PHOTO: Joyce Chua, author of the acclaimed Children of the Desert trilogy, blends myth and emotion in stories rooted in Southeast Asian spirit.
Myth Memory And Magic In Every Word
Joyce Chua discusses the emotional roots of her fantasy and YA fiction, the cultural inspirations behind her stories, and the creative process of building mythic and contemporary worlds alike.
Joyce Chua writes with a quiet intensity that lingers long after the final page. Whether she’s conjuring mythical desert kingdoms or tracing the delicate threads between memory and dreams, her stories pulse with emotional resonance and lyrical depth. Her narratives are driven not just by plot, but by the inner lives of characters who feel vividly real—young women who are fierce, flawed, and achingly human.
In her Children of the Desert trilogy, Chua weaves a tapestry of empire, myth, and legacy, a world shaped as much by the politics of power as by the yearning for belonging. Until Morning and No Room in Neverland, on the other hand, showcase her gift for finding wonder in the everyday—where art bleeds into reality, and the line between dream and waking is quietly blurred. Across genres and settings, she remains a writer of intuition and tenderness.
There is a kind of literary alchemy in how Chua blends the fantastical with the intimate. Her voice is one shaped by cross-cultural roots, a global imagination anchored in Southeast Asia. Her characters often carry echoes of herself—idealists, seekers, daughters navigating the liminal space between past and future.
Joyce Chua’s work reminds us that even in imagined worlds, it is the emotional truth that resonates most. Her stories are an invitation to feel deeply, to listen closely, and perhaps, to find a piece of ourselves in the journey.
What inspired you to create the mythical spring and desert kingdom in Land of Sand and Song?
I read this book called The Stone of Heaven, which chronicles the fascination with jade starting from the Qing dynasty emperor Qianlong. I also read that Han dynasty emperor Qin Shihuang was also obsessed with finding the elixir of life. These formed the basis of the spring in the book, which is said to contain the elixir of life and the cure to mankind’s woes. A mythical spring like that would of course have powerful men eyeing it, which then led me to develop the dynamics—and rivalries—of the desert kingdoms. That formed the central external conflict that set the story in motion.
How did your background in English literature influence your approach to writing YA fantasy and contemporary fiction?
\[NB: I majored in English Language, not Literature.]
Majoring in English exposed me to a variety of writing styles, genres, and narrative voices. I went through a phase in university where I read a lot of literary fiction, on top of my regular diet of contemporary young adult and fantasy. Reading in various genres allowed me to draw inspiration from different sources and experiment with different voices and writing styles. My narrative voice was therefore a result of all this exposure, exploration and experimentation.
Until Morning weaves art, memory, and dreams—what was the creative process like for bringing those elements together?
It started with the premise of a girl roaming around a dreamscape. I had read After Dark by Haruki Murakami and loved the ethereal, dreamlike quality of the setting, so I wanted to introduce my characters in that dreamscape right away and then set about exploring how they got there.
I think art, memories, and dreams are very much intertwined—each of these feeds into the other. So I tried to blend them all together by having Lexi (the female protagonist) dream of meeting her favourite street artist and also meet him in her dream, and by letting what happens in the dream affect their waking lives, and vice versa. Weaving these two lives that the characters have—their dreaming one and waking one—was therefore also a process of discovering their actual and projected selves, which allowed me to know them better.
Desert Rose is a compelling protagonist. What were the challenges in writing a heroine who is both fierce and vulnerable?
Crafting Desert Rose was a very rewarding process. I got to know her deeper as I wrote, and she surprised me in many ways. I discovered her more emotional side when she met Windshadoow, her fellow assassin-in-training and desert girl; her loyal side when she interacted with her tribespeople, and her softer side when she met the princes Wei and Meng. But that was precisely the challenge—because I only got to know her as I wrote the series, I had to go in with a fuzzy impression of her at the beginning. I think there’s a tendency for some authors to make their heroines infallible and tough, but I think there’s strength in vulnerability too, so I tried to bring it out through her interactions with the people around her.
How do you balance the fantastical elements in your stories with emotional realism?
My stories always stem from an emotional element as I centre the story around my characters and develop the plot from there. It always comes down to: who am I writing, and why is their story significant? What feeling am I hoping to convey? Fantastical elements are a bonus and can serve the plot, but character—and emotional realism and universality—is the heart of any story I write.
Singapore is often seen as modern and urban—how do your surroundings influence the fantastical and historical landscapes you write about?
Singapore has a glossy urban landscape, but still retains many of its traditions and cultures. Growing up in Singapore as a Chinese meant I was exposed to both Chinese and Western culture. I watched shows like Journey to the West and The Eight Immortals, and heard folk tales like The Legend of Chang’e and Madam White Snake, while also reading Enid Blyton’s Wishing Chair series and Pippi Longstocking as a child.
When I became a writer, my approach to writing fantasy and contemporary fiction was therefore to find a way to blend those two worlds. I look for the fantastical in the everyday setting I’ve grown so accustomed to, and look for magic in the ordinary (like with Until Morning and No Room in Neverland). Or, I take elements of the shows I watch (for instance, Chinese historical dramas) and blend them with popular tropes in YA fiction (like in Land of Sand and Song, slow-burn romance, found family, and forced proximity).
Which of your characters across all your books do you relate to the most, and why?
Every one of my female protagonist contains a piece of me—Desert Rose (from Land of Sand and Song) is free-spirited and very close to her father; Gemma (from No Room in Neverland) is stubbornly optimistic; Lexi (from Until Morning) is an idealist and a dreamer. I find that imbuing each of my characters with a quality I can personally relate to helps me to craft them more authentically and intimately.
What advice would you give to emerging authors in Southeast Asia hoping to write fantasy or contemporary YA fiction?
Embrace your setting! There are so many stories from this region that have yet to be uncovered. Be it fantasy or contemporary, our unique setting—with its melting pot of cultures, languages, and customs—can inspire unique stories that are both authentic and universal. Don’t be afraid to imagine new worlds and follow your curiosity. Our cultural exposure can be our greatest asset in storytelling.
