5. Ally McBeal (Season 1-3)

Serial TV ini ditayangkan pertama kali pada tahun 1997 dan berhasil mendulang kesuksesan selama 5 tahun masa tayangnya serta mengangkat profil bintang utamanya, Calista Flockhart, dari aktris kelas menengah ke bintang papan atas Hollywood. Tapi bagi saya, masa-masa terbaik Ally McBeal terbungkus dalam tiga tahun pertama penayangannya. Diciptakan oleh David E. Kelley, serial TV ini menceritakan kehidupan seorang pengacara wanita muda bernama Ally McBeal (title character) yang baru saja dipekerjakan oleh sebuah firma hukum eksektris di jantung kota Boston, Cage & Fish, di mana mantan tunangannya ternyata juga bekerja (dan sudah menikah). Dikemas dengan dialog cerdas, drama menggugah, serta komedi menggelitik—Ally McBeal menghadirkan cerita klasik cinta segitiga yang didukung dengan performa segar dari Calista Flockhart.

4. The X-Files (Season 1-6)

Serial TV gagasan Chris Carter circa 1998 ini berhasil menembus pasaran dunia dengan segala pesona cult yang berurusan dengan dunia paranormal. Karakter duo detektif Fox Mulder dan Dana Scully juga dalam waktu singkat mendominasi sampul-sampul majalah ternama seperti Esquire, Rolling Stone, People dan GQ. Selama enam tahun pertama (sebelum plot dan karakterisasinya digerus hingga sangat tipis dan tak berkesan), pemirsa digempur dengan kasus-kasus paranormal yang seram, konyol, juga penuh konspirasi—dan pengembangan hubungan antara Mulder dan Scully juga tak urung mendorong jutaan penggemar serial ini untuk berspekulasi tentang hubungan para pemain di balik layar (David Duchovny dan Gillian Anderson). Walau tergolong sebagai serial ber-genre science fiction, namun The X-Files cukup sukses menarik perhatian para penggemar serial drama percintaan lewat chemistry antara kedua detektif utamanya.

3. Extras (Season 1-2)

Dibesut oleh pakar komedi dan aktor asal Inggris, Ricky Gervais, serial TV yang disiarkan oleh BBC menuai banyak pujian dari para kritik lantaran ide unik yang mendasari penciptaannya serta fresh comedy yang disajikan di dalamnya. Extras ditayangkan pertama kali pada tahun 2006 dan bercerita tentang kegelisahan serta kehidupan para aktor latar (extra) dengan cara lucu dan cerdas. Serial ini bertebaran dengan bintang tamu seperti Kate Winslet, Samuel L. Jackson, Orlando Bloom, Daniel Radcliffe, Patrick Stewart dan Ben Stiller. Komedi yang tetap lucu meski sudah ditonton berulang kali merupakan sebuah karya abadi yang patut diberi acungan jempol.

2. The West Wing (Season 1-4)

Siapa yang berani berhadapan dengan Aaron Sorkin dalam hal penulisan naskah? Dialog yang panjang dan tetap menghadirkan pukulan-pukulan maut secara tata basa merupakan ciri khas dari pencipta dan penulis serial TV The West Wing circa 1999 yang bercerita tentang kehidupan, dilema serta potret mental para pekerja pemerintahan Amerika Serikat di Gedung Putih. The West Wing memenangkan berbagai penghargaan, termasuk di antaranya untuk kategori the best ensemble cast. Di sini, semua pemeran menyumbangkan performa terbaik mereka sehingga menciptakan kesatuan organik antara para tokoh-tokoh di dalam cerita. Mulai dari presiden hingga asisten dan sekertaris. Dengan dosis drama tinggi dan komedi yang subtle, serial ini mengupas isu-isu politik dan sosial di AS. The West Wing adalah sumber inspirasi yang selalu menghadirkan proses pembelajaran baru. Sayangnya, serial ini mulai hilang pamornya sejak Aaron Sorkin meninggalkannya di Season 5.

1. Six Feet Under (ALL SEASONS)

Penulis yang menerima penghargaan bergengsi Piala Oscar di tahun 2000 untuk karyanya yang bertajuk American Beauty (arahan Sam Mendes), Allan Ball menciptakan Six Feet Under berdasarkan premis yang diberikan oleh salah seorang eksekutif di cable network ternama, HBO. “Apa yang bisa kita lakukan dengan bisnis keluarga yang berkecimpung dalam dunia pemakaman?” tanya eksekutif tersebut. Allan Ball yang terkenal sebagai seorang dramatis dengan edge sedikit gelap menyambut ide tersebut dan menggubahnya menjadi salah satu serial televisi yang paling dirayakan kesuksesannya di saluran TV kabel, Six Feet Under. Mengisahkan sebuah keluarga berdomisili di Los Angeles yang baru saja ditinggal oleh sang ayah/suami, serial ini mengangkat topik-topik kehidupan yang begitu dekat dengan kesadaran kita dengan cara yang sangat dramatik. Setiap karakter yang menghidupi Six Feet Under sangat berkesan; dan ketika episode terakhir dari serial ini ditayangkan di HBO pada tahun 2005—tak sedikit penggemar yang menitikkan airmata seolah tengah berpamitan dengan orang-orang yang mereka sayangi. Dari premis yang sederhana, Allan Ball berhasil menghidupkan sebuah dunia baru yang tak pernah sekali pun membuat penonton bosan atau kecewa selama lima tahun masa tayangnya, dan justru memberikan sebuah pencerahan hidup. Now that’s drama for you!

Hak Cipta 2012. Maggie Tiojakin.

Maggie Tiojakin

Ketika film besutan sutradara Christopher Nolan, Inception, dirilis di teater pada tahun 2010—para penggemar science fiction langsung berlomba-lomba menginterpretasi pesan yang kira-kira tertanam dalam film tersebut. Apalagi ditambah dengan ending yang tidak pasti, sehingga membuat para penyimaknya bertanya-tanya apakah si protagonis akhirnya kembali kepada anak-anaknya atau masih tenggelam dalam mimpi. Mengingat teori yang sudah beredar baik itu di media cetak maupun di dunia maya, tidak perlu rasanya bagi saya untuk mengulang kembali sensasi yang menyelimuti film tersebut ataupun menjelaskan secara detail perihal plot film yang berlapis-lapis. Meski begitu, saya tetap ingin membahas Inception dalam kaitannya dengan proses kreatif.

Belum lama ini saya kembali menonton Inception untuk yang ke-lima kalinya. Saya memang punya kecenderungan menonton ulang film-film yang bagi saya bisa dikupas berkali-kali. Film lain yang pernah saya tonton lebih dari tiga kali adalah A Few Good Men, Boys Don’t Cry, The Abyss, Back to the Future, Groundhog Day, Notes of A Scandal, The Truman Show dan Garden State. Masih panjang sebenarnya daftar film-film yang saya tonton berulang kali—tapi tidak mungkin saya sebutkan satu-satu di sini. Sebagian orang-orang terdekat saya selalu mengkritik kebiasaan saya mengulang tontonan dengan pertanyaan, “Kok nggak bosen sih?”

Dan saya akan berusaha menjawab pertanyaan tersebut dalam esai ini, kalau memungkinkan. Adasatu serial televisi yang saya tonton berulang kali dari Season 1 sampai Season 4, yaitu The West Wing. Dialognya membuat saya kecanduan. Akting ensemble yang natural juga selalu membuat saya terkagum-kagum. Tapi mari kita bahas hal ini di lain hari. Sekarang kita kembali ke Inception.

Dalam beberapa wawancara, Christopher Nolan mengatakan bahwa dalam film Inception ia berusaha untuk mengedepankan sebuah ide di mana “mimpi bisa dimanipulasi dan diatur secara sadar.” Jika kita menelaah plot film, petikan tersebut dapat dikembangkan menjadi teori psikosis yang rumit. Namun dari segi proses kreatif, petikan tersebut bisa dikristalisasikan sebagai esensi dari teknik bercerita.

Bagi seorang penulis, bercerita adalah skill utama yang bisa dipelajari namun tidak bisa  diakali dengan kepura-puraan. Dan dunia yang dia ciptakan dalam karya-karyanya merupakan ‘mimpi yang telah dimanipulasi dan diatur secara sadar.’ Dibandingkan dengan pekerja seni (artist) lainnya, beban penulis dalam proses penciptaan dunia yang utuh untuk kemudian ditempati oleh para pembaca bisa dibilang yang paling berat. Ini dikarenakan sensori yang digunakan pembaca untuk menikmati sebuah karya tulis jauh lebih kompleks (dan beragam) bila dibandingkan dengan sensori yang digunakan pendengar musik untuk menikmati musik atau penikmat lukisan untuk mengapresiasi lukisan.

