I've been wondering much these days if I could ever get my writing ambition off the ground and start a life I've always dream of -- as a full time writer, doing nothing else but to write and write, year by year, by year, till the creativity well runs dry.
I am more optimistic now than I ever was of the notion that there is a life to be lived as a writer even in Malaysia, a country where the concept of best-selling books is relatively unheard off, until recently, that is.
A recent article about how certain writers could chalk up as many as 70,000 copies in the Malaysian market, rekindled the interest to write -- an interest I deliberately chose to ignore in the past because I was not convinced enough if writing could take me anywhere from where I already is.
Yeah, I know -- 70,000 copies is peanut compared to the millions of copies writers like Dan Brown or John Grisham sold worldwide. But it's a good start for Malaysia.
I've seen one too many aspiring writers slugging it out day and night, got the manuscript published but in the end, they become a pile of garbage collecting dusts in the store room.
True, the author gets to publish the book but alas, it did little to stir the interest of the lackadaisical attitude of the Malaysian reading public.
At best, the initial 1,000 copies of the novel end up becoming a souvenir to friends and members of the family.
What good does that do to the writer?
I guess it all boils down to the way a book is written. "Old school" writers tend to be obsessed with the notion about literature being a vehicle for to advance an ideal, that a novel must be about fighting for the oppressed. But if truth to be told, there is more to book writing than that, I've come to realise now.
Writing under that "idealist" notion, the writers tend to be propagandist.
His writings would end up feeling like a lecture, his symbolism is tailored to serve the ideals and his characters would end up uttering bombastic dialogues -- words that are not spoken by Gopals, Alis or Ahmads of our world.
Now that is not to say I blame the Malaysian readers. I should squarely put the blame instead on the writers who are more often than not, choose to write to please themselves, and only themselves.
They choose words and compose sentences the way the like it with little regards to whether the reader would like it or not.
Now, don't get me wrong here. I am all for beautifully-crafted narratives. I am all for "artful" writing. I am all for poetic language. Hell, I am all for whatever it is that you can call "higher literature".
What I am saying is this: the quest for artful writing should also be balanced by the quest for realism.
Dialogues must be realistic, one that could come out from an ordinary Jack on the street. A subject matter in a fiction must be researched and not assumed and lump everything as a make-believe.
But if I were to really put the blame much more squarely, I should rightfully put it on the way writers are nurtured in the country.
Too many emphasis were given on the "arts for arts' sake" kind of writing, and too little on another art -- the art of storytelling and storyweaving.
Writers should tell a story, not narrating an art.
Writing is but a telepathy, so said Stephen King. What the writer writes should connect to what the readers expect.
If a writer writes to please himself or herself, he or she is in grave danger of being out of touch with the readers.
The problem with the being "artful" writers is that more often than not they choose to compose sentences that are too poetic, too abstract and deliberately symbolic, arguing that that should be the way a novel is written.
A novel is a piece of art, so the argument goes. I used to agree with that.
Not anymore now. Granted that novel is a piece of art but art should also be commercially appealling to be able reach a wider audience and readership.
Only by coming up with a commercially successful books can the life of a writer be sustained. Unless you are damn good in writing "arts", it is better to stick to simple and plain story-telling.
Having said my two cent's worth on the issue, I should perhaps now practice what I preach.
Perhaps it's about time to rekindle the old flame but this time, I should approach it in a much more down-to-earth manner. By saying that, I mean, I should now write for the readers and not for the ego.
Having stated also my intention to revisit my writing days, I should now take stock of what I have in my quest for a career as a full time writer.
To begin with, I can safely say now that my journey has begun. I've recently finished writing a short memoir and the good news is, a publisher had asked for the manuscript.
And they had seen it and agreed to publish it, possibly by the year end.
In writing the book, I had consciously tried to avoid being "artful" or poetic. It's just a straight-forward story-telling with just a hint of "artiness". Nothing excessive.
I am now planning another book -- this time, a fiction. I expect to finish writing it about three months after the publication of the memoir.
And another thing, don't mind the bad English in this blog because I am not writing the book in English.
I dreamt once of writing in English for obvious reason -- wider readership -- but I had since come to accept the fact that I had better write in a language I am more comfortable with.
Favourite author Stephen King said in his book "On Writing", language is a tool and if you have not the tool you would not have the craft. Well put.
And I am fairly good at writing in the national language, that much I can say.
Wish me luck.
