This week’s Book Diner interviewee is the fascinating and smart, Elaine Chiew. An award-winning short story writer, she is also a novelist and has great wisdom on the writing craft. I really think you’ll find her insights on the writing process really insightful and useful.
Can we take your order – coffee, tea or soda? Eggs sunny side up or over easy? Home fries, French toast or biscuit?
Coffee. And eggs sunny side up. Regular toast please. And free refills of coffee, s’il vous plaît?
When did you realise you were a writer?
You know, I don’t know how to answer this question. I wrote secretly for a long time, as in I didn’t tell any of my friends in my immediate circle (most were lawyers, since I worked as a lawyer before turning to writing). And it wasn’t until I compiled and put out an anthology and had to do promotion events that I began to introduce myself to new people I’d just met as a writer. This is a different emotional journey for every writer, I would wager, and mine was as much about confidence as it was about writing. But I started being very dedicated to it as a craft in early 2005, so technically, I’ve taken it on much as I would any job for over ten years! And without all that much to show for it, but I guess it’s how you define success versus knowledge.
I wrote secretly for a long time, as in I didn’t tell any of my friends in my immediate circle (most were lawyers, since I worked as a lawyer before turning to writing). And it wasn’t until I compiled and put out an anthology and had to do promotion events that I began to introduce myself to new people I’d just met as a writer. This is a different emotional journey for every writer, I would wager, and mine was as much about confidence as it was about writing.
Are there particular symptoms you think people should look out for if they suspect they may be coming down with Writer Syndrome and do you think there is any cure?
I don’t see it as a malaise or disease or syndrome. If it befalls you, why, that’s wonderful! You don’t need to be cured. Were it that all syndromes could be such happy things. [How true!]
Can you tell us about your latest project?
I can’t say much at the moment. Other than it’s about photography, art, love and parallel reality. Now I’ve given away too much. [Sounds fascinating.]
Can you talk to us about one or two of the characters from your latest work? How do your characters emerge?
Why don’t I talk about two characters from a recent published story? This would be Cherry Blossom in Everything About Us, a superb Malaysian anthology (it really is beautifully put together, with artworks and a beautiful cover) organised by Sharon Bakar. In there, a young girl discovers a new friendship with an unlikely person even as she learns about a different era friendship forged by her grandmother with a World War II Japanese young officer who garrisoned in the house they were living in. The genesis was the sadness I felt that with every story that ends up being published and flies out there to stand independent of maker, there are so many that die in embryo form, that never end up getting told for whatever reason.
The genesis was the sadness I felt that with every story that ends up being published and flies out there to stand independent of maker, there are so many that die in embryo form, that never end up getting told for whatever reason.
How did these characters emerge? I wonder if other writers might say the same: they kinda just do. This illusion is both necessary and vital for a writer’s craft. Undoubtedly, they’ve been there a long time, steeping, or sedimenting, whichever metaphor you prefer, out of something I read, or picked up on, or observed somewhere, details here and there. Forming an amalgam on its own, unconsciously. If I could do a time-lapse video of an idea/inspiration, it would probably look like a lot of adhesions, deletions, mulching, settling, decomposing, with buzzing fruit flies etcetera. etcetera. Just like fruit I picked up from the market. And then one day, the fruit is gone. It’s become part of me. That’s when I write it. And it comes out with a whoosh or slowly, sentence by sentence. And I like it as it takes shape, this character. Some time later, someone will come along and ask, how did you create this character and how did it emerge? Like now. 🙂
How did these characters emerge? I wonder if other writers might say the same: they kinda just do. This illusion is both necessary and vital for a writer’s craft. Undoubtedly, they’ve been there a long time, steeping, or sedimenting, whichever metaphor you prefer, out of something I read, or picked up on, or observed somewhere, details here and there. Forming an amalgam on its own, unconsciously. If I could do a time-lapse video of an idea/inspiration, it would probably look like a lot of adhesions, deletions, mulching, settling, decomposing, with buzzing fruit flies etcetera. etcetera.
Is there a particular theme or message you’d like readers to take away from this book?
Messages are the province of the interpreter of works: the reader. I must have read The Great Gatsby more than any other book in my library, and Hills Like White Elephants seems to get revisited every time I teach a writing course and each time I come away with something different. An art historical text I was researching recently said that creativity is really a three-way process: the art, the maker of the artwork, the audience of the artwork. The same can be said of writing: the author, the text and the reader are engaged in a creativity 
process. The meaning of a text isn’t just produced between author and text, it also happens in an extended spatial and temporal way with meaning extrapolated by a reader, who is a crucial part in this creativity process, don’t you agree? [I’m a former academic who preached the Death of the Author, so …]
What kind of writing process do you have? Are you very disciplined in terms of having a set work routine and doing a lot of planning, or are you more of a pantster? (You fly by the seat of them – Zinkologism.)