Saya selalu mengatakan bahwa pengalaman membaca adalah pengalaman personal yang tidak bisa di-share bersama orang lain, sama seperti menulis. Sensasi yang dialami  pembaca saat menikmati sebuah bacaan adalah hal yang sifatnya sakral, unik dan magis. Ini artinya bila 1000 orang membaca satu buku yang sama, maka sensasi yang dihadirkan berjumlah sama banyak (1000). Sensasi tidak hanya berarti emosi; tapi juga proses rekoleksi. Bagaimana seseorang memproses karya tulis, menyaring pesan, mengolah emosi dengan kapasitas rekoleksi hingga menghasilkan empati yang berpotensi mengubah visi terhadap hidup dan dunia adalah sensasi yang dihasilkan oleh bahan bacaan. Berbeda dengan film, di mana penonton dibombardir dengan segala macam efek visual dan pendengaran hingga pesan yang terimplikasi di dalam cerita tak jarang hilang atau tercecer. Atau lukisan, di mana pengamat diminta untuk mengasosiasikan emosi dengan warna, goresan, serta teknik menggambar. Atau musik, di mana pendengar harus mencerna nada demi nada demi komposisi. Tulisan adalah bentuk komunikasi seni yang lugas dengan kemungkinan yang tak berbatas. Dan, lewat tulisan, kita dapat memicu semua fungsi indera manusia yang lumrahnya berkoresponden dengan hal-hal di luar tulisan. Kita bisa menghadirkan musik, membuat pembaca merasakan hangatnya api di perapian, atau mengalami serunya bermain ski—dan lain-lain—lewat proses rekoleksi dan pemberian informasi.

Lapisan dunia yang dibentuk oleh Christopher Nolan dalam Inception sedikit-banyak menyinggung proses kreatif seseorang dalam menciptakan suatu karya nyata. Karya nyata adalah karya yang sanggup berdiri sendiri tanpa harus ditopang oleh penjelasan si empunya karya; serta karya yang memiliki ‘nafas’-nya sendiri di mana si pencipta pun merasa terbantukan oleh hadirnya ‘true inspiration’ atau yang disebut-sebut dalam film sebagai “original idea”.

Begitu film tersebut diputar di pasaran, para penikmatnya lantas mulai mencari tahu lebih dalam lagi tentang arti sebuah mimpi dan berusaha menginterpretasi pesan apa saja yang tertanam dalam Inception. Si penulis (yang juga merangkap sutradara) sampai kewalahan menjawab ribuan pertanyaan yang diarahkan kepadanya perihal ending film.

“Dalam karier saya sebagai seorang filmmaker, baru kali ini saya ditanya berulang kali tentang hal yang sama hingga saya tidak tahu lagi harus menjawab apa,” kata Christopher Nolan di salah satu wawancara media. “Anehnya lagi, orang sangat berharap agar saya menjawab pertanyaan tersebut.”

Banyak yang berasumsi Christopher Nolan enggan menjawab pertanyaan tersebut karena takut mengurangi nilai enigmatik dari ending film-nya. Tapi saya membaca jawabannya dari sudut yang berbeda. Christopher Nolan tidak berusaha mengelabui penikmat filmnya, ataupun menutup-nutupi apa yang dia tahu. Menurut saya, dia tidak punya jawaban untuk pertanyaan tersebut karena dia sendiri tidak tahu apa implikasi dari ending film Inception di mana totem milik Dominic Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) terus berputar.

“Menurut saya itu ending yang tepat,” kata Christopher Nolan dalam wawancara yang sama. “Saya sengaja memberikan ending yang ambigu karena rasanya seperti  ‘tendangan’ jitu bagi saya…Tujuan dari adegan itu adalah untuk menunjukkan bahwa Dominic tidak lagi perduli apakah dia ada dalam mimpi atau sudah benar kembali ke dunia nyata. Yang dia perdulikan hanya anak-anaknya. Itu sebenarnya emosi yang ingin saya hadirkan dalam adegan tersebut.”

Setelah menonton film ini lima kali, saya juga sudah berhenti bertanya-tanya apakah Dominic berhasil kembali ke anak-anaknya di dunia nyata atau tidak. Pertama, karena menurut saya usaha yang dicurahkan para penikmat film untuk memecahkan teka-teki ini takkan berbuah apa-apa karena si pembuat film memang tidak pernah bertujuan untuk memecahkannya. Kedua, rasanya tidak begitu penting bagi saya untuk tahu akhir dari perjalanan Dominic karena selama manusia masih hidup, kenyataan dan mimpi akan selalu tumpang-tindih. Ketiga, kenapa harus memberikan batasan pada sebuah karya yang pada dasarnya tanpa batas?

Bagi para pekerja seni, saya rasa tidak ada bentuk apresiasi yang lebih tinggi terhadap kreativitas mereka daripada dialog yang mengikuti karya tersebut. Apapun mediumnya, bagi saya karya seni yang berhasil adalah karya yang membuat penikmatnya resah—dan terdorong untuk keluar dari zona nyaman mereka. Itu juga salah satu ‘lapisan pesan’ yang saya terima dari Inception, baik itu dari segi kreasi si penulis/sutradara maupun dari isi cerita.

“Dalam Inception, saya ingin mengeksplorasi sebuah ide di mana beberapa orang bisa saling berbagi mimpi yang sama,” ujar Christopher Nolan. “Bila kita punya kemampuan untuk memasuki alam bawah sadar orang lain—bagaimana kita akan menarik batasan-batasan moral/sosial?”

Sebagian besar dari film Inception, terlepas dari teori teknis yang menyeret-nyeret alur cerita, terdiri dari pertanyaan. Hal inilah yang akhirnya memicu dialog antar para penikmat film serta peneliti mimpi. Bahkan ending film pun ditutup dengan pertanyaan.

Di pihak lain, sejauh ini, hampir 90 persen dari karya kreatif yang saya temukan di dalam negeri—terutama buku—tampak terlampau sibuk menyodorkan jawaban. Penulis seolah merangkap sebagai motivator, psikiater, penasihat spiritual dan peramal. Baru baca satu, dua halaman saya langsung merasa lelah dikuliahi. Karena itu saya pernah bilang bahwa penulisIndonesiacenderung masih mencari aman. Konflik yang dihadirkan juga cenderung terbungkus oleh klise dengan perdebatan yang didasarkan pada metode “baik versus jahat” atau “hitam versus putih”.

Namun saya masih bisa tersenyum karena tidak sedikit penulis diIndonesiayang menunjukkan kepiawaian dalam bercerita dan tak kalah menarik karyanya dibandingkan dengan para penulis luar. Winna Efendi, salah satunya; lalu ada juga Agustinus Wibowo; Eka Kurniawan; Ratih Kumala; dan Agus Noor. Masih banyak lainnya. Dalam kapasitas mereka masing-masing, penulis-penulis yang saya sebutkan berhasil mendobrak batas kesusastraan lokal dengan terus menghasilkan karya-karya yang melontarkan pertanyaan mendasar dalam diri pembaca. Mengangkat tema cinta, perjalanan, sejarah, keluarga dan politik—mereka berhasil mengupas isu-isu kemanusiaan yang sifatnya universal.

Mungkin itu juga yang membuat karya progresif Christopher Nolan jadi bahan perbicangan banyak orang. Terlepas dari plot-nya yang rumit serta special effect yang mencengangkan—pada akhirnya Inception melempar pertanyaan universal tentang mimpi-mimpi yang terus mengikuti perguliran hidup manusia. Ilusi dan realita adalah dua mimpi yang dipisahkan oleh garis tipis psikosis. Begitu juga dengan cerita dan proses kreatif. Penulis legendaris seperti Haruki Murakami, Jose Saramago, Ernest Hemingway, Charles Dickens, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Alice Munro, Joyce Carol Oates, Salman Rushdie dan—ya—J.K. Rowling (dan masih banyak lagi) dalam kapasitas mereka masing-masing telah berhasil memicu sekian banyak dialog di antara para pembaca dan kritikus yang berlomba mencari ‘benang merah’ di tengah himpunan kata dan susunan alinea.

“Otak kita tidak bisa membedakan antara realita dan ilusi,” ujar Dominic pada Ariadne di salah satu adegan paling memukau dalam film Inception. “Bahkan saat kita tertidur, otak kita terus bekerja untuk menciptakan realita baru—ini titik masuk kita.”

Menulis adalah pekerjaan yang didominasi oleh kesendirian; dan memang seharusnya begitu. Untuk mencapai relung paling dasar dalam diri manusia serta mencari untaian benang merah yang tersulam disanadan mengolahnya menjadi sebuah karya nyata, perjalanan yang dilalui penulis harus dilakukan seorang diri. Bukan karena takut idenya dicuri, bukan; namun karena metamorfosis sebuah ide adalah hal yang personal—sama seperti sensasi pembaca saat meresapi ide tersebut dan mengolahnya menjadi sebuah pengalaman nyata. Oleh sebab itu juga, karya yang berani, yang dengan lantang melemparkan pertanyaan demi pertanyaan tentang kondisi kemanusaan kita, adalah karya-karya yang paling sering dinikmati berulang kali. Karena karya semacam itu akan selalu memperkaya dirinya sendiri seiring dengan waktu yang berlalu dan alur perguliran realita dalam hidup penikmatnya.

