Recent Thoughts on Writing

<<< Why I write <<<

I have always been a reader. Words are an unwavering companion since childhood. I am good at observing, too. Details such as people don’t move their eyes when scratching their toes in front of a TV, or the way a man parts his lips when he sees his new lover or a torn condom package under a mattress in a hotel. But it never occurred to me that I could write novels. A full-flung, weaved story, that kind of thing. I have ideas, but I dismissed them as not big enough. Last year, bringing with it huge delight, the question of becoming a writer started to plague me. I woke up, and an androgynous voice would make a sprawling presence in my head. In a teasing, half-serious tone, it says:

Oh hello. Are you going to write today? 

…

And that’s not a pen!

I was elatedly suspicious of the possibility there was a creative urge in me. I admire people with the talent to pinpoint with exactitude, intuit intricate thoughts and read the air. But the thought of writing remained private for months. With the voice ringing in my ear, I stuck my buttocks on a chair and wrote a few hundred words each day. For one, I wasn’t sure what I could do was a real thing, nor did I wish for anyone to tell me what I should do with my writing. I wanted my motive to be simple and untampered. I write because I have made up my mind, not as a result of seeking validations. 

I also felt it was time to practice the craft. There are many moments in my life when uncanny sensations lodged in my throat – the moment of experiencing something new and important – but nothing came out of me and I couldn’t recall what the events had meant. As a young adult, I had struggled with showing people how I felt, what I wanted, and why something was important to me. I have lost relationships, too, because I was not relatable, too closed-up, too prudish. Wouldn’t it be great to have the power to communicate with assertiveness what it’s like to be a fellow human, to provoke and to inspire thoughts?

Writing is rewarding. But it is a meandering process that fills you with self-doubt. On good days, writing feels god-given. Words flow naturally, like falling in love, or taking a walk around a lake on a gusty, breezy afternoon. Not if you are on a bad day. Then writing seems a nuisance. It made you question what you built from the ground, resent the pages you piled up, and wonder how in the heck have you written to a point in which you have to confront a moment like this. But it also provoked my desire to do it well, and by the end of it, I was glad I wrote something even if no one was watching.   

<<< Finding the process <<<

Writing is as hard as it is said to be. When you have found the reason to write, you are still at the bottom of a mountain, the shore of a sea. So much of the work comes back to practice the discipline to execute the process, every day, for a targeted word count (or hours). The bulk of the creation is doing when passion runs short.

Finding my process to write is like looking for beautiful pieces of cobblestones on a seashore. You have to throw away a few before you can come back with a unique one. With a job as well as some formal learning to do, maintaining a large amount of daily work could be effortful. When I first wrote, I wrote a thousand words each day. After two months, it became difficult to sustain. Then I wrote seven hundred words on weekdays and after a few writing-free weekends and with a challenging word limit, I don’t always look forward to writing. 

It’s easier to keep the momentum when I write daily. Better to make it a necessity than an obligation. So I changed my goal to write five hundred words. An amount that stretches my limit and satisfies me had I completed it. On weekdays, I focus four days on the novel and a day on an essay; on weekends, I switch to editing what I have written over the week. Always the first thing in the morning. 

<<< Early lessons in writing <<<

Strive for good writing: elegant sentences, fresh images, and wild connections, articulated ideas, authentic emotions, sound depictions of the world…

The foundation of writing is the ability to notice interesting and different things. You have to be able to pinpoint the subtle difference in similarities, draw unique conclusions from observations, and contrast and compare two unrelated objects. What helps me the most is surprisingly meditation and journaling. Writing down everything I notice in my head helps to keep my senses sharp, which allows me to keep my images afresh and alive. 

Cultivate authenticity and confidence as a writer: I used to think good writing has to be a certain way, in sophisticated languages and with mature thoughts. But the more I read, the more I realise good writing is only a different piece of soul, just as treacherous and vibrant as the next person. Good writing tells the truth of being, inspires one to resonate, understand and connect. It supports readers with a new lens to feel and look at the world. There are no fixed standards as to how one should sound. Uniqueness is key.  

Be bold. Speak up. It is not safe to speak. It invites judgments and criticisms, and those kill us in our imaginations. So we use cliches to avoiding specifying our feelings and exposing our past wounds. But cliches are a safe veneer for nothing original. That is the opposite of writing. My rule is to write plainly and not withhold judgments.

He looks like an insecure hippie that has trouble getting women. 

He doesn’t realise his bald head, flip flops with a Hawaii shirt and loud laughs are the epitome of American men. 

She is pretty, but why is she letting that trite man touch her beautiful back?

You are touching her back and you don’t even say you are a couple! Give me a break!

Things like this.

<<< Final thoughts <<<

Writing is a part of learning about the self and life. I don’t always know how I feel about something unless I write about it. And I won’t be honest unless I organise myself into words. Writing gives me joy and the power to understand life. I will keep this going.