Category: Meet The Millennial

The trick to writing a book is to not date anyone while doing it—at least, according to author of <a href=" Quartet, Daryl Yam. Well, that’s at least a part of it. Daryl laughingly recalls being unable to “get shit done” in the early stages of writing his novel, while in Singapore and dating. Writing is, after all, a solitary activity. It was only when he resolved not to see anyone and to focus all of his attention on writing, right before leaving for Japan for exchange that this two and a half year long project properly began. To date, it is his largest and proudest undertaking yet. The process of writing the book is, of course, not without its own funny stories. Daryl confesses to Googling “how to finish your novel” when he had two chapters left to write and not a clue as to how to do it. Surprisingly (or not), it was through the advice of “some guy on the Internet” that he overcame his writer’s block and managed to complete his book.

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Daryl feels like he’s always had a penchant for writing. Unlike many others who are either prodded onto their paths by the encouragement of wise elders or from being inspired by someone or some work, Daryl’s first spark of interest in writing came from being told precisely not to do it. As a young boy, Daryl was often discouraged by his teachers from writing. When he was twelve and writing compositions in preparation for PSLE, his teacher left a comment on one of his papers advising him not to write ghost stories. A separate incident saw him in the Principal’s office, because his principal wanted to know why he kept using female protagonists and female points-of-view in his stories. While such experiences might quash others’ interests in writing, this only evoked the opposite reaction in Daryl. In fact, he believes it was through these incidents that his passion for writing was truly ignited, as he realized just how affective literature—the writing of others and of his own—could be.

“Instead of feeling discouraged, I felt oddly inspired by how the words of a child could provoke such anxieties in adults.”

When did you decide that you wanted to write a book, and how was the idea for this book conceived? I decided to write Kappa Quartet when I was in my second year at the University of Warwick. I was experiencing many things at the time – spring awakenings, beautiful friendship, a renewed interest in art and culture – and it had all culminated in a desire to finally embark on a book-length project. I felt like I had something to say, really, about the life that I’ve come to know and the many other lives that I’ll never be able to. And like all other things the idea for the book came to me in the shower. I had my head down, directly beneath the shower head, when I had asked myself what it would be like to be a kappa – to have a hole in your head in which you’re meant to store water – to have an emptiness of sorts hardwired into your anatomy, to be born with it and have the state of your own humanity completely defined by it. I felt very inspired by this, and totally invigorated. It spoke to me on many levels. What was the hardest part about completing this book? And what was the most rewarding? I think the hardest thing I’ve ever faced was self-doubt. I invested a lot of myself in this first book. With Kappa Quartet, I wanted to be conscious of the fact that this book would capture a lot of my style and sensibilities as a writer, and of course I was worried that people might look at it and dismiss it for being too strange. I was worried it might be inadequate for some people, and I think that anxiety is something many people can relate to. And so, I found it equally rewarding when I found validation from a variety of sources, such as my peers, my publisher, my family. It’s the kind of support I’ve received for which I am very, very grateful. Did you always think being a full-time writer/novelist was a viable career option? No, actually. I never thought it was possible, especially in Singapore. If we were a bigger country with a bigger population of readers – sure. But here, no. How did you deal with that and get to where you are today? I tried to be very idealistic about it when I had turned twenty. I thought journalism was a way I could earn a regular income and support more creative endeavours on the side, but a few months into an internship with The New Paper quickly taught me that journalism wasn’t something I could do nine-to-five with tons of free time to spare. And then I went to university, relishing all the free time I had as a student – I had the ability to negotiate how my time would be spent, and it was in those years when I had a lot of writing and reading done. Today I am employed by Sing Lit Station, a non-profit and charity that executes and manages a number of literary programmes and initiatives. It’s a job with flexible hours that allows me to write while doing something that I feel is rewarding for both the industry and the public at large. It’s great. Do you ever feel unsure if you’re on the right path? If so, how do you deal with it? And if not, how do you know you’re exactly where you should be? There’s a moment in Chapter 4 of Kappa Quartet, when a character named Takao turns to his friend and asks her, point blank, if a person can still feel lost, even when they are right at the place where they are meant to be. It’s a gentle moment with frightening repercussions. Even I can’t quite wrap my head around this dilemma. I think of myself as a boat with sails and a pair of oars: I have a destination in mind, and I have all the things I need to get me where I want to be. But the sea is ever-changing, as is the wind; they do not bend to your goals, or to any of your great desires; there will be moments when I have the help of external forces, and there will be moments when I have no one but myself. For me I have nothing but a goal, and if every step I take brings me closer to that goal, I’m fine. What are some plans you have for the future? I have a manuscript of poetry and short stories at the moment, which I plan to refine and rewrite with an editorial team next year. In the meantime, I am also busy reading as much as I can and getting acquainted with science fiction in preparation for my second novel. What do you think of the literature scene in Singapore currently, and where do you see it going? I think it’s a really wonderful time to be writing in Singapore. There are now many opportunities in place to push local literature away from niche circles into a more public and even global stage, which will in turn shape the way we write and how we conceive of our intended audiences. There is also a raised political consciousness in both the writing and reading communities, and a population that’s more engaged in critical thought and civic engagement can only spell good things for the development of the arts in general. It’s a tension, I think, that will benefit the growth of artists and art-makers in the long run. There was a really insightful lecture Gwee Li Sui gave at this year’s Singapore Writers Festival that sought to predict the various ways in which Singapore literature can develop, and I think all of those ways are real possibilities for the development of Singaporean literature. For me, the most ideal path for local literature to take would be one that expanded its reach while deepening its duty to storytelling, to critical thought, to art, to culture, to the growth and blossoming of the human soul. Is that asking for too much? I don’t know.

