So I had two rejections today, both for short stories. Another for my novel pitch, four days ago.
For those of you who are young (you know who you are), they used to be called rejection slips in the good old days. The postman brought them to your door. They are in thick, creamy, textured, satisfyingly luxurious cards if they are standard rejections with no signature, and A4 thick creamy textured luxurious ribbed Conqueror paper if they have been typed by someone, hence with signature. Wanna see them? I have them in my museum. Nowadays rejections come by email with the heading “thank you for your…”. I don’t need to read the rest. If they liked it and want it, they won’t say “thank you”. Of course not. Why would they say “thank you”? They will start with “we are pleased to…”. There is no “slip”, no textured card to caress, no thick creamy paper to crush or to hang onto with your sweaty fist, no reality, no meaning, nothing but your iPhone screen to look at.
I woke up with this morning told me things were not going well. After a couple of paracetamols, it didn’t go away and after a couple of hours I had to wolf a meal down and pop two ibuprofens. It felt like a hangover and yet I wasn’t having a hangover.
I have been surveying
an office block in Surrey today and had to come home to sad news so not a great day. Tonight I applied to that London Book Fair Agent One to One event. I fully expect to hear nothing. That’s writing life for you. 99.999999999999999999999% rejection. This is for those who have dared to show their stuff and send it out. For those who write and leave it on their hard disk, it’s all OK. The hard disk is the soft pillow. Put your heavy head on it and don’t worry.
As a writer, am I too cool to say this: that I am very disappointed and irritated at myself for putting my stuff out, yet I feel that during the 0.000000000000000000001%* times that I had been successful, I had been truly successful, such as when I won the literary prize. Had I never ever been affirmed as a writer, I would have given up long ago. Underneath the aged grime, dirt and tarnish, the glint.
One has to look on the shiny side
The headache is gone. After the survey in Surrey, I actually found a pound on the ground. The gold disc was glinting. I couldn’t believe it. That’s, like, five ringgit! I had to ask myself, a pound or someone accepting my writing? I am not sure what is the value of my writing. Or dare I say, the worth.
* hope I got the number of decimal points right. If not, shoot me.
no sweets for me
photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/7236774@N05/3518111460″>Pound rolling</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/”>(license)</a>
photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/71380981@N06/16439868149″>Everyone Deserves a Little Portland Oregon</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>(license)</a>
Finally the day had come. The planning took about four weeks, six if you include thinking time, and I always include thinking time because without it, the rest won’t follow anyway.
Possibly the best photo ever taken of me at a book launch, thanks Ben
Please can I not have to do a selfie again.
Ladies who launch! L-R Nina, me, Siew Fong, Josephine, Mary
Josephine and Mary
Piano parts, Piano Man and Piano Girl – Me and Ben and piano parts sculpture
Geoff, Gerry and Siew Fong
Me and Tina
Me and Siew Fong
Nick and Nina
View towards back of gallery
View towards front of gallery
Gerry, me and Siew Fong
The four Js – Geoff, John, Jo and Josephine
The three Js – Geoff, John and Jo
Credit goes to:
Ben Chan for the photographs and the videos. Penny for emceeing. Not only do we share the same Chinese sign and the same birthday, we have shared twenty years of friendship. Geoff (Notes Story Board) for dealing with the 5H1T that day and of preceding days, providing minicab service, helping with things too technical for my vintage brain such as setting up blog and putting my book on Amazon UK:
and looking after my friends and my stuff on the night. Lastly thanks to Sunita for your kindness and your friendship from beginning to end. I could not have done it without you guys. You have made my New Year very special and full of FIRE!
HUNGRY – PART II – How I did it
What is a book launch?
I scribbled down what I thought this should be since I have never done one myself – a reading, drinks, snacks, interview and most importantly, attendees. Without attendees you might as well just read at home in pajamas. Readers, writers, heed – nowadays you have to do everything yourself. Publishers like to know you can work from dawn to dusk until your eyes pop out and know how to save them money by being a know-it-all and do-it-all so that you can make them even more money. I see them as employers. Why should they invest in you if you don’t invest in them? Because you write?
Arrival of the Southfields contingent at around 7 pm bearing cold drinks and I don’t mean teh ais.
