The Big Read: Singapore writers are going places but what’s the next chapter for SingLit?

SINGAPORE — In 2020, in the throes of the Covid-19 pandemic, Singaporean Kyla Zhao felt terribly isolated and homesick as a student at Stanford University in the United States. 
Travel restrictions and grounded flights also left her feeling bereft and unsure if she would see the sunny shores of Singapore again.
In an effort to feel closer to home, Ms Zhao, now 26, sought solace in writing about Singapore.
That eventually evolved into her first novel, The Fraud Squad, a tale of a young woman who infiltrates the local high-society scene in hopes of getting a coveted writing position at a luxury magazine. 
“Writing about places in Singapore and Singaporean food was a nice way for me to think about home while I was halfway across the world,” said Ms Zhao, who initially had no intention of getting her story published.  
But after connecting with writing communities in the US who encouraged her to get it published, she searched for literary agents and contacted them through cold emailing. She later worked with one agent to pitch her manuscript to major publishing houses. 
In June 2021, Berkley Books, an imprint of Penguin Random House, picked up her book, which was published in January 2023. Her second book, Valley Verified, followed a year later.
She is now set to release a chess-themed book in September, with a fourth book expected to be out in 2026. 
While authors like Ms Zhao may secure multiple book deals through traditional channels, an alternative path to publication involves winning competitions that frequently offer publishing contracts as prizes.
Mr Max Pasakorn, 28, had his debut chapbook, A Study In Our Selves, published in 2023 via this route. A chapbook is a small booklet or pamphlet containing poems, short stories, or essays, typically produced independently or by a small press. 
His winning submission for the 2022 OutWrite Chapbook Competition detailed his life as a queer youth who was born in Thailand and moved to Singapore as a child. 
His chapbook was published by Neon Hemlock Press, a small, independent press based in the US, with a run of just 100 copies. 
But Mr Pasakorn, a fresh graduate from Yale-NUS College, said: “It (the chapbook) is a great representation of the voice that I was capable of in 2022. Now, I’m writing a full-length memoir, and it’s going to take me maybe one or two more years.”
Unlike Ms Zhao and Mr Pasakorn, writer-translator Jeremy Tiang’s path to writing was not as direct. 
For the 47-year-old who has been writing since his schooldays, the turning point came after he won the Golden Point Award in 2009 for his short story Trondheim. 
The award, organised by the National Arts Council, is a prestigious Singaporean literary competition that recognises and promotes emerging writers by giving out prizes in various categories, such as short stories and poetry. 
Five years before winning the Golden Point Award, Mr Tiang had not considered writing seriously. At one point, he spent a year teaching at a junior college while writing plays and dabbling in acting on and off.
But after deciding that he did not want teaching to be his “whole life”, he quit his job to figure out what he could do. 
“With all that time and space, I went from acting to writing plays to writing fiction to translation, and then that kind of became what I do,” said Mr Tiang.
He has since published a short story collection and a novel in 2015 and 2017, respectively.  
His short story collection, It Never Rains On National Day, was shortlisted for the Singapore Literature Prize in 2016 and his debut novel State of Emergency won the Singapore Literature Prize in 2018. 
He was also the first Singaporean to make the International Booker Prize longlist in 2023 for his translation of Chinese author and playwright Zou Jingzhi’s Ninth Building. 
Other Singaporean writers have similarly made a splash on the international scene:
These writers’ success reflects the island’s burgeoning literary scene in recent years, with SingLit becoming a trendy moniker for books written by Singaporeans or Singapore-based writers. 
Mr Alexander Chua, 37, who owns independent bookstore BookBar, which focuses on Singaporean and Asian literature, said: “I think there’s been a growing interest in local literature, we do see more people willing to try a local book for the first time.”
Ms Seet Siew Ling, 34 and Ms Charmaine He, 32, co-founders of the online bookstore, Wormhole, have also seen an uptick in sales of local titles this year. 
“Local non-fiction and memoirs have been particularly in demand among our customers…We have months where we see an even split between local and international titles, which is great!” they said in an email reply to TODAY. 