By day—at least when school’s in—he spends his time with his head down in readings, pursuing a double degree in Law and Liberal Arts at the National University of Singapore and Yale-NUS College respectively. By night, he plays the guitar in 4-piece local music act Sphaeras, with bandmates Zakhran Khan (drummer), Axel Serik (bassist) and Wun Chun Kit (guitarist).

Since its humble beginnings in mid-2013 as an accidental project of four musicians who met online and who desperately wanted to use music to express themselves, Sphaeras has played several local gigs and venues, including Baybeats and at the Hard Rock Café. They’ve collaborated with numerous local and international acts including Weish and Brazilian Odradek, and to date, the band has released two albums.

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Haokai’s love for music and his band is plain to see. Despite them each having highly busy schedules—Zakhran studies architecture, Exel is a freelance music producer and photographer, and Chun Kit is a freelance sound engineer—they make it a point to jam at least once a week. Aside from a passion for music, he’s also very interested in law. “On an intellectual level, law is attractive because it provides a neat and systematic way of formulating arguments,” he shares. “Having a legal mind can help me better navigate the rules of society.” Music and law—an odd match, it might seem. But Haokai doesn’t see why it has to be either music or law. He seems to have found a sweet spot right in between, describing the two as “complementary.” Through a rigorous law training, he’s learned to be disciplined and sharp, although over the years, he’s discovered that you can’t put a hard deadline on creativity. “I approach music at my own pace. I am more productive and creative that way.” Not only has he conditioned himself to be a consistently hard worker, he’s also learnt to ‘switch off’ from time to time, and to lose himself in music—something not a lot of us know how to do in this relentlessly fast-paced hubbub we call Singapore.

“I’ve always been argumentative since young, always challenging authority and never accepting any argument at face value.”

What do you love about music? It engages me unlike anything else. It’s the only medium that allows me to forget any trouble temporarily, while recharging me at the same time. Nothing quite compares to the feeling you get when you discover a band or an artist that’s ground-breakingly ingenious. It also adds flavour to life, which explains why I’m almost always plugged in while doing work. What goals do you have for music and Law? For music, my band intends to do more tours in the coming years. We have released two albums thus far that have received considerable acclaim worldwide, but a digital release is very different from playing live shows. We have fans from various countries across the world requesting for us to play in their hometowns, and we hope to bring our music to them live when the time is right. For law, I’m just trying to learn as much as I can both in law school and through internships. Being new to the game, I’m still trying to feel it out and gain as much experience as I can. In the long run, since music plays an indispensable role in my life, I hope to be able to find an area of law that can reconcile with my interest in music e.g. entertainment law, copyright law, etc. Describe managing both music and Law. How do you manage them both? I won’t pretend that I’m excellent at managing my time. In fact, I’m a terrible procrastinator. However, I am very clear about my priorities, and music and law are both high up on the list. This way, it disallows me from being distracted easily. I would often pass up social occasions to devote more time to things that matter more to me. Do you think you’ll ever come to a crossroad where you’ll have to give up one of your passions? How will you choose then? I don’t think I’ll ever have to give either up, as hard as work gets. I think, initially, when I enter the work force, music might have to take a temporary backseat for me to focus on building my career, at least in terms of playing less shows. Nonetheless, I’m merely pressing the pause button and don’t foresee music leaving my life completely. It has and will always be an essential part of my life, both as a listener and a musician. I see myself attending shows and supporting the local scene as best I can; or simply coming home to my guitar set-up and jamming for half an hour after work. Do you have any fears and hesitations when it comes to music? Not at all. I think from the start I’ve had a clear picture of what music means to me. It is simply an outlet for me to unwind and express myself creatively. Music has not disappointed me thus far, but continues to inspire me and pull me out of my darkest moments.
When I came inside my girlfriend, I shouted a loud, “Majulah Singapura!! Limpeh Says, the ‘complete the sentence’-style card game that underwent crowdfunding on Kickstarter has already, within the short span of a week, garnered $75,000 in pledges -- far exceeding its $20,000 goal. Evidently, Singaporeans love the idea of a uniquely Singaporean twist on the fearlessly politically incorrect Cards Against Humanity. Instead of playing answers to subject matter we honestly have no clue about or are unable to relate to, in this version, we get to play cards with slang only we Singaporeans understand to topics including politics, sex, and race. It's the perfect recipe for hours of entertainment -- especially given the taboo nature of some of these topics in Singapore.