Siew Fong and Sunita having a chat before others arrive
is probably the most important thing. I considered doing the launch at home but it is not feasible with being surrounded by toys, clutter, washing up, receipts, remotes, drying tea towels, and of course, children. Also home was not central and therefore not very professional. However, if I had fewer than 6 attendees I may have had to do it at home so the aim had always been to acquire more than 6 attendees.
MC penny and I at the start
I looked up about twenty to thirty pubs in central London with FREE hire of a function room:
possible venues free or nearly free for 25-40 pax
After I found these I shortlisted them to six with NO MINIMUM SPEND. That means I don’t have to buy fifty pounds worth of alcohol in order to sell five pounds worth of books. No. No. No. That is what people who waste money do. I don’t and can’t waste money. Why? Because I am a writer. Because I’m Asian.
So how did you find this delightful venue?
By chance at Sunita’s and Rufus’ Christmas party on 18 December 2015, I mentioned the list of these six pubs to Sunita and has she heard of them. They both said, that’s ridiculous, why don’t you have it at the gallery. By this they mean their gallery, Knight Webb Gallery in Brixton London. I was ecstatic. Thereafter, a blog was born, invitations sent out and a guest list made.
Food and drinks:
It was thoroughly enjoyable shopping for the oven snacks at Wing Yip in Croydon and jostle with the New Year shoppers (it was two days before Year of the Fire Monkey started). Before that I also popped into Tesco in Sutton drinks aisle and chose the prettiest looking labels for sparkling wine and sparkling water. I always favoured sparkling over flat white. But let’s be honest, I am not fussy. The label just has to be pretty.
Steampunk 1950s oven heating up the sesame prawn toast
But what happened to the jumbo catering pack of prawn wontons?
I actually bought 96 frozen prawn wontons to take with me. Sadly they did not make it to the gallery. Upon unpacking at home just before going to the venue, they were all rock hard and stuck together. I got very stressed because I could not separate them. Food really stresses me. These supposed shui gow became shrapnel at my lightest touch. I fried 8 just to test if they separated after being fried, and they did not. Therein I stuck the sacrificial 8 in the oven to check if after baking, they separated and they did not. We are talking about it being 3:10pm already. By 4pm I have to do my hair and makeup. There was no time to go back and get another jumbo catering size of anything. M&S Food Hall only had 4 spring rolls and I hate spring rolls. Was nearly in tears. Did you not know that being a writer one also has to have basic culinary skills which I clearly lacked? I rushed to the nearest Tesco Express to buy a bag of Thai Sweet Chilli crisps as that will have to do. Reader. I would appreciate if someone can tell me why the frozen wontons are stuck together and how to unstick them. Tina, Fiona, Siew Fong, Wing Yip, anybody?
Chatting to my guests
is the trickiest part of partying. I was sure I did not want any strangers or press because this is my first time. I may screw up. I only invited friends, family and friends of friends. This is using all my contacts in my email, my phone, FB, because not everyone is on FB and not everyone’s email is in my address book. As I have no PR or PA experience, the complications were the seven categories of RSVPs and the stocktake to match up with the categories, which are as follows: 1/ not sure, 2/ actually came, 3/ want the book but can’t come 4/ said yes initially 5/ said definitely definitely coming on actual day 5/ not coming 6/ not coming and did not say if want the book and 7/ came but did not buy. For these I now have a legend of symbols and colour coordination in order to not get mixed up and lose count of the book-to-people ratio.
Now life is simple because I can re-use the legend for any kind of party organisation.
A checklist is essential for the day of the launch in case of chaos. Anybody with mild OCD will know what I am talking about. Over many days I prepared a list of to do and to bring, which would help me get ready blow-by-blow, the list changed all the time, especially with the food going wrong.
