The award ceremony for the Singapore Literature Prize 2018 took place on the evening of 6 August 2018. I didn't win. And that's fine. It was a close fight and a hard choice to make among the 5 shortlisted titles. Each poetry collection had something profoundly meaningful to convey about the world they lived and wrote in. However, such is competition that there can be only one winner. The limelight is brightest when focused on one point, blinding everything else outside, and tonight's award ceremony was no exception. As some MMA fighters like to say, it is what it is.
Still, to be among the top 5 is already an achievement because it is an indication of quality, a nod that Bitter Punch is tough enough to hang out with titans. The cage closes. Bitter Punch stands inside and is unafraid to bang, which is just the way I envisioned my poetry to be. A fighter. Looking at it now, Bitter Punch feels like it was written in a previous life when I was a markedly different man. For years I believed publishing it constituted an exorcism of sorts, a laying to rest of my past. Every open page becomes an open window of words, letting sunlight in and turning ghosts into ash and dust. Then the shortlist happened and Bitter Punch received enough media exposure to make new readers take notice, which is great. Now that the ceremony's over, I am glad this chapter of my creative journey can come to a close. I can focus on what's at hand: my next project. Gloves on. Let's bang again.
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