How do you describe your writing, and where does Small Bodies of Water fit into the journey so far?

Fragmentary, sensory, always drifting towards poetry. I have always seen myself as a poet, first and foremost – I still do. But I also sometimes can’t stop writing prose. I’m a fan of excess – I’m quite materialistic and I collect lots of stuff I can’t throw away –  so maybe that’s why I keep turning to prose. I think that in prose I can be my messiest self. Some days, only essays are big enough to contain all my feelings. Small Bodies of Water started out as a collection of personal essays and bits of journals and diaries I’d written over the years. I soon realised water was the connective force running through all the pieces. 

How has the writing process been compared with your expectations?

Much of the book was completed during 2020 –  a challenging year for creativity. I didn’t expect I’d write about the pandemic itself, but I soon realised I had to accurately capture my current reality. I couldn’t pretend. 

What drew you to bodies of water as the central metaphor?

I feel most myself when cooking, swimming or in the flow of writing. The book is possibly held together by these three things. I also feel most anchored or at home when I’m near the sea, able to hear it and smell it. I think, in everything I write, I’m always searching for bodies of water, for fluid movement and clarity. 

Diaspora and migration clearly play a guiding role in your work. I wonder if you could say a little about this significance? 

This is another current that runs through my work. As a New Zealander living far from New Zealand, and with family scattered between Malaysia, Singapore, Canada, Australia and New Zealand, I am always homesick for somewhere. I’m always writing my way towards another place. 

For people who grew up in one place there is likely a very strong association between particular landscapes and home. For you, I wonder how having many places - all with different landscapes, climates etc. - as part of your heritage affects your sense of place as home? Is it an additive matter of simply having more places that feel like home, or is it more complex?

I feel so lucky to have multiple places to call home. But it means it’s hard for me to put down roots; to feel really settled. Lots of ‘nature writers’ write intentionally about a single place –  their homeland, the place their ancestors come from. It took me such a long time to find ‘nature writing’ books that encapsulated something of my own scattered, migratory background. With Small Bodies of Water, I wanted to show that we’re here too. We may not feel tied to one single place or one nationality or one language; the natural world means something different to us. 

What other writers/pieces/books would you recommend for people who enjoy your own work?

These memoirs and essay collections were all important to me during the writing of Small Bodies of Water –  Turning by Jessica J. Lee, Swimming Studies by Leanne Shapton, and All Who Live On Islands by Rose Lu. 

Pre-order or order Small Bodies of Water, published on 5th August 2021, at Bookshop.org here!