Many of the people who buy my book are people I know, and some of the people I know come from where I work. Parents and children who support me go all out to buy my book and ask their kids to muster up the courage and get me to sign them. Apart from that, there are parents at signings who smile and gesture at their children to approach me, since they are also keen on reading the book, or keen on teaching them Chinese culture. I see what you parents of mixed-race kids did there. Continue reading
One very common question I get is whether Xin Long is based on me. The short answer is no. We’re very different people. However, since Dragonhearted is based on Chinese culture and more importantly, shines the spotlight on Chinese New Year, it’d be appropriate to unveil how some aspects of her childhood are all too similar to mine, just for fun.
- Xin Long and I have had our fair share of yucky reunion dinners, probably because children are picky and don’t appreciate food until they grow older.
- I dislike yusheng, but Xin Long is ambivalent to it, and probably very sick and tired of it by the time the book is over. Here is what yusheng looks like for reference.
- Xin Long has more cousins around her age than me, which is great, because that means she has friends who are around her age to play with.
- Unlike me, all of Xin Long’s cousins are all boys, and the generational name for them is the suffix, “long”. It means dragon. There are lots of dragons in her family.
- Xin Long spends a lot of time with her Ah Ma getting ready for Chinese New Year, like buying Chinese New Year decorations, which they both paste around the house. Her grandma does let her pick out decorations from time to time. This was something I definitely did as a child, and we even hung ornaments on a pussy willow tree.
- Xin Long’s school, like mine, does have a tradition of writing auspicious spring couplets every year.
- Xin Long probably missed out on playing with a certain kind of “explosives” — they looked like cloves of garlic and they made exploding sounds when you tossed them — unlike me. And yes, I tossed lots of those kinds of “explosives” while growing up.
- While Xin Long and I both love pineapple tarts, her favourite snack is the kueh bangkit, precisely because it melts in her mouth, like magic.
With these eight facts, I wish you all a Happy Chinese New Year!
Featured image from Akuppa John Wigham on Flickr
Picture of yusheng by Alpha on Flickr
It is the new year and this post is long overdue. For me Christmas doesn’t have that much meaning since I don’t quite celebrate it the so-called Christian way, but I was very glad I was able to do this very simple thing for a very special girl.
One of my former students texted me about a friend who teaches English in Vietnam. He teaches a little girl who is afflicted with one of the world’s deadliest monsters–cancer. My former student wanted to send her my book, and asked me if I could autograph it. Soon, it was shipped off, I think, but that wasn’t the end of the story.
On Christmas, or was it Christmas Eve? Anyway, on that day, I received a video of the girl opening the present. Her teacher read the dedication to her and I saw that she was at a loss for words. I hope she enjoys the book. I hope she knows that she can fight, and being a girl is a wonderful, wondrous thing.
This is why I wrote Dragonhearted. I wanted to empower children, especially girls, and I am so very glad that I get a chance to do so with this book.
I am playing Pokemon Sun. I would like to write that this is the fist time I’ve touched the franchise since the 90’s, but that’s not true. I played Pokemmo, and completed Leaf Green and Omega Ruby on the servers. However, in the franchise’s latest instalment, the graphics are a lot more beautiful and colourful and I get to see and walk through a whole lot more. In terms of graphics, shows how far we’ve came from the pixelated interface of the ’90s.
There are no longer gym leaders, but trials that one has to go through. I also have to defeat totem Pokemon, which are powerful creatures, if I want a crazy crystal to power up my beasts. I like the game. It’s fun, and keeps me amused for hours on end.
But one thing I don’t undestand is this–in every single reiteration of the game, we are taught to love our Pokemon as pets, but the nature of collection all 150 or however many Pokemon there are now, you cannot love all of them equally because your time and resources are put into the 6 that are in your “dream team”.
Then, there’s also battling, and going competitive just makes it worse because Pokemon are discarded on the Global Trade Link. Pokemon, animals essentially made out of bytes and lines of codes, are thrown away because they were too common, or didn’t have the perfect stats, and so on. It pretty much parallels how people breed animals in real life, to be honest. In nearly every iteration of the Pokemon games, there is a recurrent theme of how human beings exploit Pokemon to their whims, which does serve as commentary in real life. In fact, if there’s anything Pokemon has taught us, it’s to be kind to our animals and the environment they live in.
