I have been working on the cover design with the graphic designer who has designed bestsellers like The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency by Alexander McCall Smith and Marina Lewycka’s A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian. As a designer myself, I find it both easy and hard to take the back seat and let someone do the driving. I’ve even done a moodboard, see below, as the designer inside me always kicks in when you don’t want it to, like at 5 am. The last update I wrote was 24 May just before half term break. I seem to be making updates just before the end of term. Today is the last week of term. Subliminally I don’t know if I will survive school holidays. That is why I have to do my updates just before school breaks up. Question time: “Where’s. Me. Book. Where’s. Your. Book. Where’s. OUR. book.” Answer: It will be out soon – follow these updates closely from now. The clock is ticking. Baby will arrive soon. Parents, be brave! Writers, be braver!
Dude, I am not allowed to complain because I was and am a writer therefore I am already a masochist. In fact I am hanging upside down now flogging myself. It took me more than a decade (I think 13 years and still counting) to write both these books. They are at last both being published the TRADITIONAL way which was what I wanted. It’s a dream come true so that is why I am not allowed to complain. Headache, backache, finger pain, joint and wrist pain, hangover, insomnia, stress, hives, hypertension, hyperventilation, just hyper, overeating, undereating, sick or feeling sick, nauseous, tired, exhaustion, not enough sleep, too much sleep, over caffeinated, under caffeinated, not enough guitar-playing, too much guitar-playing. A Tale of Two Books in Two Months. If I complain, somebody please give me a slap.
And this is caused by?
Myself. Over the last five weeks I have been feeling very stressed, not only were there three disasters in succession in London – the London Bridge attack, Grenfell Tower fire, and the Finsbury Park mosque attack, I have had to handle the most crucial process of the fantasy world of writing and art. Turning them from ideas to reality. There were actually real disasters going on out there that I just could not ignore. My own writing and art have suffered delays because I am in that crazy living-the-dream situation of having two books out this year and at any one point, one has to be ignored (usually “one” means me, but this time it means one of the books). It’s called sibling rivalry and I cannot give attention to both at the same time. I am a mum so I know this for sure.
What have you been doing all this time?
Well first I wrote the books. That’s when all the trouble began. Then I crowdfunded one of them and sent one to an international competition. More trouble. Now that’s all over and this timeline begins:
Thursday 30 March 2017 – Submit Heart of Glass MS for structural editing. Finished editing Cry of the Flying Rhino and sent back to Hong Kong.
Friday 12 May 2017 – Received HoG MS with commentary back and Unbound editor’s crib sheet (London)
Tuesday 16 May 2017 – First round HoGstructural edit begins. Work with publisher closely. Start building and compiling international network of writer, blogger, journalist, lecturer contacts for Cry of the Flying Rhino (London, Hong Kong, Malaysia, Singapore… so far) PR later on.
Tuesday 6 June 2017 – First round HoG completed and handed back to Unbound. Start on Cry cover designs.
Friday 9 June 2017 – Heart of GlassEditor pleased. Replied with another sheet of minor comments.
Monday 12 June 2017 – Second round begins. Hand in the Cry of the Flying Rhino cover designs for publisher’s comments
Wednesday 21 June 2017 – Received news that the launch date of Cry is Thursday 16 November 2017 in Hong Kong where I will be travelling to to receive my prize and to do the launch. I am not sure what that entails.
Thursday 22 June 2017– Handed back HoG(this is where we are at). Revise Cry cover designs. Go to printer shop, print and test 300 DPI resolution OK or not. If not OK, must re-do at 600 DPI. Received email that two Hong Kong authors/lecturers have written their advanced comments for Cry back cover text.
Why did you undertake the design of the Cry book cover?
Note: Although the publisher in Hong Kong, Proverse, has a designer to hand, I am actually a designer myself and have been for the last 22 or 24 years (lost track myself) though not a print designer. I know the software backwards. I laid out my school newsletters, Uni journals etc. Since then I have designed countless artwork for my architectural business, band promotional material, posters, CD covers, leaflets, coffee morning artwork for the school, piano lesson artwork etc. Therefore I felt roughly competent and being the OCD control freak that I was, I felt compelled to undertake it. To see the two draft designs click here.
What’s your plan now?
To keep juggling the two as I don’t know how to do a book launch for one book let alone two. Hold that thought. Check back soon. The juggler will be back on the circuit once the traffic congestion eases.
Because I am a control freak, I decided to have a stab at cover design myself. The first one, the black and red one is inspired by Iban tattoo pattern and Alfred Hitchcock film posters by illustrator/artist Saul Bass. But I think it might be deemed too London, too retro. The second and the third are variations on the same which the idea of the rich mystery of the deep, dark jungle.
Guess which one the publisher chose? It surprised me too.
