NaNo, Day 23:
 
Hello my darlings! It’s been a while since I saw you—
 
I’m sorry, what’s that? I’ve been avoiding you?
 
Wh-what! I haven’t—no way—Never!
 
How can I? You folks are some of the most brilliant and fascinating people I’ve ever met! Yes, of course I know you’re fictional…but the compliment still stands.
 
I looked the other way? When? I just saw you last week!
 
I saw you and flipped to a different screen? Three days ago?
 
Okay, wait guys, I can explain that. See, I was researching. Sometimes I don’t know what you guys are doing, or what you’re wearing, or holding…it’s a bit hard to observe when most of it goes over your head, you know. Like…I totally just found out those wide hooped skirt things were called panniers! And those Japanese short swords are wakizashi! And the handle of Japanese swords are made of stingray skin and-- 
 
Okay, fine! I won’t change the subject!
 
*sigh*
 
Alright, you folks win. Yes, perhaps I was avoiding you. And yes, there were days when I “researched” (a.k.a. online window-shopped) all day…but it wasn’t because I lost interest in you.
 
It’s because...it was easier to deal with than trying to figure out how to best represent your actions into words. Heck, anything was easier than trying to keep a simple story thread running.
 
I chose exercise—Pilates, yoga, that crazy TRX class—over you, even though that involves actual physical pain, because you know what, the thought of being unable to write was more torturous. I just couldn’t handle it.
 
There were days when I thought my writing skills were broken—unfixable—and all I could think of was how to avoid breaking it to you; how to avoid saying: Hey guys, maybe you should find another writer—a real one—to write your story.

Even writing that sentence out makes my heart splinter. It would be the saddest conversation I’ll ever have in my head—and you guys know just how many internal conversations I have.
 
Bottom line: I don’t want to have to tell you that—ever.
 
I want to keep you to myself. Also, I am bad at breakups. 
 
I understand I am selfish, possessive, maybe even unreasonable. But, in my defence, my brain did birth you.
 
Let me make it up to you. From now on, I’m going to try and be more committed. Ok, no. I am GOING to be more committed.
 
I’ll see you guys every day, at the minimum an hour a day, and I won’t look away.
 
It’s just me and you lot—one hour, every day.
 
I hope we have parties and exchange juicy gossip and dance till dawn.
 
More than that, I hope you will tell me your stories and share with me some of your secrets.
 
But even if you take time to warm up to me, I'll still be here.

One hour, every day.

That is my pledge to you.

Sincerely,
Your Storywriter

Ok...wow. I see I fell off the face of the Earth back there. But fear not LJ (and friends!), I am, in fact, quite alive and well, and I have not abandoned thee!

Chalk it up to procrastination and scatter-mindedness (is that a word?!). 

In fact, to prove that I haven't abandoned you, I'd like to post a teaser...

...My very first teaser ever, yay! 

Ok, I admit...I meant to do this yesterday, in conjunction with Teaser Tuesday-- in fact, if I'm completely honest, I meant to do this...oh...maybe 2 months ago? [See procrastination and my innovented word 'scatter-mindedness'] 

Before I post the teaser though, I should probably give you a bit of an update, and some background / context.

First, I've finally moved on from calling this project WIP (creative, I know) to naming it Falselight. When I'm feeling fancy, I call it 'The Isles of Falselight'. I am BEYOND excited that I've named the project-- it kinda makes me feel all writerly, and I hope it signals a step forward for my project.

Second: Background. So, I posted a brief premise in this post. To build a little bit on that, basically FALSELIGHT (squeee!) is a YA Fantasy set sometime in the future. In that period, we owe a great debt to the scientists, architects and engineers that created the Floating Cities, thus ensuring humanity's survival for the foreseeable future. The founders of the Floating Cities form the Terran Council, an advisory committee that counsels the Allied Empire on politics and governance of the many countries under its rule. As decades and centuries wear on, the Terran Council continues to operate, though they are never seen and proffer their advise remotely. Soon, mystery and myth shroud the actual identity of these individuals. 

The first novel opens with my heroine, Leona, navigating her surroundings. In a world swallowed by the ocean, Leona is at the bottom of the social heap, a refugee rat struggling to stay aboard a floating city. But strange things are happening onboard. The Terran Garrison is multiplying its forces and stationed on the corner of every street. Children are snatched off the streets, trained to serve the Empire. 
 
But these things don’t concern her. What Leona is terrified of most is the changes happening in her own body – the awakening of a dangerous spirit within her, the power tingling in her veins, and the niggling suspicion that she is being watched. 
 
