Tips
Have you ever wanted to write your life story but didn't know where to begin? Start small. Write one memory at a time. I teach a simple framework called MEL. Moment Emotion Lesson Every good micro-memoir has these three ingredients. Here's an example. I was
micro memoir
I hated studying. I simply didn't know how to learn. I spent an hour trying to memorise one page, only to forget it after turning to the next. Every poor exam result made me believe my future was doomed. My mother warned me that without a good school
micro memoir
I joined officer cadet training but failed to graduate. I spent a long time reflecting on the reasons. Perhaps I was too shy, spoke too softly, feared making mistakes, and lacked the boldness expected of a military leader. I was more of an analytical strategist and planner than an infantry
micro memoir
Every evening, I sat on my father's lap at our front door as he read the Bible to me. I was too young to understand the words. I understood his voice. Years later, many verses have faded from memory. The feeling of being loved has not.
micro memoir
When I was in my twenties, I dreamed of becoming an electone player. The music moved me emotionally and lifted my spirits. Music made me happy. Every Sunday, I would visit Yamaha at Plaza Singapura to watch the free electone performances. One day, I bought two second-hand electones, one
Poem
The scent of every childhood night. The mosquito coil... glowing quietly beside the bed. Its smoke chased mosquitoes, and somehow, brought us sleep. ~ Singapore, My Memories Did your family use mosquito coils? What memories come back when you smell one today?
micro memoir
It was probably the most embarrassing moment of my life. My Toastmasters club nominated me to represent them in a national humorous speech contest. I had rehearsed my speech countless times. Standing before a sea of people, I felt confident. Then, midway through my speech, my mind went blank. I
micro memoir
He helped me. Now I help. The mosquito coil was fragile. So was I. Whenever my small fingers snapped it, my father would quietly take over. Today, I help him with things he can no longer do alone. The circle has turned.
Poem
Mother packed more than just food. The tiffin... three tiers of love from a mother's kitchen. Carried to school, to work, to a simpler time. ~ Singapore, My Memories What do you remember about tiffin carriers?
micro memoir
Every day I felt miserable at work. I literally dragged my feet to the office. My supervisor seemed determined to make life difficult for me and hoped I would quit. One day, my friend Billy Kueek reminded me that I had a choice. I could stay and remain miserable, or
micro memoir
During an in-camp training exercise as a reservist, my platoon commander suddenly ordered me to brief the men. The moment I opened my mouth, the soldiers laughed. I had a high-pitched voice and felt deeply embarrassed. At that moment, I wished the earth would open up and swallow
micro memoir
When I was studying at Playfair Primary School, I had to cross the road near the junction of Paya Lebar Road and Airport Road. One day, I stepped off the central divider without paying attention. A lorry whizzed past my face, inches from my nose. Had I taken one more