Saya yakin, tidak lama lagi saya akan kembali duduk di depan layar televisi saya sambil menyetel DVD Inception karya Christopher Nolan. Kalau kalian belum menontonnya, saya sarankan untuk segera meminjamnya dari teman, kenalan, klien atau toko sewa video terdekat. Atau beli DVD aslinya yang dilengkapi dengan special features menarik.

Selamat menonton!

Winter Dreams is my first published novel. When someone asks me what it is about, I have to think a minute, and then another minute, just to try to sum up the things that make the novel. And the best I can tell you is it is about coming to terms with adulthood. The story in the novel spans about six years, between 1998 and 2003—and it talks about relationships, mostly. I believe that a person’s life is colored by relationships more than goals or prized possessions. We can be anywhere in the world and dealing with a number of things to do with money and technology or places, but what these things ultimately come down to are relationships—between man and each other, man and his universe, man and his dreams, man and his home, et cetera. There are “five books” in Winter Dreams, where each represents a stage in the protagonist’s life; and I chose this particular approach because I feel, as it is in my own life, the events that make up my dreams are just as important as those that break my hopes. And when you put these things together, you end up with something that closely resembles life, where everything has its moments and nothing really lasts forever. Because life is about moving on—and I suppose that’s what Winter Dreams is about, as well.

The Process

I had been wanting to write this novel since 2004, when I was still living in Boston. I remember sitting in my friend’s car on our way to Providence, Rhode Island, and looking at the road ahead which seemed—at the time—endless and full of possibilities, and saying to her how I thought I was ready to start “the book”. It felt genuine at the time and my desire to complete what I thought would be the “ultimate work” was quite strong—so I knew I was on the right track and thus I began to tell some people about it. I even came up with a title for it, My America, My Dementia. But what I didn’t realize was that it would take me ten thousand miles away from America to be able to write about it and about fifty-plus drafts of failed first chapters in the next seven years before I came to know the characters that eventually breathe life into Winter Dreams.

The Protagonist

The first fifty-plus drafts involved a mix of protagonists who, for obvious reasons, never quite stuck with me or the story. I didn’t know what they want or who they are or where they are going. Then, one night, I sat down in front of my computer and thought of various names I thought might work for the story. By this time, I was no longer sure I wanted to call the work My America, My Dementia. Plus, I thought any story would do so long as it got me to write something good. I had given up on “the book” and I certainly didn’t think I was capable of creating the “ultimate work”. So I set out to write a simple story and I thought it would be nice to start with one name. That was when it occurred to me: Nicky F. Rompa. He is everything I am; and yet he is nothing like me. We’re alike in some ways and different in other ways. We would probably be good friends if he weren’t fictional, but I doubt we’d be the kind of friends who could call each other up at  3 am and not feel slightly weirded out by it. He is young and complicated and doesn’t know what he wants until he knows it—and he probably represents most people in their early 20s.

The Setting

The novel starts out in Jakarta and, as it progresses, moves to Boston. Like Nicky, I arrived in Boston in 2000 in the middle of a snowy spring. I think I fell in love with the city as soon as I got out of the airport. I don’t know every inch of the city the way some people do, but some parts of the city are so familiar to me that I feel they are imprinted onto my identity. Some would say that the best part about being in a new place is getting to know new people; and I agree. But I would also argue that the best part about being in a new place is getting to know a new place. The six years I spent in Boston are made beautiful by the people, yes; nevertheless, there were inexplicable moments in my life there which I could only share with the air, the buildings, the water, and the ground beneath my feet. To say that a place is meaningless without the population would render  the body meaningless without the soul; and to a certain extent it is true, but as love goes we often identify with a person by the hand that we hold, the lips that we kiss and the smell of their body. Someone said to me once that there are only three people in her life whose scents she knows by heart—and that’s probably the most profound love confession I have ever heard. Thus, in a way, these things, the physical things of our universe, of our existence, whether or not they are to last beyond decay, are the things we most cherish. And so I wanted to have a setting that serves as a character in the story. And I wanted it to sound as though I were writing it a love letter. I wanted each corner of the city to be as familiar to me as it would be to the readers. I hope I have done it justice.

The Writing

Despite the difficult start over a period of seven years, once I got to know Nicky in the first chapter of the story—I could not stop. The writing took about three months. Seven days a week. Twelve to fourteen hours a day. This is not to say I worked hard, all I did was “show up” and “listen”—this is to say I could not wait to get it done. I was curious how it would end. I was a spectator more than a creator. It was as though the protagonist was telling me his story and my job was to document it. So I did. Some of the relationships portrayed in this book are very similar to the ones in my own life, but in many ways they are also different from my own experiences. During the writing, I felt as though I was transported into a different universe. I could not be involved in the daily comings and goings of the real world as I had to focus on the world I had created for Nicky. And for three months, I was stuck in a dream I wasn’t sure I wanted to escape. And if my body didn’t need sleep, I would have been more than happy to give that up too. Needless to say, those were the most grueling three months I had ever experienced as a writer. I lived and breathed through a fictional character; and as he embraced life and all of its complexities, I was drawn to do the same. When I wrote the final scene in the final chapter, I didn’t realize I had come to the part where I had to say goodbye to Nicky and the city I had carefully constructed from memory. Naturally, I burst into tears. As the final words were set on to the page, I broke down both from exhaustion and loss. It was the best thing I had written in all of my life at this point. I don’t know if it is possible for a writer to grow along with his or her own writing—but in writing Winter Dreams I felt I had grown in ways that only an experience of this magnitude could compel. I am forever thankful for it.

The Influences

Over the course of my writing career, if I could be so bold to call it that, I have been influenced by mostly writers of short stories, such as Jhumpa Lahiri, Alice Munro, Raymond Carver, Anton Chekhov, Andre Dubus and Michael Byers. Each writer influences me in different ways, but they all teach me the same thing—and that is to write as honestly as possible. In writing Winter Dreams, I try to be honest every step of the way. And what that means is I refrain from manipulating the readers. I wanted each experience to be something real and every emotion as unprocessed as possible. This is probably the first time I ever try to write a story where the readers have as much role in the process of completing the journey as I do in creating it. I meet the readers halfway because I trust them to do so. I believe most of my readers are more sophisticated than I am—so I decided not to cheat them with cheap tricks or easy paradigm. Life is complicated, and why can’t it be as complicated in a story? This, of course, I learned from Ernest Hemingway. His writing taught me to trust my characters, to trust my readers and to trust the story I wanted to tell. And that was what I did.

The Title

As I had mentioned before, the earliest title for the book was My America, My Dementia. When I finished the book, I wanted to call it Separuh Ilusi, or Part Illusion. But the editor and I decided that neither of these titles had enough weight to represent the story. So we searched for other ideas, one of them being Winter Dreams. Some people liked it, some didn’t. Nevertheless, I think it fits with the whole theme of the book. Because sometimes being in our early 20s is a lot like getting stuck in a snowstorm. People fantasize about winter as much as they do about their youth—and the thing about winter is it never really goes away, and rather than ‘arriving’ it would just blast you with snow and below zero temperatures. Again, a lot like being in our early 20s.

The Cover

I wish the cover had come with a specific title, because it just takes my breath away. Staven Andersen, a brilliant illustrator who, despite the name, is actually an Indonesian, has done an amazing work that endears him to me for life. In the process of creating the cover for Winter Dreams we had gone through perhaps over a dozen drafts and themes and ultimately went for the one with the bird on top of the building in the middle of an afternoon in winter because of the feel and philosophy behind it. Working with Staven has always been a major high for me because he thinks like a sentient being that constantly absorbs life and turns it into visual poetry almost by magic. We worked on this cover for four months, going back and forth and back again—until we both felt good about it. And the editor liked it. And that was that.

The Editing

My editor at Gramedia Pustaka Utama is Mirna Yulistianti. Like all writers, I too am indebted to my editor—whose support and friendship I value most immensely. Another editor at Gramedia Pustaka Utama to whom I am also indebted is Hetih Rusli. She was the first person I came to early in 2011 when I was about to embark on what I thought would be another doomed attempt at writing the first chapter of “the book”. She was the one who told me to focus on the character. In a way, she helped me discover Nicky. And for that—no amount of thanks will ever be enough.

Thanksgiving Day

The editor and I agreed to push the publication date of Winter Dreams, which had previously been set for September 2011, to November 24 2011 because we wanted the book to be “ripe” enough when it hits the printer. We are thankful for the time we had taken because the two months between September and November were spent largely on revising some scenes and perfecting the cover. And it is set on Thanksgiving Day for reasons you will find in the book.