But when her best friend Madge is snatched, Leona vows to get her back, even if it means facing the Lord Ruler himself.  In the midst of doing so, Leona stumbles upon a conspiracy so dark, it could destroy the world as they knew it. 

The teaser I'm about to post is the very first time we meet Leona. In the opening chapter, our heroine is (accidentally) broken out of prison. She has never seen the outside world, though she remembers it in dreams. 

To avoid it being the longest ever teaser you've ever encountered, I'll break it down into bite-sized snippets. You can of course argue that my bites seem like dinosaur-sized mouthfuls...but...hey, I tried. Lol!


( Onwards! )


And...there you have it! I truly hope you guys enjoyed that...and wasn't too confused by it. I would really really love and welcome any comments you might have :) 

As far as I can remember, I’ve always been the night owl. At my worst, I’d wake up just hours before the sun was setting and crawl into bed just as dawn lightened the sky. Yeah…that was bad.

Thankfully, these days I’m not half as nocturnal, which makes dragging myself to getting to work a little easier.

This month though, I have to force myself to wake up at 5 every morning because…

Ramadan is here again! (You done snuck up on me, Holy month!)


( Click to find out! )

 How to bid goodbye to Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Boy Who Made Others Read, the Boy Who Brought Magic Back, My Generation’s Thing?

Two nights ago, as I watched the credits roll, red-eyed and puffy-faced, it hit me; finally, truly slapped me in the face: Harry Potter, the story—nay, the consistent theme threading my childhood— has come to an end.

But how did it even begin?

I was always the girl whose nose was stuck in a book, so meeting Harry was probably inevitable.

I didn’t expect to fall in love with Harry as hard as I did. In those pre-pubescent years, I was carefully cultivating that painfully annoying adolescent snobbery and know-it-all-ness that all parents dread.

… And then there was Harry. I don’t know why I picked the book up—on a superficial front, Harry Potter with its kiddy cover and equally goofy title was anathema to my pre-teen swagger.

(But how adorable is it now? *squeeee*)

I remember cracking open the book, ever-ready for disdain, but boy, did Harry Potter blow me and that pretend-adult away. I was jolted out of that cynical older shell and back into the 11-year-old self that I was, the same age as Harry, and with similar dilemmas. I mean, we were both at the cusp of teenagehood and both entering new schools (although mine was in a new country altogether)—WE WERE PRACTICALLY THE SAME PERSON!

Needless to say, I devoured the wizarding world with the same intense curiosity Harry had, yearned to study and wield magic with a wand that chose me, and most of all, wanted, coveted the adventures Harry, Ron and Hermione had. I would have eaten a mound of Hagrid’s rock cakes just for a glimpse of Hogwarts. I was sold.

I was so sold, I started promoting the book to others—most vehemently to my BFF who avoided any and all books as if it were a contagious disease. I had tried to get her to read books before, but Harry Potter was different. This was all or nothing. She HAD to read it, OR ELSE. I believe my exact words were: IF YOU DON’T READ THIS BOOK FRONT TO BACK, YOU ARE NOT MY BEST FRIEND!

Loyal friend that she was, she finished the book that accompanied the letter, and miraculously, started reading other books on her own! I will always claim partial credit to that, even though deep down I know that it was all Jo’s work—she had managed to weave magic into our lives.

And didn’t we all fall under her spell?

I followed as the HP series sparked a media frenzy, was elated by the news that my generation, the digital generation, were ditching their game consoles, at least for a few hours, to read the books.

Throughout my adolescence, Harry, Ron and Hermione were there every step of the way. I channelled Hermione when I needed a moral compass, and more importantly, when I needed to study (no joke, it was like…method acting, LOL); I looked to Ron for lessons in loyalty, and more broadly, the Weasleys for facing life with a dose of humour; and when I needed a shot of courage, I sought Harry.

But that wasn’t all that the Harry Potter universe gave me. It had one last gift up its’ sleeve: HP fanfiction. (Don't laugh! Yeah, ok, go ahead and laugh :P) I remember at 14, stumbling upon the forums on the WB website, and then the fanfiction pages, and before I could say ‘Merlin’s Beard’, I was frenziedly posting chapter after chapter, and knew with every bone of my body that I wanted to be a writer.

I guess what I’m trying to say is…Harry Potter shaped who I am today. And Jo Rowling shaped a generation. I don’t know if she could possibly imagine how many lives she’s touched, how many writers she’s created in her wake.