For short stories, I have to be very disciplined. I used to have a daily strict schedule of 8:30 to 1:30 M-F (sole writing), then catch up on writing news, emails and so on. I read in the evenings after the kids have gone to bed. When I wrote my first novel, I found I could barely manage, so I didn’t write short stories for quite a while. The novel was so all-consuming I found it set its own clock and ministrations. It took a lot out of me. And my family too.
I stopped taking on anything big for a few years. I wanted to be there for my kids since they were still quite little. Now I am back in the saddle, so to speak, and I find I am different once again.
This is a long way to say that schedules are not supposed to be fixed in stone. They probably go in cycles and as you develop/mature as a writer. For beginning writers, who are often told that they must write everyday, I say this: Please don’t beat yourself up if you don’t end up being able to keep to it. By all means, try to write daily, but the best thing really is to (1) find a routine that works for you, as in one which keeps you healthier and more productive in terms of writing output and (2) visit your work everyday, even if you end up not writing. I find that is a far more useful adage. Visiting means you are reading your own work and letting it speak to you. You are also learning to love your work. It’s probably a Confucian ethos as well: learn to be your own teacher. The Inner Critic is harsh. I found that if I visited my work only when I sat down to write, I was far harsher on myself. [I totally agree with this! You can read about my student who simply opened up the documents on her computer daily here.]
For beginning writers, who are often told that they must write everyday, I say this: Please don’t beat yourself up if you don’t end up being able to keep to it. By all means, try to write daily, but the best thing really is to (1) find a routine that works for you, as in one which keeps you healthier and more productive in terms of writing output and (2) visit your work everyday, even if you end up not writing. I find that is a far more useful adage. Visiting means you are reading your own work and letting it speak to you. You are also learning to love your work. It’s probably a Confucian ethos as well: learn to be your own teacher. The Inner Critic is harsh. I found that if I visited my work only when I sat down to write, I was far harsher on myself.
Do you write longhand or on a computer or both? Do you believe that writing method makes a difference to style?
Longhand? No way. I admire people who can do that. I’m not sure I ever wrote longhand. Yes, I do think it can make a difference. I’ve heard that writing longhand can make one’s prose more rhythmic, and the swirls or patterns of thought sometimes manifest themselves within the prose itself. In that sense, I wonder if it isn’t like making visual art. You can paint by computer of course, but traditional oil or watercolours are still done by hand. So, if you’re a literary writer and paying very close attention to the way words are knitted together into a sentence, I can imagine longhand would have an impact, wouldn’t you agree?
How do you approach research?
I love research. I probably over-research. I approach it like anyone else, spread wide, then spread deep.
How do you deal with autobiographical elements in your work? Do you worry about offending people or baring your soul too much?
I don’t know about others, but I seldom put in autobiographical details in entirety and never an entire character completely duplicating another person in real life. What I do draw upon is experience, emotions, observations, e.g. an observation of how one person likes to put her hand in her pocket when she encounters a person she dislikes terribly, but has to pretend that she likes. I will slice in just this one detail. So I haven’t had to deal too much with the issue of offending anyone or feeling too exposed because every character is this complicated mixture of observation and imagination.
To be honest, if someone came up to me and said, this character in your story resembles so much someone I know. To me, that would be a huge compliment. How real this character was drawn to create this illusion.
I seldom put in autobiographical details in entirety and never an entire character completely duplicating another person in real life. What I do draw upon is experience, emotions, observations, e.g. an observation of how one person likes to put her hand in her pocket when she encounters a person she dislikes terribly, but has to pretend that she likes. I will slice in just this one detail. So I haven’t had to deal too much with the issue of offending anyone or feeling too exposed because every character is this complicated mixture of observation and imagination.
What’s your editing process?
This thing about learning to edit your own work is very very important. In the beginning, like everyone else, I relied on another eye. But one thing I realised after a number of years is that without one dedicated reader growing at the same pace, I wasn’t really picking up on my own blind spots or writing tics. So I took an editing class. The best one is run by Will Allison at OneStory and it’s available online at minimal tuition fees!
Editing is a long discussion in and of itself. So rather than go into it in depth, I leave this topic with two thoughts which I know have often been touted by other writers. Read your work aloud to yourself. Not just the places where prose might be clunky, but also to develop an ear for your own inner rhythm and voice. And that way, hopefully work your way towards knowing when your work isn’t quite ready to be sent out and when it is.
Name one book you wish you had written and explain why it’s fabulous.
