Why Write Now?

“Great essay, you have a unique style that is reminiscent of Inferno from Dante’s Divine Comedy” — this was the feedback written at the top of my creative writing component of a tenth grade English exam. The task was to write about a holiday that I had recently been on during school break. This would have usually drawn a rote response about a road trip or a family jaunt to a neighbouring country if it were not for what piqued my curiosity, the closing line of the instructions: “if you wish, you may make up a fictional trip”.

It elicited a response in my teenage brain, that recurs well into my adult life, eloquently summarised by the words that follow… “Game on!” Six pages later my cherished holiday recollections were of a steady descent into the bowels of hell as the holiday destination of choice.

Growing up in an Asian Commonwealth nation, steeped in colonial traditions and hang-ups, my schooling involved meticulous attention to proper grammar and pronunciation of the Queen’s English (often drummed into us under the ever-looming cane). This was followed by a fond Dead Poets Society-esque high school experience in Australia that entrenched a deep appreciation for mastery over the language. Our teacher was the head of the English Literature department, and her advice to us was simple: “Some may use their words to describe, but in this class, we use our words to paint!”

This advice has always stuck with me through my career, and I’ve found as a technologist that I’m surrounded by high performing analysts, engineers, scientists, and managers, all of whom describe with their words. I’ve found myself preferring to paint with my words, even as a coder, pitching my ideas to management; and now as a senior leader, writing papers for Boards and shareholders or the industry. Some simple tools in my palette include tailoring the message to your audience, balancing frugality with flourish in your words, maintaining and reinforcing a narrative, and being authentic and personable in your missives — even if that means colouring with the occasional expletive to drive home your fiery red passion.

So, why write now? Or rather, why did I not write and grow the love for word-smithing? As a change agent within organisations, I found an outlet for creativity with my peers and co-workers. However, in the last year, I’ve increased my public engagements on advice from a mentor, where I’ve often been approached by audience members of the conferences and discussions, enquiring if I could share some of my thoughts with their colleagues.

This, coupled with the fact that I’m now married to an inspiring English Literature teacher who tells me that I should write more, has finally convinced me that my ideas ought to be recorded and that my stories should be shared. This allows me to practise an art that is dear to me, and learn and gather feedback from my community of peers. Let’s hope that the feedback doesn’t liken my posts to that of Dante’s poems.

For those of you wondering how the essay fared under the red pen, I lost marks because of one flaw — brevity. My enthusiasm had me riding for a fall, blowing past the four-page limit to churn out an extra two pages of my recollections of a delightfully fictitious tryst through Hades. Lesson learnt — paint a picture with your words, but be acutely aware of constraints, such as the bounds of your canvas.