I am still not over Harry. These past two days, I’ve been prone to heaving long drawn-out sighs and walking around listlessly. (This Tumblr post is incredibly apt)

Some, if not most of you, already know about this awesome campaign hosted by the fabulously amazing Kat Brauer. She teaches, she bakes, she crits, she lives in Japan, AND she’s saving the world a drop of water at a time! (Kat – you are sort of living my dream life!)

Kat's goal was simple -- simple in the sense that it was powerful, yet easily understood. In her words: "I hope to raise $5000 for charity: water through the proven generosity of the online writing community via Crits for Water".

I was pretty much all ready to jump up on that bandwagon and had diligently set aside a portion of my salary for a few months now.

All that meant was that I had to cinch in my belt a little tighter and keep my wallet shut a little more often. But hey, I was saving lives right? And on top of that, I get to request crits!

Even so, the scenario was far removed from my own experiences. In my part of the world, water seems abundant. We get torrential downpours fairly frequently, and once in a while, roads flood. On weekends, I’d head out of the city for my parents’ home in the suburbs, which looks like a rainforest retreat with its lush green foliage and the mini-waterfall complete with a pond full of koi. On a typical day, I’d have half-hour showers and leave half-empty bottles /glasses around the house.

The humidity in the atmosphere is 70 – 90%.

So you can imagine how pampered I am when it comes to water.

Sarah mentioned how she tried imagining what a day without water would feel like.

Guys, I get to experience TWO days without it.

Yesterday, we found out from the newspapers that our water supply would be cut off for two days due to repair and maintenance works. Starting YESTERDAY.

Yeah, that’s right – our water supply was being cut off without ANY forewarning!

Thankfully, we had heard rumours a day prior that this was going to happen, so we had time to fill up two large pails to the brim the night before.

It wasn’t so bad yesterday though. The water supply was being cut off from 8am onwards, so I got up early to shower, make my morning coffee and generally went about my morning ritual as usual. After work, we had dinner out. All in all, a typical day.

This morning though…

Oh, this morning.

It was hard. Harder than I expected it to be.

Every move in my morning ritual was a conscious decision to conserve as much water in our tank as possible. To make matters worse, the Scarlet Lady is visiting me this week. Girls, you know how big a hassle that is.

Everything from brushing teeth to showering to answering nature’s call became a big deal.

How much water do I use? How much is too much?

I love big shower heads that pour big fat droplets of water so that it feels like I’m in a torrential downpour.

This morning though, I had to let my shower dribble pathetically while I almost kissed the wall to catch the droplets on my back. To wash my face, I used a damp cloth so as to save more water.

Perhaps I’m being a little extreme. But today really drove the point home of how precious water actually is.

The more I think about it, the more I realise how much I’ve taken for granted. Much of my water consumption is a luxury; it’s a luxury to be able to shower, or soak in a bath; it’s a luxury to listen to the murmur of a mini-waterfall, to gaze upon a pond full of koi; it’s a luxury to be able to even make a bowl of soup.

It’s a luxury to have all these things when some people don’t even have access to life’s most basic need – clean water.

It is horrifying to think that in some parts of the world, there are people who sacrifice time and effort, walking for miles and risking their lives and wellbeing in the process, just to collect water.

But this isn’t a lost cause. There are things we can do to alleviate this situation. And if you, like me, are as saddened and horrified by this scenario, then please do donate to Kat’s campaign. The campaign closes end of this month, so you have about a week left to change people’s lives!

And even if you aren’t in a position to donate today, do check out Kat’s donation site anyway and browse around the charity : water site. If anything, you’ll be able to see what a difference even a small amount can have in changing people’s lives, and what awesome things we could effect collectively.

So let's do this, guys!

Let's change a village :)

So…I realise I’ve fallen off the face of the Earth these past few weeks – but here I am again, popping up to say Hello World! I’m alive!

I also realise that for a blog that’s meant to document my writing journey, it’s woefully lacking in any mention of what I’m working on.

And the reason for this is…well, to be honest, I’m still wrestling that slippery, disobedient (yet dynamic!) monster that is my WIP. Hence, the subtitle of this blog!

Honestly though, there are days when I feel like I’ve figured out my WIP and it feels solid, as if I could cup that entire world with all its past present and future, in my hands – and yet, there are days when that world crumbles and slip through my fingers like sand, like water.

I’m not going to lie, those days when my chimera of a WIP changes form, all I want to do is hurl everything out the window – laptop, notebooks, my brain…

But I can’t stop thinking about that glittery world, when I had it all almost figured. It’s so pretty! And guys, I’m a sucker for all things glittery and pretty.

