“Holy shit,” I declared and handed my phone to my wife. “Am I reading this right?” It was an email from Penguin South East Asia (Penguin SEA) with an offer for the world rights to publish my book. She took her time to read it. I watched her expression shift from confusion to surprise and delight.

“Wow. Congratulations, baby! Penguin is interested!”

“Okay, so I read it right.”

I sat down, suddenly lightheaded. After more than twenty years of practicing law, drafting countless submissions, and arguing before judges who ranged from the attentive to the seemingly comatose, it wasn’t a legal victory making me dizzy—it was an email about my stories. My niche stories about being a Malaysian lawyer in Kuala Lumpur and Petaling Jaya, was deemed worthy for a worldwide audience, like Singapore and Brunei. Crossing my fingers for Thailand and, maybe, Australia.

In early 2023, I entertained the idea of curating some of my stories and essays into a book. Occasionally over the years, some of my friends and readers suggested I put it together, so why not give it a shot? I wanted it to contain more of my early stories and essays. Those were less likely to be read because they were seen as ‘outdated’ or ‘aged content’, no longer relevant to the now.

I felt they still held up and deserved to be read by my newer audience. Once I completed listing the material, I could better discern themes in which to organise them.

Little did I know that within 12 months, those humble blog posts would transform into three books, taking me from self-publishing an e-book to the imprint of a publisher I admired and then one that I’d revered since teenhood.

The easiest theme to discern was about call speeches.

I collected all the call speeches I posted here and my reflections about the call speech and the call to the bar occasion. I made it an ebook because I wanted my friend, Wan Zafran, a litigator with insane coding abilities, handsome and all-round nice guy, to create it for me. He loved the idea and insisted on doing it. After a few months of tippy, tappy, tippy, tappy, he produced the beautiful The Book of Call Speeches for me, which we released in June 2024. Lovely, lovely guy. He’s single.

The other theme that was easy to discern were about my early years of practice, when I grew up as a lawyer. Most legal autobiographies are by great men who did great things. I preferred mine to be real and less lofty. I wanted it to focus on my younger days, when I just started practice because it best captured my growing pains, awkward stumbles and near misses. Those, I felt, would resonate better with law students, newer lawyers, and those interested in Malaysian legal practice.

I sent the ‘early years’ collection to Gerakbudaya on 27 May 2023. I read somewhere about them accepting manuscript submissions. I surfed over to their website and confirmed it.

They replied with interest on 18 July 2023. Natalie Chan, my Gerakbudaya editor, got in touch on 25 August 2023. By 7 September 2023, I signed the contract faster than you could say, Sign Here. Bam, Boom, Bim, and suddenly I was in the purgatory known as ‘the Editing Process’. This collection was released in October 2024 as From the Bar Stool: Tales, Thoughts, Teachings and Touts from a Malaysian Lawyer.

After receiving Gerakbudaya’s expression of interest, I was excited and felt an unusual surge of confidence in myself. This one belum sign contract lagi. This surge of confidence was similar to what I imagine people feel after their fifth glass of wine—bold, unstoppable, and completely detached from reality. I did what any temporarily delusional writer would do: I curated another collection themed ‘my middle years’, edited it, arranged it, and sent it to Penguin SEA on 22 July 2023. I sent it to Penguin because they have a an open invitation for manuscript submissions too.

After the surge of confidence left me, I felt mildy embarrassed about the ambition I cultivated when I was aloft it. I mean, it’s Penguin, who am I kidding? It is just my favourite publisher of books, ever. The publisher of so many, many excellent, classive and treasured books, fiction and non-fiction. And for that I adore them.

Waiting for publisher responses is like waiting for your client to send you important documents for an urgent matter—you check your email every five minutes while pretending you’re not worried at all.

At the two month mark, which was more or less when Gerakbudaya responded, I still didn’t hear from Penguin after my submission—not even a “thanks for the manuscript, and we’ll respond to you in due course.”

But fair enough. They are a regional company. I came in through the front door like everyone else. I’m sure they have hundreds, if not thousands, of manuscripts coming through all across South East Asia. What with all this AI produced fiction. Mine was nonfiction and about a Malaysian lawyer in Petaling Jaya. It doesn’t even sound sexy lah. How much more niche could I be?

By the third month, I figured it wasn’t happening. So, that’s how I felt like to submit a piece of work and have it rejected, I thought. That’s when I went online to immerse myself in stories about successful writers who suffered many, many rejections before they were published and became bestsellers.

Then in early November 2023, Nora Nazrene, the publisher for Penguin SEA, asked for specific information about and relating to the book like: the Working Title, Synopsis, Essay List and a short description of each essay, word count, manuscript completion date, three compelling reasons why readers will buy the book, and three already published titles similar to mine. I, of course, responded immediately. Then things went quiet.

