Susan Abraham - Malaysia

As Things Are

Its been close to two weeks since I've returned to Ireland and I think that the jet lag left me properly about four days ago. I woke up, having completely lost my fatigue and extreme bouts of sleepiness & even a couple of mild sensations of nausea - yes, it was really bad this time - and was thankfully, treated to a lot more renewed energy and a restored interest for the visions I  had planned to pursue.

I won't be sending out my manuscript submissions until the month of September when the autumn season sets in. I've just remembered that August is still very much - and possibly at its peak - England's vacation month. There is certainly a major drop to the number of book talks and signings during this time. Lest offices be half-empty, I don't fancy the increased chances of my submission for the slush pile, by having my story lost somewhere, on a thick waiting stack.  I'll use August for polishing up my manuscripts and also for engaging in other writing projects.

One thing that I'm really happy about is that with this new refreshing vibrance, about to envelop me for days on end, I have gone back to reading books with a vengence. It's not even been a fortnight yet and I have already bought several titles from the bookshops and just this morning, went along to order 5 or 6 more specialist titles with regards to Arabic literature, published by independent houses in London.

I'm a big spender when it comes to books and as one of the new luxuries in life afforded me, I stay unrepentant about this sacred joy. I believe I have contributed in a major way to the upkeep of traditional print, from my book-buying episodes here in Ireland and also elsewhere. One of my greatest passions is book-collecting which supplements my varied reading interests.

After several months of disruption - thanks to certain unwelcoming issues & circumstances in my life - I am now back to really celebrating translated Arabic and Persian fiction once more. For a while, I had completely lost the mood and inclination.  In a nutshell, my interest in books has been renewed to wanting to talk and write about them and to return to reading my favourite British book bloggers like I used to do so fervently,  in the past.

I realise too that all my deep loves never really go away. No door to a beautiful episode in the memory, is ever sealed. There will never be a closure. I say this because something very old and tender about Italy has returned to me.  Once more, I am suddenly drawn to the flamboyance and enduring charm of its old-world culture.

I remember now, that my serious interest in world literature in that very astute, grown-up way, first started when I lived in Melbourne, Australia and was often attracted to the romantic and passionate pre-war Italian films shown over the SBS channel. It didn't count that I did indulge in a fair bit of Chinese literature, back in the Nineties, while still in Kuala Lumpur. After all, Chinese culture forms an integral part of Malaysian life, so I consider my reads than a natural and certainly, the most ordinary thing. Till the present day, my passions for both world cinema and literature stay closely connected. My interest in Nigerian novels was also fuelled with the abundance of Nigerian films, I so enjoyed watching, while in Tanzania especially in the later part of 2008.

Picture Story - My Library

Here's a tiny portion of my collected books. I do love the clutter.

© Photograph copyright of Susan Abraham

Note

My resolution - and I can only pray that I manage to see this through - is to keep away from Facebook and ouch!...this is going to be so hard for me - for the next 8 days, at least. I am hoping to stay  focussed this coming week to send out my submissions, to some  daring places. Now, God help me there as well. I need to be strict with myself.

If I can keep off FB where I have often felt inclined to share links or comment on something, than I would have gained the measure of time in a generous fashion. This determination will definitely be easier for me in the current phase of my life, as I am not anywhere close to half of the interest as a whole, that I used to demonstrate on FB, about a year ago. A fair bit of the novelty has  already worn off and I'm possibly turning up on the site like a bad penny, more from habit than anything else.

Now, I would gladly stop tweeting as well.  Still, this wouldn't be wise as I really cherish my prized followers who have stayed with me from the early days and whom I've noticed, remain selective with minor lists of Follows.  I'm thinking tweeps like The Bookseller UK, Emirates Airline, Magrudy's Bookstore (Dubai), The Emirates Festival of Literature and so on. 

In truth, I'm just one of those writers who aren't good at social networking and writing a book at the same time. I yearn in this digital age, to be a recluse. I would give anything for a season of isolation.

I am very thankful to be back in my apartment here in Dublin, where I'm shrouded by both a physical and emotional space plus the freedom to write and read, as I please, before leaving again for Australia.  One senses the immediate serenity after the noise and clutter of S.E. Asia and East Africa. The major consolation is that tranquility allows me to to easily concentrate on my plans. I have gathered so much raw material that large chunks of photographic scenes, still wait in queue in my head.  They scream to be penned down, albeit an unruly style. The latter doesn't matter.

Right now, I'm at a crossroads where my interests are changing in numerous ways. I want to create stories and read specific literature that lure my ambitions forward with a bold jolt. I need to turn to things and people that inspire or motivate me. The energy needs to be just right.  I am forever fussy like that.

