Pages of Life and Books: Communication, Experience, and Calm.

I first met Trang nearly 15 years ago, back when I was still living the Agency life, and I never knew she had such a gift with words, at least not until I held her book in my hands. I’m not quite sure what to call it: an autobiography of her life and experiences, a professional memoir, or perhaps a collection of diary pages—dialogues with herself and with the world around her? Let’s just call it storytelling, because “storytelling” is the very core of this profession, the essence of those who work in communications.

A good communicator is, above all, someone who knows how to tell a compelling story. To tell a compelling story, you must first understand what your audience wants to hear - even if they themselves don’t yet know it. And Trang has told many such stories throughout her journey of learning and practicing the craft.

She once wrote:

“Communication only truly comes alive, stirs things up, and makes an impact when it dares to reveal its devilish nature: awakening needs from the deepest recesses, sparking desires to the point of being irresistible, and paving the way for consumers to be satisfied. Every piece of communication that touches a consumer must carry the force of a devil’s message. Devils never give away anything for free. With a fair balance of give-and-take, people are compelled to be more honest and cautious with the wants they seek to fulfill.”

I love that excerpt. Whoever grasps this truth is surely a master of the craft. You’d expect such a master to keep swimming freely, breaking into the vast ocean. But reaching the final pages, you finally understand why Trang titled her book the way she did: a river that, in its circumstances, could not easily merge into the sea.

It shows how strong Trang had to be to overcome the turbulent waves of her health, choosing instead to find refuge in things close to the heart—in how she chose to live in the present. It explains why, more than a decade ago, Trang brimmed with fiery passion, surrounded by hyperactive eccentrics, psychos we call creatives, and those madly in love with pain and pleasure alike—the agencies. Back then, it seemed that if you weren’t spinning in chaos, you weren’t truly alive. And yet, all these years later, we meet again at such an unlikely point: a shared love for things that slow life down and soften its edges—like ceramics, flowers, and handicrafts.

No matter what, when I close Trang’s book, I still feel she has lived a life worth living—one filled with passion, wholly devoted to her youth—even if her final lines carry a quiet sorrow.

And I hope that while the pages may close here, her “life pages” will continue to unfold with peace and calm. May they allow her to keep creating meaning in this world—for those around her, for the younger generation stepping into marketing, communications, and brand building. And most of all, for herself.