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Prompted by a school assignment with the theme ‘Local Identity in a Global Context’, what started as a design project that sought to house all of Singapore’s traits—her good, her bad, and her ugly—in one piece of work gave rise to a game many of us Singaporeans are itching to have a go at with our friends. Tan Yong Heng, the man, the jokester, the straight-speaking 20-year-old, and co-creator, Gabriel Leow, created this game with different intentions in mind; Yong Heng wanted to prove to others that pursuing and creating art does not necessarily mean a bleak, unsuccessful future. Gabriel, on the other hand, hopes this will spark a movement towards pride in and support of locally made games.

"We should all be vocal about things that matter."

What are some things you aim to achieve with this game? We (Gabriel, my partner on this project, and I) have different reasons for wanting to make this project a success. I wanted to show that this was a project from a student studying art. There is still negative social stigma regarding the Arts and humanities, that it entails a bleak future. When people look at this product, I want them to think, ‘Hey, this was actually a project from an art student while he was still studying,’ and to show them that there are actually opportunities for everyone, everywhere. Gabriel, the co-owner of Play Nation and project manager of Limpeh Says, wants it to be a success because he feels that there is a lack of locally made games in Singapore. Oftentimes, Singaporeans tend to shun from anything local or ‘local adaptations’ from fear of it being a cringe-fest. But that isn’t always the case. He wants people to look at this product and start making their own things too, and hopefully, there will be more locally made games in the future. What are some fun/funny tidbits you have to share that went behind the creation of this game? One of the few names we had for the game was ‘Rojak 69’. Rojak because the game has everything about our culture in it, and 69 because it’s just stupid sexual humour. Evidently, I am very mature. We eventually settled for Limpeh Says because we wanted something that’s easy to hashtag, easy to use in a conversation, and something with a local slang. Also, we like the idea that the person who’s playing the Red Card every round is the ‘limpeh’ who commands and dictates who should be the one worthy of the win. How did you create a game that was so Singaporean? What additional research did you have to do and what are some things you learnt about Singapore culture during the process? Firstly, it helped that I was conceived and brought up in this country. From there on, a lot of the things that are in this game just came naturally from experiences of growing up here. So, if you ever want to create a uniquely Singaporean game, my advice is to be born here. I Googled opinions of Singapore and Singaporeans from locals and foreigners. Interestingly enough, outsiders had a better opinion of our country. Things we take for granted like our clean water, great transport system, 10 months of fresh air... What is your favourite part about Singapore culture? I think it’s great that we have such a socially cohesive culture; here, people of all races, religions, and gender live in peace and harmony. It’s also heart-warming to see that we don’t experience blood-baths every other day. I absolutely adore the fact that we might be one of the most unoriginal countries ever. Heck, even my game isn’t original. But that’s us, right? Our culture is basically a mash-up of all other cultures, although we are influenced largely by the Western side of the world. We’re great at taking an existing product and making it so much better, like education, healthcare, housing. Nothing is ever original here, but everything is better. And what is your least favourite part? We’re all too uptight and entitled. Things have to be done a certain way, and to our own expectations. Everything has to be fast and done ASAP, there’s no breathing space. We complain too much--way too much for our own good. Neighbours cooking curry, people playing Pokémon Go, Hello Kitty queues. Limpeh Says is "a satirical parody of our nation's culture and fear of taboo topics". What are some topics you’ve found that Singaporeans (including yourself) cannot talk openly about? Politics, sex, race, religion, government, money, government using our money, our ancestors. How did you learn that these topics were not to be spoken of? Once again, by being born in Singapore. Also, seeing news of people getting sued or jailed for saying way too much. What do you think about self-censorship? I think self-censorship is necessary. Humans are inherently very stupid creatures, and we need some sort of filter. Take Amos Yee for example, I think all he had to do was not use such aggressive words or such an aggressive tone and he wouldn’t be where he is today, wherever he is right now. That being said, we should all be vocal about things that matter. Do you think Singaporeans are becoming more open and willing to address taboo topics nowadays? For sure. While I do not think that being open is ‘necessary’ or ‘good’, it will definitely spark some social change within Singapore.