“Do not enter when light is on!” Structural edit: that means blasting, incision, internal tissue re-organisation and cosmetic surgery. But of course, I am not talking metaphorically at all. I am talking about the body of work. Words. I’ve created strict exam conditions in the attic AKA the cutting room. There’s no furniture. I sit on the floor monk-like so it’s not very comfortable and I cannot fall asleep. The only distractions I am surrounding myself with are:
Junk food, some “guilt-free”, if you believe the wrappers;
Only two musical instruments for when the going gets tougher (limited to only two, otherwise it will turn into a party);
Vintage Sennheiser headphones to listen to the music from the book to remind myself of the great songs which inspired the story. Playlist? Yes? A musical? Maybe?!
My editor, who has worked in top publishing houses such as Orion, Hodder & Stoughton, Headline and Bantam in New York, is a specialist in this genre and has editted bestselling authors such as Linwood Barclay, Tess Gerritsen et al. We are in this together, me, you and him, and we are going to make Heart of Glass the best that it can be. And a tight deadline. I started on this process 10 days ago. I should be done with this edit in another two weeks. 79,000 words in three weeks, right? What do you mean “Vitamin D deficiency”? OK. Until then…
This is probably the worst meal I have ever had. I think my shoe is tastier. It cost 5.80 the princely sum for the worst meal I have ever had. I am also MSGed up to the eyeballs so will need a walking stick for the next few hours while my eyes adjust to natural daylight. It is starchy, bland and gloopy. It’s like eating hot clothes which have just come out of the washing machine.
When you are craving Seafood Wat Tan Hor and it’s on the menu, of course you order it. They had the cheek to offer me chilli sauce at the extra charge of 50p a serving. Nothing can save this dish so I politely or maybe impolitely declined. If this place was in Malaysia it would have shut down straightaway! The vegetables were nearly raw (this is the best bit, at least it was healthy). And I am a good girl, always have been, I ate all the vegetables. There were two prawns from a packet, a few crab sticks, a few squid slices, all from a packet. I don’t understand this business with the two slices of cucumber. Since when did Wat Tan Hor have cucumber?
Crowdfunding. Is. Over. The three big little words. 100% in 100 days. And the last 3%? Was the longest, shortest journey in the world (I used to say that about giving birth: new person travelling down 62mm birth canal takes what? Anything from about 2 to 20 hours.) But what a push. What a journey. Made me laugh, made me cry, made me wait, made me cry some more, made me eat carbs. The congratulations have been pouring in from y’all. Since last post, Stephen McGowan, Mary Fivey, Gemma Lloyd-Jones, Jessica Duchen, Lisa Radoje, Lulu Allison, Johari Ismail (my repeat patron!), Jacqueline Sardinas, Nicole Vatanavimlakul have come on board the Heart of Glass cruise and others previously named. 100 days is not long for someone who has been writing for 40 years. So many, many thanks to you. Supporters, apparently you get a top quality, first edition, limited edition paperback, months ahead of the shops – which I did not know before. That’s a bonus, right? A surprise!
If you would like to become a patron, you can! Up to the point where in some factory they press print, you can still have your name listed. Head over here.
Next step: editorial team will be in touch with me in the next week or so to introduce me to my developmental editor and start the editorial process. More news to follow very soon! I love to hear from you. Please leave me your feedback or comments. If you liked the vlog, please share.
You can’t get more post-colonial, vintage and ironic than this! This photo was taken on my fifth birthday in Segamat, a little railway town in Johor, where we lived for a couple of years. It is on the line from Singapore to Bangkok via KL. We lived in a colonial bungalow which was the staff quarters of the hospital where my dad worked. The grounds were huge. There were fruit trees and frangipanni trees where my dad had made a makeshift swing using a couple of ropes and a short plank (with drill holes, naturally, to keep the seat dry). I knew all train time tables by heart. I waited for them each day, the whistles, the chink-chink, the bells. They were my friends. Even now I find the sound of trains very timeless and soothing. Beyond all trains, is the world. But first, the plantations. Rubber, pineapple, coffee. Segamat was all plantation.
I remember wearing the Scottish kilt, waistcoat and my first wristwatch that my dad bought on his trip to Edinburgh. It was probably the smartest outfit any child had ever worn in the entirety of Johor. Two years after this photo, I first started writing. The reason I know it was two years after was because I used a new unused diary and it had the year on it. Oral storytelling came first. I was only trying to entertain my toddler brothers. ‘And then what happened?’, ‘But who was the first girl?’ Once the stories were too long to tell, I had to write them down, with illustrations of course.
Subsequently, about twelve years ago, I wrote my first novel Cry of the Flying Rhino which was set in Segamat.
Please support my novel Heart of Glass here, become a patron today.
The first story which I wrote and submitted was for the 1984 New Straits Times Short Story Competition. It was called Miel and the Honey Bunch or something pretentious-sounding like that. The exact story and wording are all gone now. Success came to me early as a writer, to my detriment, as I since then I always thought I would be a professional and successful writer without much effort. I developed a complacency towards the creative act of writing.