Every single time I play Pokemon, I encounter this dilemma, and I end up becoming very elitist, steering away from catching yet another Zubat or a Fearow or some kind of common Pokemon because dangit, there’s too many of them. I suppose, at the end of the day, Pokemon is a test in treating all the creatures great and small well, even if they are pixelated iterations of their real-life counterparts.
But dangit, no more Zubats, please.
As the holidays are coming up, I’ve seen many movie trailers that are re-tellings of stories that we know and love. The Beauty and the Beast trailer came out yesterday, and there’s also buzz for Star Wars, Rogue One, which I didn’t think was very impressive. There’s also Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, which is a spinoff of the Harry Potter cash cow.
More and more movies are adapting the tales from books, like Mrs Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children, the not so recent Hunger Game and The Fault in Our Stars. Oh yeah, also Divergent.
The only original movie I am looking forward to is Disney’s Moana, because it’s the only thing on December’s holiday roster that has some semblance of originality. Not to mention that it’s a Polynesian story with a Polynesian princess. Now, that’s not something you see every day.
I get it. They are made for the fans, and the kids of the fans who will see these movies so that the fandom will continue forever more. These are safe bets. Hollywood and Disney or whoever is behind producing these films will make money, and making movies is a risky business since you spend a shit ton of it.
However, when you put money in the equation of creating something, it corrupts the integrity of the project. Whatever is being created has no soul, but is formulaic drivel. Star Wars, Episode VII was completely derivative of Episode IV, and it was staring at us right in the face. So many fans, even the ones who loved the movie, conceded that it was pretty much like copy and paste from the very first movie, but they were so choked up on feels that they saved their criticism for later.
The thing is, there is still room to tell original stories, like Kubo and the Two Strings. Even the books that were made into successful movies sold well because someone took a chance on an idea. Yes, the risks of success on an original project may be lower because there isn’t much of a fanbase, but investors and audiences will not learn to love something original if it’s not even given some place to shine.
I’ll do my best to watch as many original movies as I can, but I won’t be surprised to walk to the cinema and see sequela or prequels playing.
said all the boys I teach.
I teach young children to write picture compositions, and sometimes, the image shows that the main character is a girl.
I always ask them to write as “I”, and somehow, when a girl appears as the main character, there is this roadblock amongst the boys. They protest as they don’t want to write as a girl. They don’t want to be seen as girly, and it’s as though being girly is a crime.
Once again, the patriarchy has done its work, even though I have told them that it’s easier to delve into your feelings and describe the facial expressions your main character has. We draw inspiration from ourselves, after all. Here is how one such conversation went:
Boy: I don’t want to write as a girl!
Me: Is there any problem with being a girl? Girls are everywhere! They exist! You came from your mum, who was once a girl.
Boy: But what do I say to some people in my school, who don’t want to write as a girl?
Me: Then tell them this. The very good writers can imagine themselves as different people, from old men to young ladies. When you come here, you learn how to be a skilled writer, and writing as someone of a different gender is just the beginning.
And don’t even get me started on how one child came in and saw a Thea Stilton book.
Boy 2: Thea Stilton is for girls!
Me: Who says? Books are for everyone!
Boy 2: But my classmates say Geronimo Stilton is for boys, and Thea is for girls!
Me: (to a girl classmate of his.) Girls exist, right?
MeL They should appear in stories, too, right?
The boy nods.
Me: You can and should read a story about a girl, too! There’s nothing wrong with doing that. It’s great if you do that because it’s all about putting yourself in another person’s shoes.
I can’t remember what I said because this occurred some time back, but as I type this, I feel like I could have said more. I guess this is a battle, and if this comes up again, I’ll deal with it one step at a time.
The image of Thea Stilton and The Secret of Whale Island belongs to its creators.
I recently had the pleasure of watching Kubo and the Two Strings in a quiet movie theatre, and boy, was I blown away. When I watched the trailer (it wasn’t the one below, but I can’t remember which one I watched), I thought that Kubo was a girl until the text, “His adventure begins…” hovered across the screen.
I mean, the character was Asian, and it was of a young child. Naturally, I thought the voice belonged to a girl because I wanted to see more female characters who are not white.
Despite that slight disappointment (or rather, misaligned expectations), I loved almost everything about its movie, especially how artfully it was made. I had the sense that some really hi-tech animal techniques were used alongside stop motion, and watching the making of these proved it.