Her name is Nur Aida Sai’ad but most people know her by her alias “Yellow Mushmellow”. If you haven’t heard of her, maybe you’ve seen some of her work—those commissioned by the likes of Redbull and McDonald's, or even the personal projects she embarks on just for fun. The latter includes <a href=" drawn onto barf bags with mouths that open and close and <a href=" cakes she draws for everyone who wishes her a happy birthday, among others.

The story behind “Yellow Mushmellow” is… Well, there isn’t a badass story—she admits she wishes she had one. She just likes yellow and marshmallows. Beyond the name, she thinks of Yellow Mushmellow as her superhero alter-ego, “the brand behind which I mask my anti-social desire to draw all day and never leave home.”

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Art, for most of Aida’s life, was just a hobby. Even though she grew up in a fairly artistic family (both her parents are in creative fields), Aida never took classes for it, not even in school. It wasn’t until after her A-level exams that she realised her enjoyment in creating little doodles was something worth exploring, not just in University, but also as a profession.

“I tell people I’m a self-employed illustrator but that’s really a fancy term for fun-employed.”

How did you get here? I didn’t actually take Art in school. I always just did it on the side. But I think what really made me go, “hey I can do this” was my A-level exams. I do this thing where I “draw my problems.” It was a difficult and stressful time, so I personified each A-level subject that I was taking and killed them off one by one in different scenarios in a series called “Death by Tests”. They were stick figure drawings but I am still very proud of them. Because I doodled them on the side of the pages or on rough paper, I caught the attention of my teachers. And after a few papers, they started looking forward to my drawings and would ask, “So what did you draw today,” when they came to collect my paper. Every one of your projects looks fun and has an interesting idea behind it. How do you come up with these ideas and where do you find your inspiration? I believe very strongly that creativity is seeing magic in the most mundane, everyday things. All you need is a little imagination, spontaneity and fun. If you’re navigating life after a painful loss, draw about your experience with grief and pretend you’re on an adventure in outer space, searching for meaning within the infinite unknown. If you’re angry about something, turn it into a monster and then make up heroic battles in your head — it makes it easier to laugh at your demons when you give them funny faces and silly personalities. When you’re bored on the plane, draw on the air sickness bags, make them into paper bag puppets, talk to them. Ideas are everywhere. Illustration, words, style and technique are just tools to express your ideas — these things change and grow over the years, but it’s these ideas that influence you that make you you, and you have to let them jump out at you from the most unassuming places. If I had to name my biggest source of inspiration though, it would be my two special-needs sisters. I think growing up with them and the unpredictability that comes with it forces me to make light of every situation life throws at me, whether good or bad. They also have a really brilliant, uninhibited way of looking at the world, which is very different from our conventional understandings and logic, and that, in my opinion, is the very definition of creativity. I learn a lot from them every day. I'm sure this is all a lot harder than it looks. What’s the hardest part about doing creative work? I think the playful nature of creative work makes it hard for people to take it seriously at first. Most of my favourite projects start out as silly ideas or just mindless hobbies that I do for no reason other than that I really, really wanted to do them. They are sometimes considered self-indulgent and a complete waste of time, money and effort. It is not peoples’ fault when they think that way because that’s the way the functional world works and things get done. I do believe that art, poetry, music, and all these ‘useless’ creative spheres can save the world just as a doctor can. It is the language through which we cope and make sense of our surroundings. It is the artist’s job to master communicating their ideas to the audience in an accessible manner, and I’m always trying to figure that bit out. Do you have any creative insecurities? How do you deal with them? As much as the social-recluse-working-from-his-basement-and-bubble-of-oblivion stereotype holds, it’s natural to always compare yourself to others in the field and feel like you’re never good enough. Good work that you aspire towards has the ability to both—in equal parts—make you feel like scum or feed you with enough delusions of invincibility to propel you to do good work of your own. I always tell myself to want it more than I fear it, even if that’s the harder road to take. Also, to keep doing it anyway. It doesn’t matter if you’re never happy with what you’ve done because dissatisfaction will always push you to do more. Your “impossible” pursuit of unattainable perfection has a higher chance of forcing you to get out, grow and create things than wading around in your comfort zone ever will. Would you say that you love what you do? How do you know? I love making things. It’s the greatest privilege and joy to be able to create. I think I know because I never get bored. There is always something exciting to do and think about.