I'm thinking about how it's time I finally do some #Representation work in my storytelling.

I've a lot of complicated, jumbly feelings about writing stories which borrow too much from my life experience. Since forever ago, I've subconsciously and intentionally avoided writing what they call "ownvoices" fiction. I've so many strange stories featuring a varied cast of characters in my roster, but never one set in Malaysia, and never a character who completely shares major parts of my actual identity: Malaysian Chinese, ace, sort of? non-binary, definitely queer, first-gen immigration of Australia, and other biographical fun facts.

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Last weekend I received feedback from my editor, A, finally completing the second of a two part alpha reading stage- allowing me now the comfort to feel I've reached far along enough that I can start talking about the thing. The writing thing.

I wasn't sure how to document the Writing Stage of Alexander Comic (or my graphic novels in general). It's not as instant, fast or natural as the rest of the graphic novel making process, when it's just me reading or sketching or drawing, and I can just post a screenshot/photo accompanied with a quip. You can't really show much with writing; only the end result. Additionally, I have this superstitious belief that the period of making a story come to life should be treated as sacred, private, personal. Talking too much about the writing while you're supposed to be doing the work is an invitation for a jinx, or at least... it invites said jinx to me.

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So I've moved on to the next stage of my Unofficial Residency. I'm back to doing Freelance Work. (Nov-Dec is one of my busiest seasons of the year. Of course I wouldn't miss it.)

Though I only completed like, almost 3/4 of what I set out to do during the first phase of the residency, I'm grateful for whatever progress I am able to make. Afterall, any headway during 2020 is a miracle! Luckily there's a second phase to catch up on things. So fingers crossed I can get some more in.

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I will confess that I've always had the desire to be recognised by an Institution: schools, libraries, museums, universities, you know. Buildings. Bodies. I want my books to be analysed and mined formally, to bridge the gap between the public and institutions, to educate, to inspire joy in learning. I love the world. I love the platonic ideal of academia: to chase a subject wholeheartedly, to share and introduce to outsiders the joy and madness and wonder that comes from seeing something unexpected in a different way, to find interdisciplinary solidarity in fellow nerds. Though I've officially left academia to pursue a career that more aligns with my way of storytelling, of learning and teaching, I'm still a scholar at heart. I want to be a part of this network, because it is where I feel most at home in.

And yet recently I was reminded of the Reason why I left academia, and it's forced me to reconsider my desire to be Institutionally Recognised, if it's even worth it.

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For the past few months I have been thinking about my political role as an artist. It is very strange to be at the point (both maturity and career-wise) when I must assert my intention as a person who tells stories and produces images/words for the world at large. I believe words and images have meaning, therefore they have impact. But what does impact mean on my own terms? (more…)

In the last 7 years since launching my side-hobby-then-career into storytelling, I've changed a lot. As I approach my mid-twenties, now is a good time for me to step back from the fast-paced rat race attention economy, to consider what I've learned, and how I want to move on towards a more thoughtful, more amazing thirties. (more…)