The Readers

You have an important role in the story. It is as much mine as it is yours. I hope you like it. Thank you for reading it.

Maggie Tiojakin – November, 2011.

The ‘American Dream’ is a concept that has captured the world in a way comparable only to the popularization of its ideals: freedom, prosperity, and success. That all men are born equal with the undeniable rights to Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness is probably the most quoted part of the US Declaration of Independence which every liberal on the continent treats with as much sanctity as a priest would a quote in a religious text. And they are right to do so, because like it or not: the idea that we’re equal to each other despite our race, gender, religion, customs, age, status, and what have you; or that we are all born with the right to live, to be free and happy is incredibly moving and hopeful.

As a teenager, I never asked too many questions and was quite content with the idea of America that came to me via American TV shows in the late 1980s and early 1990s (i.e. MacGyver, Airwolf, Saved by the Bell, Knight Rider, Jack and the Fatman, Hawaii Five-O, Melrose Place, Beverly Hills 90210, Remington Steel, Moonlighting, Baywatch, Murphy Brown, Party of Five, et cetera). I didn’t even care about the ‘reality gap’: how ridiculous it was (when I think about it now) that Richard Dean Anderson had everything he needed at the time and place he needed them to construct bombs, diffuse detonators or stop a bullet train from crashing into a ton of brick; and how strange that the man who used to drive a talking car and wear dark-colored jackets suddenly went bare-chested all the time in a show populated by trunks, boobs, and confused men who ran around chasing them from one screenshot to the next. I could not be bothered with these things. The way I looked at it—how wonderful it was to live in a place like that!

Growing up, I did not have any of the privileges that the teen characters in Saved by the Bell or Beverly Hills 90210 took for granted. And I’m not talking about the kind of privileges that come with wealth; but rather simple privileges like having my own locker or being asked what particular school subjects I was interested in. Or parents who would allow me to question the world rather than tell me to accept it for what it was. Or teachers who could act as confidantes rather than mere figures of authority. So I spent most of my teenage years looking up to these fictional characters whose lives I envied oh-so-much. Years later, after 15 months of being a freshman at a university, I made the bold decision to set myself on a voyage that would take six years to complete. I quit school and left for America.

I was 19.

At the time, a couple of my distant relatives had been living in Chicago; but I was never in contact with them before and I wasn’t about to make contact just because I suddenly found myself in a foreign country, alone. I decided to experience everything on my own. I enrolled myself into an international language school in Boston, MA and opted to live with a host family rather than share a room at the dormitory. The 22-hour flight I had to endure between Jakarta-Singapore-St. Louis-Detroit-Boston was excruciating only because I easily lost track of time. Though as soon as I stepped off the plane at Logan Airport, I knew I was in for an adventure.

Fortunately, for me, though it did come as a surprise, America was everything I had expected it to be (and more). To the bewilderment of my host family, I experienced little—if any—culture shock during my first year there. I knew exactly what to do at a birthday party when they blind-folded me and handed me a wooden stick and told me to keep swinging until I heard lollipops fall out onto the ground; and I didn’t feel the least bit awkward when my host family asked me (and my roommate) to be on candy-duty for Halloween. In my spare time I would go to the local public library and use one of the computers to send emails to friends and family back home. I would stop by CVS and buy a small package of Tootsie Rolls whenever I had a craving for sweets. In the summer, I would sit on a bench in the middle of the Commons and dream up plans for the future. I would close my eyes and breathe in everything until my chest swelled and I thought I was going to explode from excitement. It felt right to be there. It felt right just to be. And then I got an internsip that would mark one of the most important moments in my life. It was in the offices of a literary magazine in Boston’s North End that I decided to become a writer. I didn’t know exactly how I was going to do it—but I was absolutely certain of what I wanted my life to be.

So as soon as I finished with the language program, I went back to school while also working part time to support myself. In the five years that followed, I learned that it was possible to dream the impossible and that it was okay to listen to what your heart had to say. I learned that humanity was better than religion and that faith had little to do with religious denominations. I learned that education did not belong only to formal schools and that responsibility started with the self. I learned that I was in charge of my life and that I shouldn’t let anyone convince me otherwise. Best of all, I learned that it’s never too late to change your plans—and that life is short, thus it would be wise to make the most of it.

In my sixth year of living in the US I found myself searching for a cause. By that time, I had had my heart broken and patched several times over and I was freelancing for several publications both in the Greater Boston area and back home in Jakarta. I was twenty-five and anxious for something far more fulfilling than the life I had been living for six years. I wasn’t laughing enough. My life was dictated by my daily planner and the only time I felt I could breathe was when I rode the subway on my way to and from work. Life was work. There was little time for anything else. Yet, somehow, in the American spirit of always moving forward, of always aiming for success—I had lost myself. I was on the fast track toward a place I didn’t know and I wanted it to stop for just a moment so I could think.

In October 2005, I got on a plane and left for home.

Nearly six years later, when I am prompted to tell the story of the years I had spent in the US, either while dining with friends or sharing with family, most people still think I threw away the best thing I had going for me. I should have stayed in the US and braved through the challenges, they said. I should have made a life and married an American and had American children and lived an American life. I should not have come home and be the ordinary person that everyone in Indonesia is ultimately reduced to. And while there’s nothing wrong with being ordinary, it would have been better to be extraordinary.

For a majority of Indonesians I know, returning from the US is a lot like deserting a winning war. Whatever the reason, it means you have failed at making something for yourself.

And the thing I have always wanted to say to them is there’s nothing extra- about living in America that surpasses the ordinary of being in Indonesia. I had some of the best times of my life in the US, it’s true; and I learned things I probably could not have learned if I had not left my home country, it’s also true. But I was young and ambitious and curious and I wouldn’t take no for an answer and what I did was very selfish and foolish and I should have known better. More than that, I was lucky to have met the right people. I was lucky to have received the opportunities I was given. I was lucky to never have had an unpleasant experience during my stay abroad. And I was lucky to have had the option to leave when I felt it was time.

Most Indonesians I had known in the US have now returned home and made a life for themselves. Not all of them get to be told they wasted away a great opportunity to live abroad by coming back home, but most of them do. And most of them feel this way at one point or another. I do, too. I wonder if it was true that I had thrown away the best thing I had going for me. I often wonder what my life would have been like if I had stayed and, as they said, braved through the challenges. Then it comes to me: a revelation so powerful in nature that I realize it has taken me eleven years and a voyage across the world to really understand.

The American dream has never been about living and working and being in America (though the idea helps put the dream into shape). The American dream is about life: living it to the fullest by developing your potentials and going for the impossible even when everyone else tells you not to and giving it a kind of meaning. The American dream is about liberty: to make your own choices and create opportunities where there are none to be had and understand that there are such things as responsibilities and consequences. Finally, the American dream is about the pursuit of happiness: everybody deserves another chance at making things work—because we’re not perfect and we make mistakes and that doesn’t mean we’re not worthy of a shot at being happy.

Since I came home I have written for some of the most interesting magazines (for me) in the country. I have published two short story collections, novelized a feature film and translated books that have significant meanings to me. I have also written a feature film that’s coming out in a couple of months—with hopes of writing more. And I am currently working on a novel. By no means is my life perfect and I’m not extraordinarily happy, either: but I’m writing and reading and meeting people and spending time with friends and family and I’m having a wonderful time. Besides, happiness is all about living in the moment. Isn’t it?

“Some people have to return to where they started,” said a friend, who is also one of the most celebrated book editors in Indonesia. “They have to come full circle so  they can make sense of their journey.”

There are only a few places in the world that exude the aura of possibility, of dreams coming together and inserting themselves into reality: and America is one of them. America has shaped me into the person I am today and I am forever grateful for it. Indonesia, on the other hand, is still trying to figure some things out as it wobbles through some of its decisions. And I’m glad to be here. We may not aim for the stars; and rather for far simpler things like peace and tolerance. But we’re working on it and (hopefully) getting better at it—and, for now, let that be our dream.

My first real brush with death came when I was 23, and it was my father’s. He died from a stroke. I never got to say goodbye and to this day I can’t stop thinking what I would have said if I did get the chance to say goodbye. Would I say, farewell, be well? Would I beg him to stay? I still don’t know. Perhaps something along those lines. But what I didn’t take into account was what would he have said were he given the chance to say goodbye? And this question somehow resonates more to me than any other question I’ve ever pondered when it comes to death.

Life and death are the yin and yang of this natural world, and they will remain so for as long as we’re here, living in the in-between. And the general take on them is that life is good, and death is bad. However, both are inescapable. One cannot exist without the other. Science can’t overcome death; and neither can religion. So the question is how do we cope with it? How do we cope with our own death?