I suspect no passion really goes away but may hibernate on a back-burner, while another door opens for the meantime. At the moment, this spells a week of writing for me but with more urgency than intended. The preparation of a synopsis, query letters and so on...  It's not yet been a week that I've returned to Ireland, but I've managed to rearrange my library just the way I like it, tidy my very messy writing desk, collate the majority of my notes and material etc. Just some necessary displaced activity and I'm glad that that's sorted.

Credit: Free clip art of laptop courtesy of PureClipArt

Getting Started

by Susan Abraham

There is something rather magical about a Dublin sunrise. In my neighbourhood, the cry of a curlew cuts through the wind like the memory of a surreal misty morning, in an old English film. 

It's warmer today than it was a day ago.

There was no sign of a summer when I arrived. 

Only a sharp blustery to cajole a mild autumn flavour that spelt grey skies, pullovers and a sombre mood.

I took a few long walks while enjoying my strolls. One was to my favourite corner shop at the end of a picturesque street and another, downtown, where I lingered for a bit at a couple of favourite bookshops and settled for a tall chai at a cafe.

Still jet-lagged and in this case, accompanied by a heavy weariness, I wasn't in the proper mood to shop for novels or some enticing non-fiction.

I try not to spend money when I am tired, afraid otherwise, that I would waste precious euros, on the wrong thing. So far, my efforts have raked up a pretty good habit.

 

Feeling purposeful, I settled for some necessary writing magazines and the much

awaited and long-established Writers' and Artists' Yearbook 2012, now in its 105th edition.  Just so that I could get started with my pitches and query letters. To be honest, this updated version, was what I longed for with my whole heart.

The newest edition came out last month and I dreamt about it all the time I travelled. I'd not come across it anywhere else in East Africa, the Gulf, Malaysia or Singapore. Still, I would have been reluctant to buy one, the weighty directory, doing no favours to my luggage.

To my relief, I finally got to hold the book in my hands yesterday. Perusing my prized tome that evening, I was in no doubt that the manual proved an exciting essential encyclopedia, carefully designed for aspiring and established writers, worldwide. 

Several vital subjects were adequately covered. and  Where a majority of the markets and addresses proved to be in the United Kingdom, there were also listings for publishers, literary agents and other international media, worldwide. 

Any writer who published their work locally in a different continent, would still benefit richly from the varied articles that stretched on anything from the greeting card writing game and managing an online reputation and this, together with global listings of poetry, newspaper and magazine journalism markets, successful blog-writing, book publicity, the science of the e-book and the setting up of a writer's website, societies, prizes, awards and festivals; to a neat stack of self-help articles from established authors, self-publishing, creative writing courses, copyright issues and so much else.

I stayed focussed in my needs and while I would eventually find  other sections useful; was interested only in the literary agents. This edition proved most helpful. 

I haven't sifted through my directory as diligently yet, but already to my delight, I've pounced upon articles on how to prepare a synopsis for different genres and in-depth features of the literary agent. I'm aware of similar helpful tips on the internet, but to have all my publishing needs compiled into one friendly manual, conjures up a  blessing. 

Plus, there are other refresher courses for my slightly dusty mind. 

Some of the features include i) the role of the literary agent ii) how to know if you need an agent iii) how literary agencies work iii) how to attract the attention of a literary agent iv) how to get a literary agent & v) how to make a successful submission to the agent etc.  I noticed that although the titles may look too closely latched together, each subject serves to  offer an industrious detailed overview and have been carefully written by experts in their field.

These are then followed by the UK and US listings of agents, together with several others based in different international regions. I observed many established ones and gave a sigh...this would in no unlikely terms, be the hardest to penetrate through.

There are newer agencies but quite a few have reflected the inability to cope with the mountain of submissions that come their way.  Thus, the consequences lie in closed submissions on an agency's website for instance and this...dating to about a year ago.

And if I wasn't the proper masochist already, there was also a clear affirmation that as the saying goes, it would currently, prove much harder for a writer to get a literary agent in England over a publisher. Agents would be deemed to be slightly more ruthless in their focus for business and would not sign a writer on, unless the work held a clear chance of being sold.

At the same time, lest the creative finger be pointed accusingly at the hint of any dollar sign that may mark for misjudgement; many literary agents provide for cutting edge reputations and demand high standards for manuscripts including the fluency of language.

What I really loved about 2012 edition of the Writers' and Artists' Yearbook, turned out to be its gentler humane side. I was moved to see a few good comforting pages written by Alison Straw, on the slick ways of dealing with rejection. Tenderly penned and with great respect for the writer, Straw outlines the ways in which a writer is urged to moved on, even after a series of painful rejections. The key is of course, to not take things personally.

What spurs on the personal desired motivation  is that many literary agents now own websites and although the majority are armed with sticky individual rules, at least, I know what's expected of me as a writer. I'm also relieved that more than quite a few literary agents now accept e-mail submissions.

Returning to this Blog - 18th July 2011

I have been absent from my Typepad blog for the longest time.