So…if I don’t have it all figured out, what do I have?

The answer: three clues. These clues are the only map I have to figure out my WIP. I suppose these merest of hints must have been super-intriguing (to me) because it just latched on to my writing brain and would not let go.

( More rambliness under the cut... )

  So, apparently I've been living under a rock. I mean, what other explanation could there possibly be for not having heard of Adele before?

Thus, Anthem of the Week. Seriously, guys, I've played this song maybe a million times since I discovered her sometime this week (Tunes play count is a little more conservative and says I've played it 57 times...).

It's a beautiful, heartbreaking song that gave me goosebumps and made me cry every single time I played it...It's the kind of song that makes me think of my all my past loves and hope they're doing well now; the kind of song that made me write a 19-page scene in longhand; the kind of song that should be shared, because its beauty should reach out to as many people as possible.

So I hope you guys will fall in love with it as much as I have.


I couldn't decide which rendition was better, so here's another if you're interested! 



 Mood: Emotional

 I was born this day, 26 years ago.

2 years and 2 days ago, I sat in the apartment room I had rented for my graduation week, breaking into new Moleskine books I had bought alongside my breakfast coffee (an early birthday treat!...The Moleskines that is), cocooned in my artificial warmth while the typical New Zealand spring rain misted outside.

2 days later, still obsessed with them Moleskines, the minute I woke up, I rolled over and pulled one towards me, snuggling under the duvet with it as I shoved headphones over my ears.

It was a wonderful birthday morning – the morning light filtered through mist, golden and warm, as the first strains of the Firebird Suite by Stravinsky filled my ears.

I don’t know what it was about that day.

I had listened to the Firebird Suite probably a gajillion times, but that day, with new pigment liners and light pink Moleskine in hand…

Leona was born.

It was as if a dam broke. I wrote and wrote and wrote, floods of words words words, and by 9am, believe it or not, I had filled up almost half of that Moleskine book.

To say I was amazed would be an understatement. I was absolutely gobsmacked!

Where the heck did that come from?

I hadn’t written in perhaps 5 years since I left school, and I had bought those notebooks on a whim.

Reluctantly, I peeled myself off the bed that morning for my birthday brunch with friends—but all throughout the day, I saw more and more of Leona’s story, her world, her history, and I knew this was something I could not ignore.

Flash-forward to 1 week ago:
Leona, and now her friends, nemeses, supporters, are still very much alive in my head. But between work from 8am – 8pm and shuttling back and forth between two households over the weekend, putting down her story has been something of a challenge.

But they were getting louder every day, and there were days when my story-brain won’t shut it and I cannot concentrate on work.

So. A week ago…

On the way home from work, talking to The Hubs over pop and hip hop, I suddenly caught the familiar melody of my favourite score. I stopped talking mid-sentence. Something important was happening. I turned the radio up.

“…The Firebird Suite by Stravinsky…playing at MPO on the 23rd and 24th April…”

You guys. I screamed. Like literally I screamed, and thankfully The Hubs is desensitized to my sudden bursts of emotion because another person might have crashed. I screamed and then I cried a little—I was so choked up.

To understand how much The Firebird playing at the MPO (Malaysian Philharmonic Orchestra) means to me, you must know that Malaysia’s arts and culture scene is still at its fledgling stage. That didn’t stop me from writing in to the MPO imploring them to play the Firebird. I knew it might take us a while to get the right musicians with the right instruments, and the right conductor to lead such a score. But I wrote in, year after year after year.

And now, the Firebird would be playing on the 23rd, the day I was born—but also, the day my protagonist was born.

It was like a birthday gift from God / The Creator / The Universe.

And I can no longer ignore the signs. SJ Maas had bolstered my belief in signs and fate and destiny, and The Secret cemented it. I believe there is a bigger force out there, and currently, this force had aligned the stars for me. (A more logical person would say: Pah! Coincidence!)

So...I’m giving a birthday gift to me.

A la Meagan Spooner, I will give myself the gift of writing.

The rules are:
A minimum of 500 words a day
No editing while writing First Draft (or Draft Zero)
Remember why I write
Have fun

Tonight, I will listen to the Firebird live. I will probably laugh, probably cry. (I will bring lots of tissues). But most of all, I will remember that I owe it not just to myself, but also to my MC, her story down on paper. And I owe it to that bigger force to walk the starry path—and even if I burn my feet in the process, I will forge on.

...Walk with me ? :)))