As I got older, I have come to the realization that no matter how dreary, or difficult, life is addictive. The things we thought we’d never survive, time proves that we do … again and again. Through wars and illnesses, disasters and heartaches, we’ve managed to continue existing. Even in the absence of hope, we do not succumb to oblivion. And as much as we like to philosophize our lives, we have to admit that yes, we do fear death. We do want to continue living. And this is what’s inherent in all of us. The will to live is too strong. We rarely walk toward death; death usually has to come and get us.

I don’t know. I, uh, haven’t quite thought this through. It’s just that I’ve seen these movies, heard these stories, and read these issues about how people are coping with the dying. And a part of me keeps asking what of those who are coping with death itself?

Maybe you can tell me what you think. Leave a comment. What would you say, or do, without being overly righteous or politically correct, if you knew that the next time you close your eyes, you won’t be able to open them again? That last day on your deathbed. That last hour. What would cross your mind?

As for me, when I think of it, I’d probably be consumed with grief and anger. Mostly, anger – for the obvious reasons.

Tell me your thoughts.

My second collection is about to turn a month old this coming week; but if I have learned anything about book publishing (both as a self-published and published author) it’s that you need to BELIEVE in your work. The rest is … well, marketing.

Below are 10 steps which I have discovered to be crucial in the event of promoting or marketing your book after it’s published. And these steps apply to those of you who are both published by other houses or your own.

1. Get A Publicist – if no one is assigned to you, then you need to go get one. A publicist can be your best friend, your sister, your brother, your mother, your father, your cousin, your nextdoor neighbor, or someone you hire professionally. What they do is put things in perspective for you. This is your go-to person. Someone who can represent you, your book, and everything in between.
2. Prepare A Press Kit – this usually comes in the form of a folder/envelope that contains one-pager of everything: bio, q+a list, synopsis, early reviews, and whatever you want the press to get a whiff of. Be creative.
3. Create A Website – the first thing readers usually do after reading a particular book is find out more about the author. In the old days, authors like to hide in remote places away from their readers. Today, this is the equivalent of career suicide. Unless, you’re one of the brilliant ones who can write a recipe of your grandmother’s favorite meal and still sell it for millions of copies. So, put yourself out there. Let readers reach out to you. Be sure to thank them for their patronage.
4. Plan A Launching – if your publisher is kind enough to set up a book launching for you, you still have to get involved in the planning. You need to at least approve of the following: venue, seating, number of guests, and (if it’s an option) F&B menu.
5. List Your Media – together with your publicist come up with a list of media people who may be interested in generating the buzz for you and your book. Your publisher will probably have their own list; but it’s always good to have a back-up list that you have access to.
6. Direct Communication – writers are great communicators … on paper. This isn’t the time to sit and observe; you need to raise your voice and get things done. Communicate with the people who are helping you market the book, and do it often. Confirm and reconfirm on the important details.
7. Don’t Be Extravagant – if you’re a new author, go for the simplest, most effective, and less costly option to market your book. If you’re a self-published author, you wouldn’t want to lose money before you make money; and if someone is publishing your book, they would prefer to stay on the safe side of things. So: simple, effective, less costly. Elegance isn’t always expensive. Again, be creative.
8. Be Social – this isn’t the time for you to sit at your desk. Once your book is published, you have to get the word out and, you know, mingle. Whether it’s through Facebook, Twitter, or at a friend’s party … get the word out without being obnoxious about it. Introduce yourself, shake hands with people, tell them your latest achievement, and be proud about it. Your book is only as good as you think it is.
9. Sum Up Your Work – people will ask you what your book is about and what you wish to get out of it. Prepare your answer. Memorize it. Stay consistent. It’s important for an author to build his or her credibility in order for the book to have its own credibility.
10. Get Help – don’t be shy about it. Marketing a book isn’t an easy job. Even if your publisher is sending out a troop to do the job; you still have to do some legwork of your own. So get your friends and family to help you out. Trust me, they’ll be more than happy to help. All you have to do is ask.

Now, Have FUN. This is the experience of a lifetime. Try to have fun. You can afford a laugh, a smile, a hug, a certain kind of pride. I wish you a best-selling career!

I’m late. I’m always late. But here’s my Dirty Dozen list.

For as long as I can remember my life has been largely moved and inspired by books, films, and music. So far, it has also been rather impossible for me to narrow down a specific list of such books, films, and music which I consider to be the most influential in my life. But in light of this blogfest, I will try to narrow down a dozen of the ultimate films I can never get enough of, and which I have watched—religiously—for more than five times. They are:

• BIG – I saw this movie for the first time when I was in my early teens, and I remember sharing Tom Hanks’ character’s curiosity towards what adult life is all about. I also remember thinking how cool it was to be able to taste adulthood, its perks and fanciful dreams, only to be convinced, at the end of the film, that everything has its own time and pace – and no matter how much you want something, you have to wait until you are ready for it. Since then, I’ve been watching this film at least once a year. And every time I see it, the sentiment changes, because I grow older, and so I share different parts of the film than I had, let’s say, when I was twelve. However, each time it enlightens.
• THE PAPER – Among many other things, when I was younger I had a dream of becoming a journalist. This film, in a funtastic way, confirmed that dream. So I became a journalist, even though as I got older my preference is to first become a writer, then a journalist. Now I am a little bit of both: and looking back at the dream I used to have through this film is somewhat of an irony. Nevertheless, rest assured, Ron Howard’s ambitious take on the business of running a newspaper plays a significant role in the shaping of my current career.
• BOYS DON’T CRY – I first fell in love with the true crime novel by Aphrodite Jones, titled “All She Wanted”; not in the way I have fallen in love with books of literary merit, but in the way that I sympathize with the characters in the book, and the unfortunate way that their lives unraveled. It is the first and only crime novel I have ever read. It’s so powerful that when the movie came out, I had to see it. And it just got even more powerful. It taught me that people, regardless of their sexual preference, are people nonetheless. And humanity shouldn’t come with conditional precursors.
• A FEW GOOD MEN – This is the first work of Aaron Sorkin that gave me an inkling of how talented he is (which led to my obsession with West Wing). More than anything, this film taught me the many different ways a writer can change its audience’s life by creating thought-provoking dialogue and challenging issues.
• BACK TO THE FUTURE – Though I love the trilogy, I can never have enough of the second installment. It’s the future! I am a sucker for time-traveling fiction…and this one definitely takes the cake.
• NOTES ON A SCANDAL – Patrick Marber is a crazy playwright with an acute ear and brilliant sense of pace for honest, raw, and explosive dialogue heavily ridden with true emotions. I think that says enough about why I love this film so much.
• THE GOOD GIRL – I grew up watching Friends and many other popular series of the same quality and genre. Like many other girls, I fell in love with Rachel’s quirky attitude. More than any other actress in the history of popular sitcoms, I think Jennifer Aniston nailed her role here dead-on. I did not recognize her Rachel-ness, if you will, and that is a great feat as an actress. Plus, Jake Gyllenhaal is brilliant in there.
• 500 DAYS of SUMMER – A fairly new indie movie. It’s funny, heart-breaking, and inspiring at the same time. Those are three things you rarely find in a single movie. And even if you do find them, they rarely work as well as they do in this film.
• FINDING NEMO – In a time of overstocked cartoon animations, of Disney-esque happily-ever-afters, one of Pixar’s earlier films is a charming and very inspiring adventure. This film, I believe, started what Wizard of Oz did back in the 1930s. A new era? Something like that. Something big and powerful. The world has not been the same since.
• L’AUBERGE ESPAGNOL – A friend recommended this film to me because we share a very important experience with the film’s protagonist: roaming strange lands and turning it into a home for a while. A lot of what is said in the film is very true to the spirit of finding comfort outside of one’s home country. Suffice to say, it is a profound film that speaks to many people in my generation.
• ADA APA DENGAN CINTA – One of the most well-executed Indonesian films to come to the surface following the decades of what many perceived as the death of Indonesian cinema. The film is nothing extravagant, but the fact that it managed to override the jinx that had for at least 20 years plagued the industry … it’s worthy of a place here.
• SIX FEET UNDER – I realize that this is not a movie so much as an HBO series. But it should be made into a movie, and it contains within its brilliant storyline and dramatic arc something that not only resembles a movie, but bigger than any movie-making technique can achieve. If you don’t believe me, you should give it a lookie. Try the pilot episode. Try the whole season. It’s worth every soundbyte and more.

Cerita ini dimulai dengan seorang gadis remaja yang menderita penyakit jantung kronis. Suatu hari saya pernah melihat di siaran berita televisi tentang gadis yang menderita penyakit ini, yang di usia begitu belia sudah divonis mati. Saya mencoba menggali apa artinya hidup lewat teropong gadis tersebut, tapi yang saya bayangkan justru amarah yang luar biasa, karena tidak punya kesempatan hidup seperti orang lain. Tapi saya yakin, bahkan di tengah tragedi, pasti tetap ada mukjizat/anugerah yang bisa disyukuri. Di situ karakter Malik terbentuk. Dari kacamata dia, akhirnya saya bisa mengapresiasi hidup lewat sebuah tragedi.

