Mr Robert Raymer, writer

I really love writing. Once an idea or a concept attaches to my mind, the words flow out of my fingers without forethought and the story or write-up shapes itself into its final form in front of my eyes. Add editing skills to that and I am set for life.

So what would be the coolest thing to happen to a would-be writer, a lowly humble scribbler like me?

The answer: To be shot down and brought back to reality by a real writer.

Best thing to have ever happen in my life.

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Lovers and Strangers and Lovers and Strangers, Revisited (see below) were written by a Mr Robert Raymer, father of three, established and prolific writer, published author (it's redundant but I still need to say it) and former Creative Writing lecturer in USM, which was where I had the privilege to study under him.

Lovers and Strangers, Revisited by Robert Raymer

This reminds me, I gotta go get myself a copy. Damn you, procrastinating side of self.

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I was lucky that during my 3 years in university, the nation had ourselves our first and only low-cost airline (Thanks tony) which allowed me to fly home without burning holes in my ragged, torn pockets. In one of these flights, I happen to chance upon an article written by a Raymer fella, who claims to teach Creative Writing in USM, in one of the in-flight magazines. Out of curiousity, I ventured into unknown territory (I was in Technology and Sciences and he was teaching in Languages) and got myself enrolled in his class during my final year.

First day in class, whoa, he doesn't look like he's from around here. And once he opens his mouth, Yup, he's not from around here.

He tells our class of 17 that he has had complaints from previous batches of students that they don't understand the words that are coming out of his mouth. He says tough luck, he can't change his accent. Deal with it or drop out.

I became a fan for life.

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Throughout the semester, I found out that he had backpacked in over 30 countries, that his family had frantically called Red Crescent to ask if they found his body amongst the people who drowned due to the tsunami that occurred in Sri Lanka on Boxing Day 2004, which also hit Penang (where my university was and where he resides with his wife), that he was a workaholic, that he pushes his students a lot and that surprisingly brings out the best of them, and that he has a lot of ex-students who are proud to call him their teacher (google his name), that he views things differently and appreciates things that we Malaysians take for granted, that he is a doting father and that he is one of the pushing forces, an advocate, a voice for people who want to write in Malaysia. Imagine that, a foreigner helping locals to learn to be a writer. Please do not resent that last statement, I'm just saying it as it is.

He also has an exceptional memory. Either that or he refers to his journals a lot and so remembers most of his ex-students. And you can be sure that most of his ex-students remember him.

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His class was very trying and if you are not in love with... no no no, if you are not obsessed with writing, you wouldn't have survived it. He gives you assignments throughout the whole semester, each assignment taking up merely 10% of your final grade.

If your writing sucks, do over.

If you missed what he asked for, do over.

If you do not deliver what he believes you can deliver, yup, do over. Hey, how did he know how far you can go? Good question, Mr Question out of nowhere... I believe that he sizes you up from the first assignment he gives you.

I can almost remember the way he delivered that first assignment.

Mr. Raymer: Write... an autobiography of yourself.
Clueless students: Wow, that was boring / easy / predictable / second grade...
Mr. Raymer: ...on a piece of A4 paper, 12 pt Times, double spacing.
Clueless students: I thought he finished talking / Did we hear him right? / How does one summarizes one's life on a single piece of paper? / What's double spacing?
Mr. Raymer: Use only the front side of the paper.
Clueless students: Ok, now I think he is loco / Omg, he looks serious. / Is it too late to drop this paper? / What's double spacing?
Mr. Raymer: This will take up 10% of your final grade. Once you've picked your jaw off the floor, figure it out and come to me for help, if you need it.
Clueless students: (all) Where's your office?!

Ok, maybe it didn't go exactly like that but the calmness from him and shock from us was pretty much as portrayed. I killed so many trees with that assignment. But I managed to pull through. And got him to remember my name, I think. Either that, or he read from the roster.

In between there were plenty of other assignments but our last one... yup, our last assignment was freestyle. The only catch was we had to write it in the first person and if possible in present tense. We were supposed to write about something we really know inside out, and that for me would be... the twist ending.

From the beginning I knew what I wanted to write and so I got to it.

After we had submitted our first drafts, my idea, among many others, was picked out and discussed in class. It was part of the exercise. Everyone knows what everyone is writing and once it is out in the open, your storyline is up for attacks from 'critics'. That is how it is in real life, and so he subjects our work, and us, to it early on. Only difference here is after the attack, the whole class has to work together to 'fix' the attacked storyline. Then the battered survivor takes their piece home and reworks it.

My idea... well, Mr Raymer liked my idea... but he massacred the way I delivered it. He asked so many questions that I couldn't answer. That I've never even thought of. So many questions that the rest of the class couldn't answer either. It was like I caught myself in a checkmate in a chess fight with myself. And nobody in class or in the whole university can help me.

Instead of being upset by the confrontation, I actually found reason in what he said. I pondered over his questions, met with him a couple more times, thought about his questions some more, probed my mind for the answers, the viewpoints... I almost went mad.

And then... I did what he told us to do.

I threw away my draft and started afresh, bearing in mind all the different ways he taught me on how one can massacre a story and what I should be doing to avoid the second massacre.

My labour of love, a story about a crossdresser finding love in a most unexpected way, got me an A. I don't believe I've worked harder on any other assignment in university throughout those three years.

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Last I heard from him, he was teaching in Unimas, a university in Kuching, Sarawak, is a judge in the MPH-Alliance Story Writing Competition and has three blogs to his name. I'm not sure which ones are still active but there are plenty of things that you can read up on in all three blogs.

Borneo Expat Writer and its counterpart as well as this interesting blog, The story behind the story.

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And if you are wondering, I wrote about a male crossdresser who is preparing for his wedding to a man his workaholic and control freak sister introduced him to. His two other sisters are helping him, I mean her, into her wedding dress and making last minute arrangements to her wedding. She contemplates telling her future bridegroom about her true self and about the plans of future sacrifices (surgeries) that she would make to ensure that she becomes the woman in her fiance's life. But a part of her feels that she must know if her groom can accept the person that she really is before they walk down the aisle. It would also be a fright for him to find out who she really is on their wedding night without prior warning.

Once she has a minute to herself, she sneaks out of her dressing room to meet up with her future husband. She finds him on his way out of his room. The man remarks that it is bad luck to see the bride before the wedding but he has something important to tell her. She demands to go first and tells him the reason that she has not slept with him before getting married despite it being the 21st century and all is because she has a secret to hide: she is a male crossdresser. She lunges into a tirade of self explanation and divulges her plans to save up for surgeries that would make her the bride of his dreams.

She finds him in a state of shock and deep down inside she feels that all is lost and that she has made the wrong call whereas he will be calling off the wedding. He leaves her side. She drops and starts crying. He comes back and sits down next to her and shows her, in his hand, a picture of a little girl. She composes herself and making small talk, says that the girl is lovely and somewhat familiar.

The guy confesses that he is that little girl. The thing he wanted to tell her before the wedding was that he is a female crossdresser. His shocked look was not of her cover up but more of the irony of the situation. They both start laughing and they hug. They decide for the wedding to continue as planned as love should transcend all boundaries, including the sexes of the bride- and groom-to-be.

The bride also takes a minute to reexamine his control freak sister's love for him and wonders, since the two of them were introduced to each other through her, if she had planned this happy ending all along.

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