Only to be ticked off just before you leave otherwise what is the point
Things to do night before:
Print out story, select bits to read
Rehearse and use stopwatch
Write inspiration and themes
Clear camera memory card
Charge battery and spare battery
Things to bring with me at 6pm by public transport:
Frozen sesame toast to heat up
Bag of crisps
4 copies of book for display
1 sacrificial copy (the one that I have scribbled in and will be reading from)
Golden lucky fountain pen for signing
DIY wire book stand
Small bottle of Thai sweet chilli sauce and one bottle of Kampong Koh garlic chilli sauce (wherever there are Malaysians, you have got to bring chilli sauce and I am not joking)
Spare shoes (wear flat first, change heels later)
hairspray and hairbrush (in case I get blown to bits before I get to Brixton)
Camera, battery and spare battery
Things to come with the Southfields contingent at 7 pm, by car:
The rest of the books
The drinks cooler and drinks (take out from fridge)
No launch is complete without a proper display. Without retail experience or someone from Waterstones to come and tell me what to do, I felt my instinct take over. I needed a stand so I made one that afternoon itself out of a wire coat hanger so my poor jacket has to lie down on the chair now. If a book is standing up, it can be seen through the shop window by passersby on Atlantic Road.
Do you like my DIY wire stand?
If anyone wants me to help do event management and plan your book launch, for a very REASONABLE rate, I have all the resources now. I can set up all the technical stuff. Can even do piano playing. Just, please, no catering.
Is “Manual” and “Operating Instructions” two different things?
By the time I am writing this post, I have read all already, except the manual which interestingly describes itself as “Operating Instructions”. Since when did the term manual become redundant for describing manual? Maybe it is now deemed sexist (fourth wave feminists, do you concur?), as it has the word “man” in it therefore may offend or upset those who get upset at the word “man” and have yet to realise it comes from the Latin mano meaning hand.
Lumix GM1 operating instructions booklet:
Since I am on it, I should review it first. Booklet is not really the right word for this thing. I have to re-read it over and over and I am still on page 24. It is written in ‘that’ way. Inhumane, robotic, does-not-make-any-bloody-sense way, just like a legal document but with technical symbols that look like washing machine symbols. I need an interpreter. You can’t say I am not a technical person. Strictly speaking I am a design geek, and broadly speaking an architect and a writer, therefore I am if anything, over-technical and over-over-obsessive and over-over-over-compulsive.
Cover wise: written and drawn by a robot in five languages, none of them comprehensible.
Urban Decay leaflet cardlet brochure:
I pick this beautiful piece of advertising artwork up to reset me. I study it last thing before I go to bed and first thing when I wake up. It helps me to restore a bad night and to clear my mind clutter of the day. The inside cover has a photo of a Laguna Beach bungalow where the first Urban Decay was home-made by an ambitious young woman in the good old days. This is a wonderful piece of architecture even if the photo is only an inch big and I have to use my magnifying glass to inspect all the details.
Cover wise: the colours are rich, gothic and intense reflecting what is inside: a nice narrative just in photos and it is a fascinating world they have created.
Irene Nemirovsky Short Stories:
I did not enjoy this as much as I thought I would. I really loved her novels. And believe me I have read them all. This is because the characters are too similar. There are 10 or 11 stories but the characters are poor little rich ladies and tight-fisted lothario blokes. This works in the novel context because you really want to know what happens to them. In a short story, it is difficult to turn it around quickly, because there seems to be a limit on what happens to rich people and the people they have affairs with.
Cover wise: you cannot beat this for coolness. The dust grey, the typeface, the classic design. Leave this book around to make you look smart or interior design savvy.
Margaret Atwood Stone Mattress:
This is a wonderful collection of macabre funny horror long short stories, with a tinge of the Ray Bradbury school of darkness, about middle-aged and elderly people. Two stories stood out: first being the titular story which in my opinion is the creme de la crime. It is so perfect I can’t quite fault it. Even all the little details have been thought through and taken care of. You would want Margaret Atwood to organise your ski trips. In this story, the middle-aged woman character (who has lived life with a bitter aftertaste since being raped by a boy when she was a teenager at a dance), seeks revenge on him when she recognises him and finds him again by chance. The second story that stood out was the Dead Hand Loves You. It really reminds me of the Addams family Hand. A jilted lover kills himself and chops off his hand. The hand comes back as a ghost to haunt the woman who jilted him. The denouement or closure of this story is really touching and superb. It took me by surprise.
Cover wise: this is the exact shade of mustard yellow of my new bedroom. Mustard is the nice word for dark yellow. It is the colour of cowardice, betrayal, egoism, and madness, caution and physical illness. The sources of yellow pigments are toxic metals – cadmium, lead, and chrome – and urine. The design totally reflects the cautionary, toxic and mad content of the short stories.