Publishers & Writers at the Arts House

I’ve always had a soft spot for Singapore. It was, after all, where I first laid eyes on my wife …

So when I heard that the island nation was hosting its Writer’s Festival around the same time as an official “family function” in Negri Sembilan, I leapt at the opportunity of attending both.

What really attracted me to the Writer’s Festival was the Publisher’s Symposium being held over 2 days. I was pleased to see Sharon Bakar there. She asked if I could attend “Readings” on Saturday since it was, after all, Halloween. But, unfortunately, I couldn’t.

I also met Philip Tatham of Monsoon books (publisher of Growing up in Trengganu) for the first time. We previously only had email contact. There were lots of other interesting people in the industry there, particularly the writers of children’s books, including Shamini Flint (the Sasha series), Adeline Foo (The Kitchen God etc.) and Emily Lim (Prince Bear and Pauper Bear etc.).

Well, that’s enough of the name dropping for now.

The Writer’s Festival was held at The Arts House which is located at the Old Parliament House, a beautiful building adjacent to the current parliament. What struck me as I strolled past parliament was its heritage nature, its accessibility and unpretentiousness.

It seemed too small for such important work. But that’s Singapore.

Efficient as ever.

The Spider and the Can of Tuna

With my head upon the pillow, I spied the eight-legged creature.

I slid out of the blanket, grabbed the insect spray and zapped it. But, to my surprise, it still clung there. It was still moving around half a minute later. What was the matter? Why didn’t the spider die? I checked the spray can.

Mortein.

Good. I didn’t use my after shave on it.

So what was wrong?

Below the brand “Mortein,” it declared “Flying Insect Spray”. So that’s why the spider didn’t die. Spider’s don’t fly.

Welcome to the world of product diversification.

It’s a most irritating, if not expensive, world.

Companies caught on to the idea of taking a good product and create a range of them, which is supposed to give the consumer more choice. Yet what it causes it confusion and complexity and, ultimately, more money out of your own pocket.

I often like to buy cans of tuna as it’s quick meal to have with toast. (Mix it with mayonnaise, lemon juice and some lettuce to make it even more delicious!) But buying a can of tuna is no simple matter. You now have the choice of tuna in oil or brine or spring water. Tuna mixed with tomatoes, capsicum, spring onions or herbs. Tuna in chunks or flaked.

The choice seems to be endless. Finding a standard can of tuna amongst all the different variations is a task in itself!

Tried buying coconut milk lately? You now have the choice of lite, standard and cream. Perhaps just get one of each? Because that’s what the company that sells it wants you to do.

In this increasingly complex world, I’d go for simplicity … any time.

I hope the spider did eventually die. But I couldn’t find it’s body.

Perhaps it crawled into my bed …

A Parting of Ways

I’m a bit sad today.

I handed to keys to our country cottage to the estate agent to rent out for us. I’m surrendering it for someone else to use.

It really is a cute cottage where I’ve spent many hours writing my novel over the past two years. You might have read about it in a post from last year.

You see, we haven’t been using it very much these last few months. There has been so much happening at home that we rarely drive to our cottage which is only just over an hour away. Also, in winter, it does get rather cold there, since it is in the highlands.

So it’s a bit of a waste, and I really don’t like seeing things go to waste.

But as I was packing our personal effects, I had a real sense of sadness. The cottage really has become part of me. I’ve been so lucky to have had use of it.

A sheep near the cottage says hello ... and goodbye!

The last time I felt like this was when I sold my trusty Toyota Corolla which I had for 10 years. That was so much a part of me too.

It’s strange how we sometimes get so attached to things and places.

Alas … it’s time to let go … and move on.

Oh, yes, I’m also in the current issue of Tell magazine. Here’s a photo stitch from it:

The three of me ...

I’m described as a writer-cum-graphic designer-cum-illustrator-cum-photographer-cum-can’t remember what else!

I was in the same magazine, two years ago.

They must like me!

A Few Photos (No Crash Test)

My daughter was late coming out of her ballet lesson this evening.

So whilst sitting and waiting in the car, I decided to mess about with the mobile phone and took a few shots of myself.

So here they are:

You can see that I was getting a bit irritated as it turned out to be a twenty-five minute wait!

(They are getting ready for their end-of-year concert so I’ll forgive the ballet teacher)

Incidentally, on the subject of cars, I read in the Australian newspapers that the Chinese car brand Great Wall only managed a “lacklustre” two-star rating with its utility vehicle in independent crash testing. So beware of Chinese cars it seems! But the paper was confident that Great Wall would soon fix these problems as they have reacted quickly to such issues before.

Unfortunately, in the same crash tests, the Proton Jumbuck did even worse with a “disastrous” one-star rating!

Adoi!!

The Thinking Hand

I read over the weekend an article by Umberto Eco about the decline of handwriting. He is, of course, the author of The Name of the Rose and Foucault’s Pendulum.

“My generation was schooled in good handwriting and we spent the first months of primary school learning to make the strokes of letters … writing by hand obliges us to compose the phrase mentally before writing it down. Thanks to the resistance of pen and paper, it does make one slow down and think.”

With our reliance on computers and mobile phones, the author sees that handwriting may soon seem unnecessary and, eventually, may just become an art form.

I agree that writing by hand does make us “slow down and think”. Writing with pen and paper is an organic, physical process. The words you create are physically present in the real world. It involves more of your physical body too: your wrist, arm, shoulder, head and neck are all involved in the writing process.

I heard Glenn Murcutt, the famous architect, on the radio yesterday and he lamented that our world is overwhelmed by computers and mobile phones. He still designs using pencil and paper. He finds that this creates immediacy. Whereas when a design is created on the computer, it does not truly exist, not until a hard copy is printed.

He also spoke about something called the “thinking hand” which is where the hand acts as the agent of his own subconscious thought. When he draws a line, he said, the hand terminates the line before he himself knows that it should do so. I suppose this can happen too on a computer, but less easily.

“The Moving Finger writes; and having writ,
Moves on; nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.”

- from The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam

Of course, the same isn’t true for writing that’s word processed. Simply resort to the delete key or select undo!

Writing by hand is a meditative process too. It’s also a lot easier to cart around pen and paper than a laptop.

I still enjoy scribbling by hand. I make notes and create mind maps full of lines, ellipses and arrows. I make amendments on hard copies of my writing by hand. I wrote my short stories “A Labour Day Weekend,” “One Day for Adlan Mutalib” and several others by hand.

I’m also guilty of doodling … not something easily achievable on a computer keyboard.

How often do you write by hand?