I’m not an author by profession, and probably will never be. I am not working on a novel; neither am I hoping to write one in the future. I cannot, in good faith, proclaim myself to be one of those creative writer types – the starving artist. Yes, I do like to write. But so does half the planet. Besides, what does this twenty-something biracial Singaporean has got to offer? Mostly rambles, thoughts, and opinions. I do dabble in narratives from time to time, but it doesn’t come naturally to me. Nevertheless, writing is one of my passions; an outlet for expression. So, that’s exactly what this blog is: my outlet. Unfortunately, my passions tend to be either short-lived or intermittent. Let’s hope I break this nasty habit of mine.
I am currently an undergraduate with the National University of Singapore, pursuing an Arts education – mainly because I love the Humanities and Social Sciences, but partly because I cannot do Sciences for the life of me. And let’s not even get started on Math. The only topic in Math I can do with ease is algebra, because, you know – alphabets. That being said, don’t ask me what I’m planning to do in the future. Sadly, I’m still figuring that part out.
I still remember receiving one of my Secondary School essays with a remark that read, “Why are you so cynical and jaded?” I still can’t decide if I was indeed cynical, or just shrewd enough to realise the power of the alternative perspective. Isn’t it just refreshing to read something that takes on a very different approach from the vast majority? There was once, for my examinations, I wrote a descriptive narrative about my travel experience on a bus. There was no storyline whatsoever – I basically just wrote from the view point of a jaded douchebag who had nothing but sarcasm and disdain for everyone around him. Needless to say, I received an ‘A’ for that paper. And then, I had to grow up. While I am much less ‘cynical’ now, I still do try to provide an alternative perspective with my writings.
Books That Made a Difference
In A Strange Room by Damon Galgut
This South African author has affected me the deepest thus far. Albeit its beautiful prose, it was initially hard for me to retain my interest in this book. I wasn’t really fond of the characters that were, at most, aloof and detached. It was only after finishing the book, did I realise the immense intimacy that was evoked from that very detachment. It was very unsettling and I’m still affected by it.
Nine Stories by J.D. Salinger.
In fact, I love all his books about the Glass family. But specifically, in Nine Stories, I felt that his stories were rather disjointed and abrupt. At times, I even felt like I was brought to a scene with no plot whatsoever – yet, I was still a little more privy to the affairs of the Glass family. I just love his technique of painting the larger picture through smaller pieces rather than the more direct approach. Simply put, he paints murals with words.
I guess, it would be right to say that I tend to emulate these authors. I remember receiving a comment on one of my posts saying, ‘nothing much happens in my stories’. They were right. But I do hope that even without a plot, I am either able to affect you in some way; or allow you to be a little more acquainted with my outlook on life.
My Work and Contributions
I have contributed articles to Thought Catalog, an opinion-oriented online magazine. You can view these opinion pieces here.
For Private Correspondence