Still, it is not all hunky-dory. While there has been more local literature published and interest in the last 10 years, publishers such as Ethos Books and The Nutgraf Books told TODAY that it has been “challenging” of late, especially with the shuttering of retail stores and the loss of another local publisher, Math Paper Press. 
With authors and some publishers in Singapore still driven more by passion rather than financial gains, TODAY explores the local literary scene to uncover what motivates the players and what measures are necessary to invigorate the industry.
There are many pathways to becoming a writer, and for Dr Nuraliah Norsaid, it all started with rewriting fairy tales from borrowed library books as a child to give them an ending she liked.  
When her parents dismissed the idea of her becoming a writer, Dr Nuraliah, 38, chose the science stream instead of the arts in junior college and secondary school. 
However, she rediscovered her passion for writing while studying English at Nanyang Technological University (NTU), and delved deeper into the craft, earning herself a doctorate in creative writing. 
There, she saw creative writing as a profession with great cultural, historical, and social significance. As part of her doctorate, Dr Nuraliah wrote the beginnings of The Gatekeeper, which won the Epigram Fiction Prize in 2015.
“I have so many questions about what’s going on, so much anger and rage about what’s going on in the world that it needs to find shape somewhere, my writing is where it finds shape,” said Dr Nuraliah. 
Dr Nuraliah also teaches interdisciplinary thinking and research writing at NTU. 
For Ms Shze-Hui Tjoa, 31, her book of creative nonfiction, The Story Game, started out as a series of political essays that evolved into a memoir after five years of writing.  
“When I started writing, I thought it was going to be a book about political issues because everywhere I looked, I saw all these systems that look very good but on the inside were a bit rotten,” she said. 
After writing the book for five years, Ms Tjoa realised that how she viewed the world was how she saw herself, and decided to change the book’s direction.
The book largely details the traumatic time she experienced in a piano conservatory as a child in Singapore, and it was her way of reconciling herself with the past. 
To fully commit herself to writing the book, Ms Tjoa quit her marketing job and transitioned to freelance work instead. 
Another writer, Mr Desmond Kon, 53, came into writing from journalism and has never looked back since.
Mr Kon teaches creative writing at NTU. Over the years, he has authored 18 books spanning disparate genres, such as fiction, memoir, poetry, and experimental writing. 
His new poetry collection, Heart Fiat, is coming out in September. 
But even someone as prolific as Mr Kon still finds the process of writing highly challenging.  
“Just keeping at the writing is tough when so much demands of your time,” he said. 
It can also be really difficult trying to get one’s book published. “I don’t think people know how much time, effort, sweat and tears it all might take,” Mr Kon said.
Given the size of Singapore’s market, the process of getting one’s works published locally is relatively more straightforward compared to getting it done by an overseas publisher. 
It varies from publisher to publisher, but each local publisher would usually have guidelines on whether it needs a complete manuscript or a book proposal for a start.
Submitting a complete manuscript would normally involve need a cover letter pitching the work, a synopsis, and sample characters.
Mr Ng Kah Gay 44, Ethos Books’ publisher, said: “We will look at the cover letter to discern the intent, and then we look at the voice and whether the execution and storyline fulfil the intent.
“There are certain critical junctures for each manuscript,” added Mr Ng.
“The introduction is very important. If the introduction is losing its footing, we know that we are working with an inexperienced author. Then, the way that we look at a manuscript will be informed by that experience.”
Ethos Books receives roughly 50 manuscript submissions per month but publishes just six to eight titles each year.
Sometimes, book proposals are also submitted instead of completed manuscripts.
If the publisher accepts the book proposal, it has a non-binding agreement to support the writer in developing the manuscript, which is largely the writing process. In return, the publisher will have the first option to consider the publication of the work.
At the end of the process, the publisher will evaluate whether the completed work is a right fit. If it is not, the writer can find another publisher.
Getting published by an overseas publisher often involves the same process though it can be a bit more complicated with larger firms. 