- MT

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Excerpt / Cuplikan:

PAGI ITU, SUCI tak mau makan. Hidangan bubur ayam, jus jeruk dan roti panggang yang telah disediakan di atas nampan kayu sama sekali tidak disentuh, dibiarkan begitu saja di kaki ranjang, dalam posisi yang sama seperti saat ditinggalkan Malik satu setengah jam lalu. Dari jendela sinar matahari pagi membanjiri seisi kamar, menjelajahi sudut-sudut gelap dan menelanjangi onggokan debu yang tertampung di sana.

Suci, gadis berusia 15 tahun yang menderita kerusakan jantung kronis, terbaring di tempat tidur sambil menatapi langit-langit kamar, wajahnya pucat, rambutnya yang panjang sebahu dibiarkan tergerai hingga menutupi sebagian besar permukaan bantal, matanya yang hitam bagai manik-manik tiada henti mencoba untuk menembus lapisan-lapisan beton, besi dan kayu yang mengelilinginya. Ia teringat akan masa kecilnya, mengayuh sepeda mini menyusuri gang-gang sempit di kompleks perumahan orangtuanya, berangan bahwa suatu hari ia dan sepeda mini itu akan mencapai ujung dunia.

“Kalau terus begini, kamu tidak akan pernah keluar dari sini,” tegur Malik, seorang perawat laki-laki yang memiliki postur tubuh tinggi dan kerempeng, dari ambang pintu kamar. Seragam yang ia kenakan tampak satu size kebesaran, rambutnya yang dipangkas rapi seperti seorang perwira TNI membuat kepalanya terlihat peyang, dan di usianya yang belum mencapai tiga puluh, wajahnya sudah mulai dijajah oleh kerutan waktu.

Suci mengalihkan pandangannya dari langit-langit ruangan ke arah Malik, yang selama sebulan belakangan selalu muncul dalam kesehariannya. “Makanan di sini bikin rasa laparku hilang,” keluh gadis itu. “Aku ingin makanan sungguhan: rendang, nasi goreng, gado-gado.”

Malik tertawa, mendorong sebuah kereta kecil yang digunakan sebagai alat bantu penghantar obat-obatan pasien ke dalam kamar yang ditempati Suci.

Di saat seperti sekarang, Malik jatuh iba pada Suci seperti ia kerap jatuh iba pada pasien-pasien lain yang penyakitnya sulit atau mustahil disembuhkan. Ada satu ruangan di dalam rumah sakit tempatnya bekerja yang khusus digunakan untuk menampung pasien-pasien pengidap kanker, dan setiap kali ia bertugas jaga di sana, Malik selalu membayangkan monster ganas yang menggerogoti sistem kekebalan tubuh para pasien.

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Jujur, dari awal, “Dua Sisi” adalah sebuah eksperimen. Meskipun teman-teman saya memberi peringatan keras bagi saya untuk tidak menulis cerita dengan latar belakang 9/11 (karena sudah terlalu banyak yang melakukannya) — saya tetap bandel. Bagi saya, peristiwa 9/11 menandakan akil-balik masyarakat dunia, terutama masyarakat AS. Dampaknya tidak hanya dirasakan oleh warga New York City, tetapi juga oleh warga kota-kota besar lainnya. Dan yang membuat saya lebih tercengang adalah … kejadian tersebut masih sempat menuai perdebatan di antara warga internasional yang memiliki latar belakang nasionalis berbeda-beda. Sampai pada titik di mana mereka mencoba untuk menelaah apakah kejadian naas tersebut “salah” atau “benar” — padahal korban yang jatuh belum dikubur. Untuk saya pribadi, terlepas dari argumentasi politik, yang namanya menjatuhkan korban jiwa adalah perbuatan yang “sangat salah” dan “sangat keji”. Tapi saya diingatkan lagi oleh beberapa teman, bahwa saya bisa berkata begitu karena hidup saya selama ini berkecukupan dan nyaman. Saya bukan produk perang, bukan juga produk diksriminasi yang berlebihan. Saya melihat dunia dengan kacamata seorang pengamat, dan bukan pelaku. Tentu saja saya condong membela Amerika Serikat, karena saya buta akan sisi lain dari negara itu. Buta akan nasib negara-negara lain. “Dua Sisi” adalah eksperimen pribadi saya untuk mengerti apa yang selama ini tidak bisa saya artikulasikan: bahwa kemanusiaan tidak punya sisi, dan kita tidak selamanya harus memilih.

- MT

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Excerpt / Cuplikan:

ANDARI MAIMAR, SEORANG pemuda bertubuh jangkung dan berkulit sawo matang, berlari sekencang-kencangnya. Peluhnya mengucur dan merembes menembus  sweater rajutan yang ia kenakan. Tubuhnya basah kuyup seperti orang kehujanan. Koper kerja yang ditentengnya mengayun seiring dengan gerak tangannya. Jantungnya berdetak keras, matanya menangkap jambul asap hitam yang menembus gumpalan awan dari kejauhan, namun hatinya masih menolak untuk percaya.

Mungkinkah?

Sendi-sendinya ngilu, nyeri, tapi ia terus berlari. Bagai orang yang sedang dikejar setan, ia melampaui blok demi blok di Manhattan dengan kecepatan tinggi, berkali-kali nyaris mati tertabrak sepeda motor yang lalu-lalang dan saling menyalip. Ia tidak perduli.

Kemacetan melanda jalur arteri, sementara klakson dibunyikan keras-keras, menimbulkan kegaduhan luar biasa. Gedung Empire State berdiri megah, menjulang mencakar langit di atas. Tapi, lain dari hari-hari biasanya, kali ini gedung itu tampak mati. Bermuram durja sepanjang pagi.

Di tengah kerumunan orang banyak, Andari terus menempuh jarak yang  terbentang dari satu titik kota ke titik lain tanpa sekali pun berhenti untuk mengistirahatkan sepasang kakinya yang kewalahan. Semakin dekat dirinya ke tempat tujuan, lolongan tangis pilu yang merambat keluar dari tenggorokan para warga kota semakin jadi. Mereka yang biasanya acuh tak acuh terhadap sesamanya, sekarang justru terlihat saling menyandarkan kepala mereka di atas bahu orang-orang tak dikenal.

Sementara itu, langit yang merundungi tampak keabuan; dunia yang tadinya semarak dengan warna kini tersaji dalam bingkisan hitam-putih. Musim panas sudah sampai pada penghujungnya, dan begitu pula nasib sekian banyak penduduk di kota yang punya julukan sebagai the Big Apple ini.

Diarahkan oleh kedua kakinya yang kini mengenyut tanpa belas kasihan, Andari sampai di bilangan Wall Street beberapa menit sebelum pukul sepuluh, menerawang dengan mata kepalanya sendiri ke sepanjang jalan protokol yang dipenuhi oleh debu dan arang.

Andari jatuh berlutut, napasnya terengah-engah. Dengan bulu kuduk merinding, ia menatap tanpa mengenali, mendengar tanpa mengerti apa yang sedang ia saksikan:

Sekumpulan manusia berjalan di sekelilingnya seperti orang sekarat. Tubuh mereka berlapiskan darah dan luka. Jeritan tangis memekakkan telinganya, membuatnya meringis karena ngeri.

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Ini salah satu cerita favorit saya, sekaligus cerita yang idenya datang saat saya sedang pijat refleksi. Sejak pertama saya memvisualisasikan cerita ini, saya hanya punya satu pertanyaan di kepala: mungkinkah seorang ahli terapis jatuh cinta pada pelanggannya? Dan karena cinta bisa tumbuh di mana saja, jawabannya “ya”. Pertanyaan saya berikutnya — hubungan macam apa yang kira-kira mereka miliki? Nah, di sini saya mencoba menggali sedangkal dan sesingkat mungkin, cukup di permukaan saja, tentang cinta yang tumbuh dari sebuah luka.

- MT

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Excerpt / Cuplikan:

DI KUNJUNGAN BERIKUTNYA, kamu datang dengan tangan terpaut di lengan seorang pria bertubuh kekar laksana Hercules—tinggi, berotot, berkulit sawo matang, indah dipandang. Kamu bertanya tentang seorang gadis bernama Su.

Usia Su lebih muda dariku: bulan kemarin, ia baru saja merayakan hari ulang tahunnya yang ke-19 dengan membawa tiga lusin donat berisi krim coklat ke tempat kerja untuk dibagikan kepada kami, teman-teman sejawatnya, yang kemudian membalas niat baiknya itu dengan ciuman di pipi, atau pelukan hangat—kecuali aku dan beberapa ahli terapis lain yang berkelamin laki-laki, yang tak boleh cium sana-sini seenaknya—sambil mendoakan agar hari itu membawa banyak berkah baginya.