Spoilers below: tread with caution.
My dear, lovely editor, Daphne, who is always pushing me to write better, asked me this question: “Why is everyone in Dragonhearted Chinese?”
I almost wanted to answer I don’t know, but I’d originally written about how Shu Ping and Four Eyes were sort of meant to be Malay and Indian respectively, but it didn’t fit their characters. That immediately fell away when I started writing the book, and so did everything else.
Dragonhearted is also very Chinese because the school in which the protagonist is from is a very Chinese school. We have to learn how to recite Tang poems and we also had to take advanced Chinese from Primary 1-6, something that I also failed at. Many of the kids are mixed race, and I have made friends with them, but the kids are mostly Chinese.
We were, of course, encouraged to make friends with people who are not Chinese, but my neighbours also happened to be Chinese, and so, I didn’t have Malay friends until very much later. I don’t like to think of myself as sheltered, and I wasn’t, but spending most of the time in a Chinese environment as a child translated to the book.
More importantly, everyone in Dragonhearted is Chinese, because it’s much easier to write about a Chinese person than to slap on a race on some character under the pretext of diversity and get everything wrong. I wanted to avoid tokenism, among other things, and also, obviously, getting the culture wrong. It takes ages and ages to do research on a culture, and I would imagine that research into another culture takes twice as long.
I don’t know if the protagonist of the next few stories will be of another race, but if so, there is always the internet, the library, and my friends of other races to help me.
But the most important thing is always to write a story that is authentic, and thinking that I have to tick all the boxes in the race card defeats the purpose of what I want to do as a writer.
“Really ah? Just okay lor?”
I then went on to explain that I didn’t have a lot of high expectations for the launch, and that everything had gone as well as it could have gone because I am an unknown author. Like, literally no one has heard of me besides my sister, and that’s because she’s my sister.
And honestly, no one cares that my book is out. Ok, great. Another local author who writes children’s books and is probably going to keep tooting her own horn on social media. Sure, society needs more of those. I was looking on the bright side of things, because nothing really went wrong at my book launches and author meet-up things, and, honestly, those things were as good as it could get. My friends came. My family came. People who didn’t know me sat to hear me talk from a mic for a while. Some people who didn’t even know me bought books, so all in all, I had it pretty good.
(I am also pretty proud of the work and I am grateful to the gargantuan effort that my editor had put in.)
So what now, now that my book is out? I am still human, the last I checked. I still like the things I like and I still go for sushi. I have to go to work. Being a writer doesn’t mean I don’t need money, or that I have all the money, or that I don’t have to worry about paying bills more than ever. I do have to think about making the book succeed.
So is being a writer any different? Yes and no. I’m still me, but it’s just that people thought that what I wrote was worth packing into words, and that the thing I wrote, the book, is floating around somewhere.
Image taken by Poh Yong Ang
and it’s driving me crazy. Everywhere I go, the volume is turned up to the max. In the trains (or subway, as my US friends refer to it) it’s an endless barrage of ear-piercing announcements about how the doors are closing or the train has stopped in the middle of the tracks because the train in front of us is too slow, or whatever. There are babies wailing–today, I heard two Caucasian children screaming their lungs out, one after another, in the Circle Line! On another bus ride, while I was on my way to work, this inconsiderate buttcheek did not realise his text message tone of a raspy, “Why so serious?” was irritating commuters. It range every five seconds, and soon, there were multiple messages being sent within seconds, so all I heard for a while was “Why so, why so wh-wh-wh-why so serious?”
It drove me nuts.
People talk too loudly in restaurants in cafes. I have listened to innumerable people bitch about work, and just today, I overheard a bunch of pretentious hipsters talk about their new co-working or wellness space that they were going to start up. To my right, there was this middle-aged man being grumpy and cynical about how he may be retrenched in the future, because of the economy, blah blah blah.
I can barely hear myself think on this island.
I am also not sure if it’s just me, but I am incredibly sensitive to loud noise. Maybe, people aren’t as affected by noise as me, but to me, it’s 10x louder to my ears. The only place where I can find solace is the library.
Even then, it’s not the most quiet place. The best thing happens when there is no one in my house except for my cat. Then, I have peace. I can do anything I want and there are no irritating sounds to interrupt me.
Featured image: daarwasik