Writers also opt for foreign publishers for various reasons — including the appeal of reaching an international audience. 
Writer Daryl Li said: “I find it necessary to submit to presses aboard just because there are only that many publishers in Singapore.” 
“They can only take that much work, so I think it’s always nice to keep an eye out for different opportunities abroad,” the 38-year-old added.  
For Mr Li, his decision to go with an international publisher also has to do with taste. His latest book, Tenderly, Tenderly is published by a small press in Wales.
Tenderly, Tenderly is a collection of essays written about time, the body, trauma, and the impossible search for tenderness and human connection.
He said that the local scene might prefer certain types of works, and it can be harder to get some types of books published locally. 
“It is a matter of finding a place where the book belongs,” said Mr Li.  
Similarly, Ms Tjoa felt that her memoir, The Story Game, would be deemed unusual by the publishing industry here and thought it might sell better overseas.
She said while her book is a memoir, it is written in a highly fictionalised way. 
“Once I realised what the content of the memoir was, I felt like this narrative was unlikely to sell in Singapore because it doesn’t really fit the way we think about privilege in Singapore,” said Ms Tjoa. 
In her memoir, she talks about her identity as the child of an immigrant, her feelings about being in a mixed-race marriage and on mental health. 
Her book was eventually picked up by Tin House, one of the largest indie book publishers in the US. Getting to that point was a journey in itself.
With larger publishing houses, one typically needs a literary agent to pitch the manuscript and that also means finding the right agent who believes in one’s work. 
Like Ms Zhao, Ms Tjao also cold sent queries to literary agents.
One agent liked her manuscript but wanted her to rewrite it as she found it too “experimental”.
After sending her manuscript to several agents and receiving their feedback, Ms Tjoa found the right fit when another agent gave her suggestions to delve deeper and be more honest about her emotional journey.
Ms Tjoa felt this agent better understood where she was coming from and what the book meant to her, so she went with the agent. 
While it may be tempting for local writers to look for an international publisher, with an eye on clinching a lucrative deal, the process is no walk in the park, some writers told TODAY.
Mr Loh Guan Liang, a poet who has published three collections of poetry, said such a move comes with its own issues. 
“It’s a bit hard to present yourself because do you present yourself as Asian? But then, Asian is such a broad term,” said the 39-year-old. 
In his case, after deciding how his work should be marketed — as Asian poetry set in Singapore in English — he tried to look for an overseas publisher that would take on such a genre.
Many of the publishers, such as in Australia, US and the United Kingdom “tend to be more inclined towards white writers”, said Mr Loh, who decided to go with local publishers eventually.
Mr Daryl Qilin Yam, co-founder of the literary charity Sing Lit Station and a published author, said he would choose local publishers for his works as much as possible. 
“I am Singaporean, my characters are Singaporean, my stories are Singaporean, and my audiences are also Singaporean. At that moment, I realised quite naturally my publisher also had to be Singaporean,” he said.
Mr Yam has published two novels with Epigram Books and a novella with Math Paper Press. His latest title is a short-story collection Be Your Own Bae, which will be out later this year.
The other alternative to getting one’s work out there is self-publishing, especially in this digital age.
Poet and photographer Marc Nair, who has self-published some of his work, said: “Self-published books are easier in the sense that you don’t need to worry about the whole mechanism of what goes into publishing.”
However, the 42-year-old said that even though you have “full creative control”, there are several things to consider on top of financing the endeavour.
For instance, there isn’t a framework for marketing or publicity. You would also need to find storage space, allocate funds for an editor, and possibly hire a designer for the artwork.
“I think, honestly, an author would always prefer the safety net of a publisher,” said Mr Nair. 
“It also lends the book a certain validity that maybe self-publishing doesn’t necessarily have.”
Local writers described Singapore’s literary scene as “healthy” and “energetic”.
They highlighted the emergence of new writers and the abundance of content being published, pointing to a vibrant and dynamic literary environment.
