote it didn’t end up wanting to talk to anyone anymore and holed up in a house somewhere so that can’t have been good and you probably want to try and go and write your own voice so you’re not a phony.


Adverb Central:
“What do you mean I can’t use adverbs with dialogue tags?” Lucia asked questioningly.
“Just don’t do it,” Nathan replied testily.
“But why not?” Lucia asked quizzically.
“It’s kind of a rule,” Nathan said resignedly.
“I kind of like them,” Lucia said poutingly.
“If you keep using adverbs,” Nathan said patiently, “Pretty soon your reader will only notice the adverbs and not the dialogue because the adverbs are doing all the work for the reader.”
“Oh,” Lucia said understandingly.
“Yeah,” Nathan nodded knowingly.


Gee Whiz That’s a Lot of Exposition:
“But what is it?” Captain Spaceman asked.
“I’m glad you asked,” his crack scientist said. “It’s a ‘What’s It.’ It is a device that requires me to explain to you precisely how the technology in this world works so the writer can get some exposition out of the way.”
“But why wouldn’t I already know how the technology works?” Captain Spaceman asked. “I am the captain, aren’t I?”
“That’s the beauty of it,” the scientist said. “You will impatiently prod me along while I tell the reader exactly what they need to know even though there is no good reason for us to be having this conversation. You might even say ‘Yes yes, go on.’”
“Yes yes, go on,” Captain Spaceman said.
“And I’ll be sure to include some foreshadowing. I mean, sir, just think of what would happen if the ‘What’s It’ fell into the wrong hands... You might even be moved to weigh in on the gravity of the situation.”
Captain Spaceman scratched his chin. “My gods, that would be catastrophic.”


Olympic Head Jumping:
Jackie saw the problem approach from a mile away. She turned to Richard, who was wondering about the weather that day and thought nothing of Susan, who was sitting quietly and wasn’t expecting the problem at all. Jackie wondered at that moment how everything had gone wrong, while Richard’s eyes widened as he saw another person approaching, Derrick, who gave a wave as he approached, happy to see his friends. Susan began to notice something was amiss and gave a start, which Richard noticed and looked in Derrick’s direction while Jackie had already been onto the problem from the start, ignoring the quizzical expression on Derrick’s face as he tried to understand. No one had any idea what was really happening.


Fantasy Overload:
“We are hearty warriors! Let us share a hearty chuckle! Ha ha ha!” Pentrarch said.
There was a glint in Lentwendon’s eye as he took a swill from a mighty cistern of ale. He bellowed a deep laugh and clapped his friend on the back.
“I say,” Pentrarch said, “What is it about fantasy novels that lends itself to such stilted, manly camaraderie? Do we not have normal interactions?”
“We do not,” Lentwendon said, his voice suddenly grave. “We do not. We prefer to express our friendship with great noise and clapping of shoulders and brood quietly but stoically when matters turn serious. It is the same with our women.”
“Oh yes,” Pentrarch said “Our women are quietly supportive that we must do battle in far off lands, and they always have weary, knowing eyes. In truth they are the strong ones.”
Lentwendon nodded as he stared quietly at his cistern. “And ale, always ale.”