I still vividly recalled my childhood conversation with my papa.
I was in primary school then — a voracious reader who probably would have found it unimaginable then to understand what it means to have to “find time to read” when she grows up. Both English and Chinese books were my staples — from Sweet Valley High and Nancy Drew series to 琼瑶 小说与尤今的散文. I told papa then that I was going to read all the books there were in the world, thinking that there was a finite number of books which should not be too difficult to finish reading if I made that my life goal. I received a resounding knock on the head of course, for being so naive.
Books never cease to comfort and for someone who was incredibly shy as an awkward teenager, they offer solace for they never fail to lift one’s spirit. For someone whose idea of a post-exam celebration in secondary school means heading down to the quiet and now-defunct Queenstown Library (and not Orchard Road where my more rambunctious classmates would prefer to go), it is not too surprising that my dream was to author books.
And hence my first effort at writing a children’s picture book.
I adore children’s picture books. They have an amazing way of condensing something so profound into words and illustrations that are so concise and moving all at the same time. There is a sizeable collection of children’s picture books at home and in school, and I have always loved that feeling of knowing exactly which book to whip out in class whenever the situation calls for it. And now to have my very own title in my own collection which I can share at hand is very gratifying.
I hope all who have encountered Murphy’s story find it a gratifying read too. 🙂