Sayang, hari ini Su tak masuk kerja. Sakit, katanya—walau semua orang tahu tak ada masalah dengan kesehatannya, cuma enggan masuk kerja, ingin bermalas-malasan di rumah hari Minggu ini bersama teman dan saudara, bosan menyentuh kaki orang banyak.

Kamu menoleh ke arah pria di sampingmu, yang tidak perduli apakah Su masuk kerja atau tidak, yang bahkan tidak tahu Su itu siapa, dan kamu hanya bisa mengendus kesal. Kamu ingin dilayani Su.

Ny. Lai, si pemilik panti pijat refleksi, mengusulkan agar kamu memilih ahli terapis  lain, meyakinkan kamu bahwa semua yang bekerja di panti pijatnya telah dilatih sebaik mungkin untuk melayani berbagai macam keinginan tamu, dan kalau kamu perlu bukti, masing-masing dari kami punya sertifikat pelatihan yang bisa kami tunjukkan kapan saja.

Kamu gigit bibir bawahmu, ragu, seraya meremas tangan pria di sampingmu sedikit lebih kencang, seolah kamu sedang memutuskan siapa di antara kami—para ahli terapis—yang hendak kamu adopsi, atau kamu bawa pulang dan besarkan seperti anak sendiri.

* Kembali ke Excerpt

Most people don’t like to be exposed to sad and depressing things; because, they say, there’s enough of that going on around. So why add more to the pile? Well, most people don’t like jumping off an airplane—some thirty-odd-thousand feet from the ground—simply to experience sky-diving, either. But you do it, anyway. It’s the thrill. The rush of adrenaline. Your body feeds on it; as does your mind.

Me, I need my healthy dose of sadness and depression every once in a while. Not in the way that I want bad things to happen to me, but rather in the way that I can relate to someone else’s troubles. Walk in their shoes. One-third of my daily activities are spent being someone who’s either bubbly, happy, or smiley—this, because I have to meet people, shake their hands, and tell them, over and over again, why I believe they have found the right person to do the job they want to get done: me. (Such is the habit of a freelancer.) Other times, I just try to be normal—and being normal involves a whole lot of boredom. I can’t express anything both on and off paper when I feel absolutely nothing, which is the state most of us are in most of the time. Some people turn to music, films, books, and what have you. I do, too—yet just as most people prefer days in the sun, I can’t get enough of the rain. I’m sad that way. For me, personally: sadness is what gives life joy, without which the idea of joy would be … meaningless.

I’ve been criticized, many times, by friends, because of my habit to end my stories the way that I do; to torture my characters, or worse … kill them off. I am not a fan of happy endings; though I also hate endings that leave me hanging. In my entire life, I’ve only ever deliberately killed my character once. His name was Michael. He killed himself with a gun. I can’t remember why. But a very close friend of mine never really quite got over the fact that I killed Michael. That his death had nothing to do with the story; that I had purportedly done it simply to satisfy my own ego. Or to serve my laziness. The thing about a character’s death is—it almost always kills an ongoing plot, in that you have to start a new one (usually, in crime stories, an intriguing one).

Anyway. Since Michael, I’ve never deliberately killed anyone in my stories. I’ve had them ill, or cared for, or not cared for, or mad. Nor do I feel the need to kill them off. Dying is easy, living is the hard part. In life, there are so many other deaths. The death of relationships, for instance. Or the death of hopes. Of hate. Of love. Of sadness!

For too many years now I’ve attempted to capture the death of something in the lives of the living, because that’s where the drama is. Life is nothing if not dramatic. The best story-tellers always know where the drama is, and how to get there, far before the people to whom he or she is telling the story. That is the soul of every life on earth. There is drama in the mundane. And because of that—I need my regular, healthy dose of sadness. Of depression. Because unlike other people, I find happiness somewhat jarring.

Here is the top-three list of things I constantly go to in order to find the exact right depressive mood:

• HBO’s Six Feet Under: I bought all five seasons’ DVD—and I watch them, religiously, from start to finish every time I need a shot of raw, emotional, and angry exchange of dramatic scenes and dialogues. Alan Ball, in my opinion, is the King of Drama: and I love him for that. Six Feet Under is my number-one choice for all things sad and depressing. And true.
• Short stories. Any well-written short stories will do, by authors that I love. Alice Munro, Joyce Carol Oates, Jhumpa Lahiri, Andre Dubus, Raymond Carver, etc. I love reading short stories because they contain so much more drama than a novel can possibly grasp. Trust me, the shorter the story, the more intense the drama.
• Breathe Me, by Sia. This is my parting song from New York. I was in a car with my two close friends, and I was saying goodbye to New York City (literally, I craned my neck out of the car window and looked down to the glittery surface of Hudson River and waved it goodbye). I was going back home after six years of living in the U.S. It was sad. We were riding away from the sunset. Every time I listen to the song, my chest hurts. And that’s a good thing to keep looking back to; it sort of gives my life a kind of meaning. Somewhere in time I had made a decision that leaves a dent in my overall bubbly existence.

So anyway, there you go.

but all those solitary hours and the waiting and hoping that follow once the writing is done and you’re just dying to get the work out there are virtually easy compared to the part where you have to strategize the marketing points. Marketing points!

If I knew how to do marketing, I’d be in marketing. Alas, this is a skill that all authors must have and must be ready to learn. In this highly competitive climate, it’s impossible for authors to just sit back and let things unfold on its own. It just doesn’t work that way, anymore. I remember a while back a friend of mine who is currently studying the art of becoming a chef complained about the fact that next to acing culinary classes, she is also expected to ace finance, management and bookkeeping classes. Finance?! Management? Bookkeeping?!

The truth is … all good chefs have to know how to balance both skills. Because being a chef means more than just stir-frying ingredients and concocting beautiful recipes, it also means having to recruit staff, pay their wages, haggle with vendors, and make sure that the restaurant he or she is running isn’t losing money, but actually making profit. Unfortunately, none of those tasks can be achieved, or at least achieved well, unless the person in charge knows exactly what he or she is doing. Ergo, the finance, management, and bookkeeping classes.

The same applies to authors. I’m not saying it’s mandatory for writers to know the world of marketing inside and out; but it’d be nice not to keep yourself in the dark, either. First, you have to know your readers. Second, you have to be able to visualize the kind of marketing you’d want for your book(s) to be picked up by the next curious reader. Third, be creative. Don’t be lazy and sit around waiting for the world to come to you. Be a part of the world. Writers are essentially communicators; but if you can’t attract your readers, it doesn’t matter how profound your message may be—no one will want to hear what you have to say.

Sadly, I can’t partake any insights just yet since I’m still on the path of figuring out what to do. And quite honestly I’m a little bit frazzled by the whole process. Nevertheless, this is an integral part of the writing world. Nervous as I am, there’s no other way for me to go but forward. Luckily enough for me, I’ve got great help from friends, GPU editors + promo team, fellow writers, colleagues, mentors, and whatnot. I am greatly indebted to them.

Having said that, my second collection is looking at a simple yet entertaining and refreshing launch next month. I can’t promise it’ll be the greatest event in the world, but I hope you’ll come. Because it won’t be a party without you. So consider this an open invitation to all of you. Time and location are currently TBA, but as soon as I hear anything … you’ll be the first to know.

Thanks for your support.

* Note: If you’re from the media and would like to read the official biography, please go here.

Maggie Tiojakin is born in Jakarta in 1980. When she was eight, she had a dream to one day become a lawyer, because they look incredibly cool cross-examing witnesses and screaming the word “Objection!” without wincing. Then, she realized that the cool part only existed on TV, and that it wasn’t law that attracted her so much as it was L.A. Law. In those days, she spent much of her time glued to the family TV, enjoying American shows, and getting pretty chummy with her TV set when ‘Saved By The Bell’ was on. By the age of 10, Maggie had already become a cult follower of pop-slash-American culture; although she was equally intrigued by Japanese programs. In particular, Goggle V and Doraemon.

Growing up with an older brother gave Maggie little opportunity to play with dolls, or to play chef. She and her brother loved to play with little figures and figurines of characters they regularly watched on TV. They built ships out of cardboard boxes, styrofoam cases, and each figure/figurine would have a name and storyline. It was Maggie’s first taste of creating a world of fiction.

The first film she fell in love with was Ghost (1990) starring Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze. Though, she could care less about the scene where Demi Moore is molding clay. The first TV series she fell in love with was Beverly Hills 90210—and the first Hollywood man to ever capture her heart was Luke Perry. Moreover, the first books she ever read, translated into Bahasa, were by Enid Blyton. And the first teen (book) series she couldn’t get enough of was Girl Talk, translated into Bahasa by Zara Zettira. Nevertheless, the first books (in English) she ever truly loved were the first ten books by Danielle Steel. And the first book that inspired her to write was—get ready for it—John Grisham’s A Time To Kill.