This is such a tough question. Can I ask a different one instead? Name five books that fundamentally altered your inner matrix and if you had only a few seconds to give a clue as to why, what would that be.
Cry My Beloved Country. I learned forgiveness.
Ragtime, E. L. Doctorow. Music isn’t just contained by music notes.
Michael Talbot, The Holographic Universe. It’s sort of a death of the Christian God for me, but also an affirmation of a universal consciousness.
Nicolas Bourriaud, The Altermodern. Artists from all stripes now draw upon the globalised world in the internet age. Our inspiration are all creolisations — no such thing as purity.
The Great Gatsby. It’s about lots of things, but also this: Morality isn’t so easily defined.
What advice would you offer to writers just starting out?
Take risks.
What would you say are the toughest things and the best things about being a writer?
The toughest thing: it takes a long, long time to perfect your craft. Like maybe the rest of your life.
The best thing: empathy. You get to lead serial lives, like the proverbial cat. Live experiences through reading, researching, exploring new worlds, being inside someone else’s life or head. And writing the story is also like living another life.
You get to lead serial lives, like the proverbial cat. Live experiences through reading, researching, exploring new worlds, being inside someone else’s life or head. And writing the story is also like living another life.
How do you handle the rejections and bad reviews all writers experience?
With a glass of wine. Some cussing. Then I get on with writing. The quicker I return to writing, the sooner I feel better, oddly enough.
How do you deal with the Inner Critic who likes to tell us our work is worthless?
I don’t deal with It very well. I am still learning how! But the trick for me is to do a lot of the writing in my head — so I spend a lot of time germinating before I even start writing. So that once I get going, it’s coming so rapidly that I have no time to listen to It!
What are your feelings about the growth in self-publishing? Would you advise emerging writers to self-publish or pursue a traditional book deal.
Different strokes for different folks. I think if you are a good marketer and know how to get word out there about your book, you definitely make more money from self-publishing.
Who has offered you the most encouragement and support in terms of your writing career?
My writing mates. Lots of fellow writers who read and commented and critiqued on drafts in an exchange format. A couple of writing friends who generously introduced me to their agents. My ex-agent (we parted ways for different reasons). Those were huge affirmation moments. Winning short story prizes … it fuels one’s persistence.
P.S. I now no longer show my first drafts to anybody! For good reason. Richard Curtis once said he has only one dedicated reader of his scripts — his wife. And if she didn’t like something, she only had to pen ‘NFG!’ (no fucking good). The point I’m making connects with editing above. [I am very protective of my first drafts too now, though it makes writing a lonelier business!]
If you could fly off to any era on The Book Diner Magic Time Travel Banquette, where would you go and why?
Aren’t we already doing that every time we write a story not in now-time?
If you could write anywhere in the world for a while, where would you head?
Probably stay right where I am. A writer of some reputation once told me I should develop a habit of being able to write wherever I am. Not until having moved around a couple of continents did I realise what a load of bull that was. No doubt some people can, but I must be a creature of habit, messy as I am. I can only write at my writing desk, even if that writing desk moves all over the world!
Complete the following sentences. Life is like … I am like … Writing is like …
Life isn’t like a box of chocolates? You know you are getting chocolates.
I think if there’s one thing about writing I tell myself, it’s this. “If you have something to say, say it hot,” Dylan Thomas.
If you could choose to have a different creative gift, what would it be?
Does it have to be just the one? Can it be three?
Singing? Dancing? Acting?
What plans have you got for future projects and events?
A novel will hopefully be in finished first draft stage by mid 2017! That’s the deadline I’ve set for myself. I set deadlines not in order to beat myself up ceaselessly if I fail to meet it, which will probably happen, but in order to spur myself on weekly.
I am in Unthology 11 (coming out next autumn, 2017) with a new, quite exploratory story.
I’m also hopefully getting an M.A. in Asian Art History by mid-2017, after I finish writing that tear-my-hair-out dissertation! [Fabulous – I’d love to study that!]
Where can people find out more about you and your work?
www.redemptioninthekitchen.blogspot.com. It’s being revamped to create a mini-series of blog articles surrounding my neighbourhood gastro-explorations and I’ve coined a term for this activity — the gastro-flaneur. The goal is to curate a space that enjoins art, walking, food and storytelling to see what thematic concerns raft to the surface, what questions assail us from the geography one traverses and the human behaviour one engages in.
I also have a new story in the Potomac Review.
Is there anything else we can get you?
Just the cheque! I’ve gone on for too long.
Do you have any questions for The Book Diner?
No, but if anyone has further questions for me, please feel free to write me.
Thanks so much for joining us – please call again!
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