Writing non-fiction isn’t easy. Like any craft, it’s never short of challenges. But with non-fiction writing, there’s constantly the challenge to actually keep doing it and achieve something with it.
After so many years as a non-fiction writer, I’m now a published author of a non-fiction book. No, it’s not my first book which I’ve been working on for a while. Recently I published a chapter in a compilation self-help book (more on this at the end of the post). The timing of it comes on the back of my fifth year as a non-fiction, multicultural blogger.
Non-fiction writing involves telling stories about the real world, telling true stories. The narratives provide commentary on everyday events, the everyday experiences we see, feel and go through. Sharing and educating others on the finesses of the world, to enlighten about reality, is what many non-fiction writers aim to do.
There are times when cultural stereotypes hold us back from going after our dreams and creative passions. As an Asian Australian of Chinese descent, I’ve often felt this way. But then there are also times when we somehow find the strength and spark of courage to challenge expectations that we have of ourselves, and the expectations others have of us.
For a long time, I struggled to call myself a writer. My migrant Malaysian parents encouraged me to pay more attention to maths and science subjects at school – and I did and was much better at them than English. Two years ago, stringing words together for posts on this blog was a struggle. Today, I’ve written a draft of a book.
Blogging. It’s a space where we are creative and share creativity. Our writing. Photography. Fashion tips. Handmade craft. But blogging and creativity don’t always come easy, sometimes perhaps more so if we’re Asian.
Next week marks three years since I started this blog. Three years of being a multicultural blogger writing about all things culture and what makes Australia, Australia. In all honesty, it’s been challenging getting inspired and weaving words into sentences for every blog post.
Recently, I went to dancing violinist Lindsey Stirling’s show at The Forum Melbourne. She inspires me to write. Watching Lindsey play her violin and dance at the same time to electronic beats on stage complete with a funky, flaming red up-do on her head was a sight to behold. Anything’s possible no matter where we come from, and how we look. But at what price? How do we get there?
Last Saturday, I went to see Irish-rock band Kodaline at The Prince Bandroom. I felt very excited queuing up outside the venue of the standing-room show and almost burst with excitement when I scored a place at the front of the stage.
While waiting for the band to jump out on stage, Kodaline fans swarmed around me, shoulder to shoulder. We were all here to see one band, to enjoy the same songs. It got me thinking: why do we like music so much? So many of us listen to music in the car. When we study. When we’re sitting at home.