Speaking of firsts, the first time she wrote semi-serious fiction was at the age of 14, four notebooks filled with stories of ‘what if’s’ as requested by friends who had dreamed of marrying stars like Boyzone’s Ronan Keating, or Keanu Reeves. And Maggie first became a published author a year later, at the age of 15, when two of her short stories were published in two consecutive editions at a national teen magazine, Anita Cemerlang. Her first paycheck was IDR 90,000 (US$9)—and she spent it treating her father to lunch at Wendy’s.

Her most favorite thing to do in high school was hang out with her best friends. She dreamed to one day write about her life with them alá Sisterhood of Traveling Pants.

The first novel she ever wrote was at the age of 16, titled NIBOR, which is the opposite of ROBIN, who is the main character in a story about love, deception, and murder (written in Bahasa). The novel came to over 700 pages, typed in WordStar67, divided into 48 chapters. She doesn’t know where that manuscript is now. The second novel she ever wrote was at the age of 18, titled EASTERN ROCK (Karang Timur), which is about love and forgiveness (also in Bahasa). This one came to over 450 pages, typed in Microsoft Word, divided into 40 chapters. She still has the manuscript.

She thought she’d never write another novel, because she fell in love with the short stories. But in 2011 she published Winter Dreams, her first novel; and is currently at work on her second book and story collection (whichever comes first). Ha!

At the age of 20, Maggie left Indonesia to experience life abroad, independently. She chose Boston because she loved New York City but was too afraid to live there. She figured it was best for her to be able to access New York City without actually having to live in it. She would have probably survived NYC, but she wouldn’t trade the six years she spent in Boston for anything in the world.

Six years isn’t a long time, but it was enough to make her feel at home in Beantown. There was something about living in America that made the dream of America a little less glamorous, yet a whole lot more profound. Six years isn’t a long time, but Maggie grew the most during that period than any other time in her life. It was also during this particular period that she decided to experience (many of them for the first time) musical theatre, new media editing, soliciting short stories, niche marketing for children’s books, selling ‘wacky’ objects, becoming a left-hand specialist (though she isn’t left-handed), and sleeping on a couch for three months. It was in this world that she discovered beautiful friendship(s) and lost parts of herself she would never get back. But that is what living is all about, so in that sense she did achieve her goal.

At the age of 26, Maggie returned to her hometown and rebuilt her sense of culture. She discovered the city she had spent the first 20 years of her life living in had changed so little and yet so much; and she also discovered new friends.

Throughout all this, she has been writing. Dreaming. More writing. More dreaming.

In June 2006, Maggie self-published her debut collection under the flagship of Mathe Publications, titled Homecoming (and other stories). The book was well received; however, it had a limited distribution. In 2007, she translated Jason F. Wright’s Wednesday’s Letter for Gagas Media. In 2008, she published a film-adaptation novel Claudia/Jasmine based on Awi Suryadi’s screenplay. In 2010, her second collection, Balada Ching-Ching, will be published by Gramedia Pustaka Utama.

And in the midst of all that she has also been editing, writing, and proofing numerous other writing(s).

Though technically she has spent over 15 years writing, Maggie had always been hesitant about claiming herself as a writer until recently. It seems to be a very prestigious profession she has no right to be a part of. But maybe she is learning to embrace it. Or as a mentor used to tell her, “If you don’t believe in it, no one else will.”

She currently lives in Jakarta, Indonesia.

Anyway, these are the contenders:

“Legend of A Suicide”, a short story collection, by David Vann. I’ve finished reading the first short story, Ichthyology, which I find very interesting and told in a rather intimate fashion (more so than usual). I’ve never read any of Vann’s work before, so this, I suppose, is as good a start as any to get to know him. The book has received rave reviews from The New York Times, Washington Post, USA Today, et cetera.

Read the review here.

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“The Boat” — another short story collection — by Vietnamese-Australian-American author, Nam Le, who is also currently acting as the Editor of Harvard Review. I’ve read two stories thus far, both interesting and different from what I customarily read, in that I see little of his Asianness in his writing — which I think is a good thing. He branches out, reaches out. From what I have read, this guy is the next best thing. Maybe that’s why he was chosen as the recipient of the prestigious Dylan Thomas Award. Looking forward to reading more of the stories.

Read the review here.

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This has to be one of the most interesting collection of short stories ever published both on this side of the world, and that side. Covering celebrated American  authors who’ve succeeded in changing or enhancing the landscape of short story writing, Richard Ford, who acts as the editor, chooses the most well-crafted stories that are not only entertaining but also enlightening. Really, this book is precious. I’ve read 8 stories so far, and not one has let me down. The best part is that it is a compilation of so many authors’ voices that it does feel, at times, as if I were sitting in a harmonious concert. Read the review here.

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Uwem Akpan is a Jesuit priest-cum-author whose short story collection, “Say You’re One of Them”, has garnered him plenty of accolades to bring home to his friends and family back in Nigeria. Both striking and profound, Akpan’s collection speaks of a generation haunted by war, poverty, death, diseases, hunger, and violence. His story, “An Ex-Mas Feast” is haunting, and since its publication in The New Yorker, Akpan has been invited to Oprah Show and is now recognized as a literary figure. I haven’t finished the entire collection, but I have a feeling that it’s better to savor it. Read it slowly, but you know, with feelings :)

Read the review here.

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Xu Xi is a Chinese author born and raised in Hong Kong. She is the first Asian author with the ability to carve a successful writing career by writing solely in English. She now heads a Creative Writing department at City University, Hong Kong, where she partners with dozens of writers from around the world who will help her realize the mission for students to “know Asia, live Asia, write Asia.”

“Overleaf Hong Kong” is a compilation of her short stories and essays about being a Chinese immigrant living overseas. Do you want to know the interesting part, though?

She’s half Indonesian. So there you go :)

Read the review here.

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Alice Munro is one of those “freaks of nature” who can turn stories into life-changing experiences. And I hope it doesn’t sound obscene when I say “freaks of nature” because — in all honesty — it’s a compliment. I’d love to be a “freak of nature” like her; but I think she’s one of those people who are blessed with the brilliant story-telling abilities most people can only dream of. And I am already honored for living in a world where people like her exist. She is a tremendously gifted story-teller, and her latest collection, Too Much Happiness, is proof of that. I have only read the first, second, and third stories — but I can’t wait to dig into the fourth and so on. They’re THAT good, THAT deep, THAT beautiful. I’m almost afraid of rushing through the collection for fear that it will end. Though, eventually, everything ends. And that will be my loss.

Read the review here.

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(Another book will go here once I pick it off the shelf)

To be honest, I don’t know what the story is about, in a sense that if you were to ask me to summarize it in a single sentence, I would have simply shrugged. But if you wanted me to give you a chronological account of the events that make up the story, I could probably draw you a map, a diagram, or a timeline. And this is what I love about short stories, at least the ones that are well-written, which is not to say the ones to have won the most prizes, but the ones which you know from reading them have been written in solitary hours and with excruciating effort on the writers’ part: they do not try to explain to the readers what life means to the characters—they are unapologetic, and they risk perversion for the sake of truth. In the end, after you read these stories, you are forced to take a good look at your own life, examine it, and—if you’re lucky—be thankful for it. Stories are not meant to soothe, judge, or right a wrong: they are told simply to help you reflect, and to set upon you an example of what life might have been if you had not been … well, you.

Because I write, and therefore reading becomes a second habit, I cannot tell you what a good short story looks like; but I am pasting below a review someone wrote for BASS 2005 which I feel comes close to what I think a good short story should do:

“There is something about the short story that feeds the voyeur in me … In the same way I love walking around neighborhoods at night when you can see into people’s houses – just a snippet as you walk by, a painting hanging on the wall, a brightly painted room, the reflection of a TV on the window, you catch a glimpse of another life and another world in the short story. I go walking, at night, when I need to think, when I need to step outside of my life for a while, when I need a breath of fresh, cool, dark air. Short-stories provides a similar perspective – questions are unanswered, the motivation of characters often unclear – and yet somehow, at the end of the walk or the end of the story, I always come back to my life feeling more settled, like what I have seen or read has touched my heart deeply and made me more human” – Anonymous.

I don’t know if there is only one rule to writing short stories, but I would like to think that creative writing has no definite designs, that one may write as one pleases regardless of the rule. And I don’t know if our readers are happy with their short stories, because I certainly crave for more: I don’t need matching flaps, lyrical sentences, brilliant illustrations, or music to go with the stories, I just need something I can identify with, something I can reflect on, something that will unsettle me in my seat or on my bed as I read, something real.