Just as I began to wonder whether it was all an imagined fantasy, in mid-February 2024, Nora sent an offer for the ‘World Rights’ of the manuscript. I was nonplussed. I had my wife read the email to make sure I read it correctly. It’s one of the things you hope for deep down, but also deep down, you’re already consoling yourself for the eventual rejection. She confirmed it read what I thought I read.

The contract was signed on 6 March 2024. I celebrated in true bestselling author fashion by spending two-thirds of my advance on Burger King for my family.

Unlike Gerakbudaya, where I only worked with Natalie about everything about the book—editing, cover, blurb, and marketing—she’s a superwoman who can do many, many things at once, at Penguin, I dealt with several departments.

With Penguin, the process started with a preliminary read with light edits by a Filipino lady based in the Philippines. After that, a chap in India took over, scrutinised the manuscript carefully, and made more significant editorial suggestions to the draft. I spent the most time with him. After that was done and dusted, I dealt with the cover designer. I think she as from India too.

Now, I am dealing with the marketing people about the impending release. I think they’re from Singapore. There’s another section that deals with the contract and payment. They have many, many departments all seemingly scattered across South and South East Asia.

Writ At Large: A Legal Life Well-Rounded will be released on 22 April 2025. The preorder links for the book are below:

Amazon Singapore: https://www.amazon.sg/Writ-Large-legal-life-well-rounded/dp/9815233823/ref=sr_1_1

Kinokuniya Singapore: https://singapore.kinokuniya.com/bw/9789815233827

Amazon Australia: https://www.amazon.com.au/Writ-Large-legal-life-well-rounded/dp/9815233823/ref=sr_1_1

Publishing with Penguin feels like an epic milestone and a dream come true. It was one of those things you dream about but place no hopes on it happening to avoid disappointment. It means a lot to be published by a book publisher I hold in high esteem.

With the release of Writ At Large, within 10 months, from June 2024 to April 2025, I published three books culled from this blog’s archives. In that time, I’ve gone from self-publishing an ebook to being published by an established and reputable domestic publisher to being published by the regional branch of an established and famous international publisher.

I am truly, truly grateful for the opportunities, experiences, and encouragement. I thank all of you who have stopped by to read, comment, share, discuss, support and encourage.

There are three observations, I’d like to share from this experience:

Firstly, if you want to get into this writing business, don’t quit your day job! Unless you are Haruki Murakami, who sells by the millions and has queues every time a new book of his is released, keep your day job. You are not going to earn enough for a living, just a bit of pocket money. It’s even sadder if you are in the legal writing business, i.e., legal books. If you hope to live off that, you better have two jobs and a working spouse who earns exponentially more than you.

Secondly, I confess, I was surprised to discover that getting published was not as difficult as I thought it would be. I was bracing myself for a slew of rejections and ultimately having to self-publish using the office photocopier and stapler, but all of it went smoothly. Both manuscript submissions were accepted on the first try. The editors I worked with were enthusiastic and encouraging with their comments.

Quite honestly, I was so pleasantly surprised how easy everything turned out to be, I was almost disappointed by the lack of resistance. And with that I have unleashed the hounds of hell upon myself. But, but I will not be dramatic about it and happily accept these as one of my few breaks that life deigns to bless me and savour the privilege.

Finally, books are easier written a little bit at a time, not all at once. We can only write so many things at once, and in one sitting. Writing weekly self-contained pieces intuitively inspired broke down the challenge of writing a whole book to a productive process than it would have been if I sat down and tried to write as many as I could at once.

It allows us to build up our store of material from which to fashion more new books from. Writing once a week yields 52 essays a year. Assuming a constant rate, in three years, that a store of 156 essays. That’s a weatlh of material to curate from.

Looking back on this unexpected journey from blogger to published author, I’m reminded of something I read early on in my practice: “The path reveals itself to those who keep walking.” I didn’t fully understand it then, but I do now.

Each essay I wrote here wasn’t just content disappearing into the digital void—it was a stepping stone. Each story formed part of a bridge I was unconsciously building toward something I barely dared to dream about. The irony isn’t lost on me that after years of crafting legal arguments designed to persuade, it’s these personal stories—the stumbles, the doubts, the small victories—that found their way to publishers’ desks and, soon, to readers’ hands.

When I think about these three books—from self-published e-book to Gerakbudaya to Penguin—I don’t just see my name in print. I see evidence that consistency trumps genius, that vulnerability resonates more than perfection, and that the stories we think are too small or too niche might be exactly what others need to read.

So if you’re reading this and harboring your own creative aspirations, do it. What seems impossible today is just waiting for you to accumulate enough stepping stones. Write that first piece. Then write another. Then another. Before you know it, you’ll have your own wealth of material—not just for books, but for a life rich with expression and meaning.

As for me, I’m still a lawyer first—I can’t quit, otherwise I’ll starve. There’s only so many pages my family and I can eat. For now, when clients ask what I’ve been up to lately, and I want to be a bit poyo, I can casually mention, “Oh, just finalizing things with my publisher… Penguin.” And then quickly change the subject before they realize I’m still internally pinching myself in disbelief.