Writing from the In-Between
With my international book tour beginning next month at Waterstones Leadenhall in London (and continuing to Bali, Singapore, Malaysia and back to Brighton in Blighty) to launch my latest and sixth novel In Safe Hands, I’ve been reflecting on how I became international, not by choice, but because I don’t quite belong anywhere.
Although I’ve lived in the UK for 29 years, 10 months and 16 days, I am definitely not British. Even when I feel British (watching TV, drinking house white in pubs, office banter, laughing at the jokes, and cracking them), I know I am still an ABI: another bloody immigrant. Like many ABIs, I came here to study, to work, and then to study and work some more. I’ve been away from Malaysia and Singapore for as long as I’ve been here, which means I’m not considered Asian enough to be Asian, yet never British enough to be British. I’m in no man’s land.
I’m not considered Asian enough to be Asian, yet never British enough to be British.
My writing has always reflected this tension. Only through fiction can I explore the big themes. They come to me when I am pushing the trolley in Sainsbury’s or queueing for a roll in Greggs. As I have written from the POV of many cultures, I feel that the themes of displacement come to me easily. I have the experience and maturity now. Over the years, my publisher has recognised this and positioned me for international festivals and launches. At first, I doth protest since I considered my home audience the UK.
I had thought of myself as a British author. I am living, writing and working in Britain, am I not? A voter, a taxpayer. I had always written for a British audience. I have written short stories with all-white characters, and they have been well-received and published. But publishers know the market, and so should I. I am not a diverse writer in the international gigs. Diverse is relative. Who is diverse? I am only addressing diverse themes (identity, migration, family, and cultural tension) in my writing because they bug me, yet appeal to me.
It took me six novels to realise I had already found my audience: readers who understand the in-between, who know the struggle of not quite fitting anywhere. They are abroad, wherever that is.
FAQs: On Being an International Author
People often ask me what it means to be an international author. Here are some of the most common questions I get at events or while travelling:
Q. How did you decide to be an international author?
A. I did not decide this. It’s all unplanned. I keep writing for the British market, but I keep getting rejected. I have never been accepted by a British publisher apart from Unbound, and we all know how that went. I always aimed to write engaging stories which are universal yet specific. Even when I write about white characters or London characters, the big questions always hit me, the what ifs, the how comes, the unbearable.
Q. What about the jet lag?
A. There is no jet lag. Forget it. It’s all in your mind. If you are tired all year round, then you’re already jet-lagged every day.
Q. Does the publisher make you do this?
A. No, they don’t. However, there is pressure to perform. With the right campaign and PR, you can hit bestseller status (I’ve done it once). But you have to match the publisher’s effort.
Q. Do you have to do international literary festivals?
A. No. Nothing is mandatory. You can have no book launches, social media or public appearances. It’s all optional.
Q. Do they pay?
A. No, they usually don’t. Some gigs are all covered, such as the Jaipur Lit Fest, but most festivals have to be paid out of the author’s advance, i.e. pocket. That is why writing is a middle-class profession for those with a stable income or with a family fortune. No one can live indefinitely on low royalties while juggling writing, admin and promo. That’s already three jobs. Keep the day job.
Q. Where do you stay?
A. Hotels, Airbnb or friends’ homes.
Q. Do you sell a lot of books at festivals and events?
A. A lot is relative. I sell 15 to 40 per festival or event, but the big sales come from booksellers. Chain bookstores buy thousands of copies, and that is how you can reach the international audience further. It is not through any of my personal efforts, public appearances, social media or the quality of my writing. Nothing I do can change these figures. The market giveth, the market taketh away. All promo is futile and should only be for fun.
Q. Oh, that’s a pain. What is fun about it then?
A. I love designing my own posters, covers, merch, fan art. I love meeting big-name authors and readers at festivals. I love performing my work. It’s all showbiz. I do not see it as promo. I see it as a show. And most of all, I love writing, especially when I am on the international gig circuits and there is a lot of downtime. I don’t like to be disturbed or distracted.