In response to TODAY’s queries, the Singapore Book Publishers Association said that the launch of the Epigram Books Fiction Prize in 2015 was a “meaningful turning point” that created a substantial increase in the number of novels published here.
“At the same time, more Singaporean authors (based here and overseas) are being published by UK and US publishers, either directly or after growing their career locally,” the association added.
“Still, the bulk of Singaporean authors are published here, and as a key English industry in the region, we also publish authors from around Southeast Asia.”
The association however does not keep records of how many SingLit books are published locally and overseas.
The Epigram Books Fiction Prize was started by Epigram Books and its publisher Edmund Wee “to promote contemporary Singapore creative writing and reward excellence in Singapore literature”, the company says on its website. The winner takes home a S$25,000 cash prize. 
Despite the generally healthy state of the literary scene here, it is not all rosy across the board.
In terms of genre, the poetry scene was hit pretty hard with the loss of Math Paper Press, resulting in a very “large gap” in the scene, said Mr Nair.
Math Paper Press “was a large source” of opportunity for many young writers, he added.
It was an imprint of local bookstore BooksActually, which published mostly poetry titles and helped many young and debut poets get their work published. 
BooksActually became embroiled in a controversy in 2021 after allegations of misconduct and financial mismanagement against its founder, Mr Kenny Leck, came to light. BooksActually announced plans to transition to a community-owned model and continued operating online until its closure in late 2022. 
Mr Ng of Ethos Books explained that the local publishing scene is already small, and any significant development such as the closure of a prominent publisher has “an outsized impact”. 
“Without Math Paper Press, many poets have had to look at other places,” he said. 
Another concern of publishers here is the dwindling number of bookshops here.
Mr Peh Shing Huei, founding partner and publisher of The Nutgraf Books, noted that this trend has adversely affected the literary scene in Singapore.
“Authors and publishers are finding it harder and harder as they have fewer and fewer touchpoints with readers and buyers because there are fewer bookshops,” he said. 
In March this year, bookshop chain Times closed its Plaza Singapura and Waterway Point branches, with its sole remaining store in Cold Storage Jelita along Holland Road.
More people may be turning to libraries to get their books instead of purchasing them, Mr Peh said. 

“Two of my titles had waiting lists of up to one year long in the National Library Board, but people were prepared to wait! So I know people are reading. They just may not be buying,” he said.
Given Singapore’s small market, writers definitely cannot live by royalties alone. The standard royalty rate for a book with a 1,000 copy print run in Singapore is S$950. 
“There’s no real way to get paid to be a writer full time here,” said Mr Pasakorn. 
While writers can apply for funding, such as the Creation Grant under the National Arts Council, there is always uncertainty about when their next paycheck will come. 
“Will I be able to feed myself next month if I really sit down and do a project uninterrupted without having to go back to a day job?” said Mr Pasakorn.
As such, many writers still keep their day jobs.
“We live in Singapore. It’s not like there’s some sort of backwater or countryside where the cost of living is 10 times cheaper, and people live there together in one big kampung,” said Mr Yam. 
“I do like nice things. I like having an iPhone,” he quipped.
Similarly, while Ms Zhao has seen great success with her book deals, she is still holding on to her day job in the technology industry.  
“I think if writing were to become my only source of income, I would feel a lot more tempted to write what I think will be popular and what will sell well, not in writing what I love,” she said. 
Besides royalties, writers may also receive an advance — a sum of money paid to an author upfront when they sign a contract with a publisher. This is usually the arrangement for more established writers and the amount can be a four- or five-figure sum.
However, the industry norm is that one has to “earn out” one’s advance before earning royalties, meaning an author would only receive additional payment once total royalties are higher than a book advance.
The same goes for prize money from writing competitions tied to publication contracts.
For example, if the prize money is S$25,000, the writer would have to sell enough books worth S$25,000 before they can start collecting royalties in book sales. 
Even with substantial prize money, quantifying the creative effort required to write a book can be challenging and simplistic. 