I travelled for a season, returned to Dublin, travelled again and this morning, returned to Dublin once more. Clearly, where Malaysia doubles up as a birthplace, the shaping of my childhood years and also, where I once worked in young adulthood and still return ever so often from different places to catch up with my home country;  I do view Ireland as an uncanny solid presence in my present life; a romantic spiritual home if you like and beloved sanctuary. If anything,  the fascinating assortment of birdsongs at the crack of each dawn, will happily lay claim to this.

I believe I may have also experienced some blog fatigue. But more importantly, I reached a crossroads in my life about two months ago, without being fully aware of it.

I wanted to seek out different books and cultures but I wanted this to prove a solitary journey. I a natural extrovert, got to a point when I yearned for reclusion.

I found and I'll say this most honestly and possibly too, affliated to my own individualistic nature, that I often found my enchantment sadly affected by favoured cliques - still a hidden farce in virtual social networking -whenever I sought out knowledge, a connection or similar wavelengths.  My energy towards a certain interest would then be diluted by an obligation of compromise, held towards someone else's view eg. an average manuscript with noble intentions or otherwise.

And now too, thanks to the onset of modern publishing, one is treated to a surbuban middle-class view of middle-of-the-road writers. These in my eyes, are writers who have chosen to publish on their own, to be published in a very small way but later rely on false modesty to convey favoured reviews that have been mentioned about their works, on friends' blogs and the like. I was involved in so much of this support for a while - especially apparent on Facebook. I congratulated everyone, thanked everyone...and more would be expected from me. Whereas when it came to my own work, the reciprocation of a similar goodwill, was not as forthcoming. Clearly, there was no happy balance in place.

In the end, I felt myself scouring a giddy carousel where an approved camaraderie was bestowed from broken rules on flattery, or from a frightening ramble of praise and support, no matter how wanting the quality of the manuscript, failing which as a disapproving writer, you would be left out in the cold. Of course, one always has a matter of choice but it was for me, an unhappy discovery.

At the same time, I began to miss the magic of a genuine, more competitive and challenging publishing scene in London, where about 7 to 8 years ago, I often attended the city's many literary events, especially among the traditionally published. When I say 'traditionally published', I think clearly, my admiration is reserved for writers who have earned their accolades from literary agents and publishers...strangers who saw that necessary artistic talent in their work and bent over backwards to promote these.  With what I was involved in, virtually, I got really tired of the  countless egos. I realised that online, an ugly duckling could easily turn into a swan. Anyone could be termed a brilliant poet or novelist in a matter of minutes. I sensed a subtle lawlessness to this approach and did not care for it.

All of a sudden, I wanted to write a major work. A compelling urgency would suggest, that perhaps the hands to a clock that cautiously manouvered my destiny; had reached its perfect timing. I'll always be grateful to the small UK publisher that got me such a fantastic online distribution for Call the Ships of Dar-es-Salaam, my first little book of poetry and prose. At least, I was able to finally observe the majority of my scattered writings of the last few years, in one place. At least, there is something pretty good on record.

Now, I was suddenly consumed by such an intense power to write, that my role as writer, finally stopped playing second fiddle, to that of a reader. The power of my own confidence as a writer without a coterie of resounding echos, was made apparent to me. My desire to put a priority for creative writing above other hedonistic pleasures  was also ressurected from my love of life, the universal insight for humanity and a nostalgia for what I was now beginning to sorely miss about certain memories in London. Thank God, I had always kept in touch with much of the publishing news in England.

I have now gone back to writing. With books, I read less but have been urgently propelled at the behest of having to protect my own use of the English Language; more assertive fiction, honing demanding styles and forms.

 I am also easily attuned to the varied cultural television documentaries on social issues, cuisine and travel.  For the first time in  years, I finally inherited a clear focus for the tales I wanted to tell. The whole lingering feeling consumed me like never before and suddenly I forgot the time when my magic for books and writing, was temporarily but visibly deflected by so many unecessary things on social networking sites. Here, I must add, that Twitter, stays one of my favourite sites for information.

The bottom line is that whence, I forgot for many years, my own abilities as a writer, I am now happy to return to the craft that broaches for a tender exhilarating imagination.

I think this blog can no longer be just about books in general but perhaps more on works that currently inspire me to write the stories that I do and also on my own writing days that promise to restore the old magic lost to me and take me to an exciting future in the unknown.

Camaraderie is everywhere and my real friendships have already been built and are easily evident to me. So all that matters now, is the restoration of my art, derived from a personal essence of reflection. I don't even know if I can make it but I shall at least, try.

Tomorrow is a new day and after having rested all of today,   am going to pop into  two or three of my Dublin bookshop haunts and the very first thing I'm going to pick up, is the Writer's & Artist's Yearbook 2012. I am going to study the directory using microsopic scrutiny and proceed with query letters, never mind come a 1,000 rejections...

Credit: Free picture of bird clip art, courtesy of Karen Whimsy.