This is my first post this year. After a long time not writing, I was very encouraged by my recent short story “Funny Mountain” being accepted in an anthology called “Hungry in Ipoh” published by Fixi Novo in October 2015.
During the non-writing lacuna of about five years, many things happened. That is, many things in the social media world. While this was going on, I also gave birth to my second child and I became a mum to two young children. In other words, I was frazzled. I barely slept let alone write. Double espresso in the morning. White wine at night. That was my life. (Actually that is still my life now, except that in between those two beverages lies a day of work, music, teaching, meetings, design, cooking, childcare, makeup etc etc)
What’s happening now:
Writing has changed, and publishing has changed. I am now able to reflect on what and how I have been writing and what I would like to next write. And in fact I would like to write on my own blog for a change from fiction. It has always been hard for me to write non-fiction. My essays when I was in Uni let down my grade. I don’t see the point of the real world, if that makes sense. Essays count as the real world. Research, word count, expositions, facts, figures, conclusions etc. This is all very mundane to me. I mean, I don’t even read newspapers. I hardly write emails or letters, unless they are for work and I keep them brief. I squeeze out a paragraph of either and it is rather unpleasant.
But imagination, creation of worlds, characters, beasts, fear, shame, joy, revenge, emotions, ideas. Fiction is a part of my childhood that I am still hanging onto. Without fiction, I will age and my imagination will die. That’s good, right? You need angst for the arts. Actually make that a double.