“I wrote Kappa Quartet in a year. I wrote Lovelier, Lonelier in four years. It’s still S$950 in terms of royalties,” said Mr Yam. Additionally, his latest book Be Your Own Bae collects stories that were a decade in the making. 
“How can you compensate for all that time with so little money?… But we do it anyway because we love it.” 
Sharing Mr Yam’s sentiments, writer Mr Myle Yan Tay said: “If I think about the hours I get into this versus the monetary returns, I’m going to go insane.” 
For Mr Yam, “the true success of a book isn’t necessarily measured by its commercial success, but by how it is critically received”. 
He added that how a book influences and shapes the way other people write in the country is perhaps a better way of measuring success. 
Balancing a day job with a full commitment to writing can be challenging, but Mr Kon finds it fulfilling and exactly what he needs.
“I feel it’s an indelible part of who I am. For me, it’s always been a labour of love.”
With the Singapore literary scene generally vibrant despite some challenges, writers whom TODAY spoke to said more could be done to boost SingLit.  
While Mr Nair and the literary community at large are happy for writers who have made it big overseas, he wondered why those same opportunities are not available in Singapore.
“Do local publishers need more support? Is it about the public? Or is our market just too small, and we cannot support writers?” Mr Nair said.
“If we can support creatives, artists and other fields, I don’t see why we can’t support our writers.”
Ms Lee Koe said that there could be more support given to writers in honing their craft, starting with better book advances so that more people can be full-time writers.
She added that the key is to enable more Singaporeans to produce high-quality and engaging works of art.
At Sing Lit Station’s recent call for manuscripts for its annual Manuscript Bootcamp, Mr Yam said the numbers remained healthy, with 16 creative non-fiction scripts submitted.
The creative non-fiction genre is less popular than fiction, so Mr Yam was quite pleased with the turnout.
“In that sense, the literary scene is still very vibrant. It’s still full of people with dreams, with ambition and the energy to match it,” he said.
To that end, Mr Yam believes that Singapore’s literary scene will never be short of good local works.
“The gap lies perhaps in Singapore’s unique problem of having a very adversarial relationship with its own artists,” he said.
Mr Yam noted that Singaporean readers would much rather read books by overseas authors. “They wouldn’t give the time of day to local authors, and I think that’s too sad.
“I think SingLit is so precious, it is the literature of five million people who exist nowhere else on this earth,” Mr Yam added.
To be sure, there have been considerable efforts to encourage readers to pick up a piece of work by local writers.
These include initiatives by the National Library Board (NLB), such as Nodes and Read! Fest, where the public can engage with Singaporean writers through author talks, discussions and hands-on workshops.
Ms Raneetha Rajaratnam, director of Programmes and Services at NLB, said that one of the statutory board’s aims is to make every library a “Singapore Library”, where there are Singapore-related features.
She added that library patrons are expanding their tastes, reading widely across genres and borrowing non-fiction titles related to Singapore food, places, and history.
On its part, the Singapore Book Publishers Association said that it works with publishers to develop their capabilities.
For example, together with the National Arts Council, the association is returning to the Frankfurt Book Fair this year with a contingent of supported publishers to expose them to the international publishing stage.
Last year, comics publisher Difference Engine (another new publisher within the past 10 years) signed a deal there for international distribution.
“Sustaining our own publishing industry is vital and that simply just takes on more forms as the literary ecosystem expands,” said the association. 
“For example, many of our publishers concurrently seek to sell translation rights and find distributors and agents to help them enter foreign markets.”
The association added that locally-published books have also been translated into various languages overseas or been picked up by major English publishers in the UK.
Singapore has also attracted Penguin Random House to set up a regional office in 2018, which has also significantly increased the output of novels being published here.
All said, writers like Mr Kon remain hopeful.
“When you look at what literature has been produced for such a young nation, it’s all very encouraging. These are very intelligent writers sharing intelligent narratives,” he said.
“As a people and as a culture, we always need stories. We desire the creative and the imaginative, that beauty. Our humanity will always have us look to stories. We will always keep creating and telling them.”