I was then 14 years old and the youngest entrant. There was no such thing as YA genre at the time. You were either an adult or a child. I didn’t get a mention and didn’t win anything. I competed as an adult but any competition was as tough then as it is now. Out of hundreds and maybe thousands of entries, there can only be one winner and the rest runners up or in the commended list. I was fine. I remember thinking that I just wanted to send it out, no matter what.
In 1986 I entered the same competition again. I was now 16. As per two years before, I wrote the story by hand and dictated it to my mother who typed the story up in triplicate on this typewriter pictured, the Royal 240. My dad bought it in the Johor Bahru NAAFI in 1970*. It was attractively wood-panelled. It had red and black ribbons. I remember that distinctive strong fresh chemical smell of the typewriter ink. It had two discoloured or stained keys, I am not sure why. Graphic designers? Anybody? When I saw this photo (which is the same model but it is not the actual typewriter that was used) I noticed that it also had two discoloured keys! Imagine my excitement at the discovery. I could not type and neither could she. She used two fingers and typed out 1,500 to 2,000 words. I sat next to her and read out a paragraph first, where we would edit manually, orally or aurally, then a second reading word by word for it to be typed. It took some time but in those days you have time! Everybody had time! We used and re-used the carbon paper for the triplicate copies until it was transparent, until you could put it against a window and see the view beyond the window, until an abstract pattern was made by layers and lines of juxtaposed and superimposed text which no longer made sense, which no longer could be read legibly.
She was strangely a perfectionist and I did not know it then, I just thought ‘Damn! Mummy’s fussy!’. We quarreled, I sulked, we came back to the typing, we snapped, we sent it off. Now I feel grateful now that my mother was so supportive and meticulous about it too. When the words looked messy or clumsy on the page, she would rip the paper out and crush it into a ball like those cartoon caricatures of writers. And then we would start again. As she typed I remember her correcting my grammar and turns of phrases. ‘Is’ or ‘was’, ‘would be’ or ‘would have been’, she would ask, sometimes to herself, sometimes to me, and we would discuss. The final decision was sometimes hers, sometimes mine and sometimes joint. Letter by letter, word by word, sentence by sentence, my story was typed out.
This time I won a prize of a weekend writing workshop at the New Straits Times headquarters: 31 Jalan Riong, 51000 Kuala Lumpur. I got to meet the amazingly kind and funny writer Robert Raymer, a poet called Jeya and a film critic called Kee Thuan Chye. You must remember that I was born and raised in Johor Bahru where nothing happens and most definitely, nothing exciting. It is like saying you are from Hull. The address and postcode of The New Straits Times office is etched in my memory forever. I referred to the letter until I memorised it. It went everywhere I went. It was more valuable than money or keys. I just had to have it with me. I held it in my hand, my school bag, my drawer until it tore at the creases where it once folded. I do not have it anymore. Sometimes I wish I still have it but maybe it was the right thing after all that it has perished over time. The letter had served its purpose which was to endorse me as a writer when I was still young.
*The Navy, Army and Air Force Institutes (NAAFI /ˈnæfiː/) is an organisation created by the British government in 1921 to run recreational establishments needed by the British Armed Forces, and to sell goods to servicemen and their families.
Welcome to the Cinema. Make yourself comfy and watch my 1980s-inspired show. Go on! It’s only 1 minute 19 sec long, I swear. Join in the discussion. The 1980s Reagan era was a time of excess, greed and materialism. Do you agree? Which song or songs from the 80s do you identify with which reflect these values? OK I’ll start. “I’m Coming Out” by Diana Ross. Why? It’s disco, innit.
To everybody especially those passengers who have just boarded HMS Ivy the Heart of Glass cruise in the last three weeks – Hello to Andrew Lee, Serena Lowe, Paul Greenleaf, Tracey Husbands, Peter Fuller, Serif Jones, Simon Vrij, Amy Carr, Clair Whiteman, Nadege Houlbrooke-Bowers, Charlotte Callister, Rebecca Ollis, John Wong, Sadie Nathanson-Regan, Mihori Erdelyi, Cissy Piercy, Lesley Ewels, Vanessa Moloney, Stella Soh, Gloria Chin, Kate McVeigh, Hugh Graham, Shirley Hartley, Luciana Sena, Lee Eng Seng, Emma Chase, Simon Miller, Sophie Chong, Vivienne Woon, Ania Kielbasa, Emma Bowman, Andrew MacDonald, Maria Donoghue, Sandy Noble, Sabine Goodwin and each of you previously thanked for joining the Heart of Glass journey. We are 161 strong today, we are 88% funded, 12% to go. Apologies if I have not already contacted you directly to say thanks – it is because I do not have your contact details.
Blogger Peggy Loh is a writer herself. She is, like me, born a writer, and born and raised in Johor Bahru. She is a writer with the New Straits Times.
Read Peggy’s detailed and insightful write-up here of Heart of Glass and of me. Check out her blog also at peggyloh.com which is called MY Johor Stories. Her blog has a wonderful vintage feel as she knows the old world well and tells her stories vividly and with so much atmosphere.