This is a paper I was required to submit for my ENG 106 - Creative Writing class.
When asked about how an individual
came about writing; typical answers would include “it made me realized who I
really am”, “it inspires me to be happy”, “it changed my life”, “it saved me
from pain”, and a lot more typical answers we could only fit into this typical
introduction. My story as a writer, or as someone who considers herself a
writer, is no different.
It has always been my biggest issue
that at a very young age, I should already be making my parents proud. So, I
ventured into a lot of fields hoping I could find a place for myself and for my
self-proclaimed talent. I enrolled in a ballet class for one day; it did not
work for me. I also took guitar lessons for one day and I could not see myself
being a musician, so I quit. I involved myself in theatre productions way back
in elementary, choir competitions, student governance, beauty pageants; I even
thought, I could be a historian. All of these attempts, regardless of the
outcome, led to disappointments. I could not still me myself being happy doing
all of these and making my parents proud at the same time. It was a stage in my
life where I felt like a misfit; a misfit in epic proportions.
My first writing competition came
about as a surprise. I was chosen to represent the school into a division press
conference and was categorized under editorial writing and feature writing. I specifically
told my coach that writing is not something I do very often, but she merely replied,
“Pwede ka na siguro, magaling ka naman sa English”. With that, I started my
training but at the very last minute, they made me compete in Filipino.
Although I do not agree with their choices, I still have to compete because it
was what I came for.
To
cut the long story short, I was in the 5th grade and I lost; my
first defeat. I know I could blame my coaches for making me change the game
plan at a very crucial stage but I did not. I blamed my lacklustre performance
and my arrogance. So there, I made a vow; to compete the following year under
any medium and win.
First element to being a writer is
practice. Writers are made and not born; this is because I believe that
something so beautiful cannot spring from the netherworld; something as pure
and as sacred as writing is developed and achieved through rigorous efforts.
Through
the course of my preparation for my next competition, I saw how my parents
supported me in every way imaginable. Finally,
it looked as if it was a panoramic view of a huge puzzle and at long last the
pieces are coming together. I reached a point where I submit at least three
articles a week for critiquing; I would let my coaches and my division
superintendent read my works and give inputs.
Then,
it hit me. One of my most respected mentors said, after having read my
editorial about education crisis in the Philippines, “I saw you compete in
Spelling bees, Quiz bees, Slogan making contests and even choral competitions;
but never have I seen you this driven. You are in the place you are supposed to
be”. It was a note in red ink at the back of my piece and it gave me the
realization that my very first defeat fuelled this drive for me to do what I
believe I want to achieve for myself.
The
competition came, and I competed under Editorial Writing English; results came
out and I won. Winning the competition led to me trying out for the
Editor-in-Chief post in our elementary school newspaper “The Vehicle”. I ended
up getting the position and making me even more fired up to carry on on this
journey; a journey I knew would be worth it.
I
entered a science-oriented high school and was qualified for the Special
Science Curriculum. Ironically, for my MAPEH class, I decided to join the
English school paper “The Isabelan”. For a 12 year old, I could say, I was
pretty brave. I submitted an essay as an audition piece for the Editor-in-Chief
position; a position they would normally give to someone older and more experienced.
After a week, I got a call from my adviser congratulating me for being the
youngest Editor-in-Chief in the long line of Editors-in-Chief our school paper
ever had. It was a confirmation that I am on the right track. My orientation as
a writer originated from a strong leaning towards journalism but entering
college, an element about creative writing shifted my attention.
Much
of my writings revolve around some common and recurrent themes; but what is
clear is that I write better with any emotion so powerful that it almost
consumes my entirety; that nothing else matters but finishing a specific piece.
It does not have to be pain, it just has to be strong enough to shut everything
down and make me focus on one goal.
I
remembered taking college entrance exams and deciding that I would be taking
any prelaw course; because I also love discourse and being a lawyer would help
me nourish that love for speech communication. I qualified for the BS
Accountancy degree program of the University of Santo Tomas, the same degree
program of the Far Eastern University and the BA Communication Arts program of
the University of the Philippines. This became the time when I started doubting
my calling as a writer. I wanted to pursue Accountancy and in my most helpless
situation, my mother asked me a striking question, “Why are you being
indecisive? Don’t you have your heart set on writing?”.
The
following day, I mailed my confirmation letter to UP and now, I could say, I
could not have chosen a better school, a better degree program, and a better
career path.
Second
element I learned essential to being a writer is humility. Words humbled me in
a very deliciously ironic manner. There are only two things I take with utmost
seriousness: my academics and writing. My writing has been misunderstood for
the longest time; people think that my poems and my short stories are mere debased
versions of already existing emotions and I only make parodies about them. While
I cannot say that accusation is completely false; I take writing very
earnestly.
Writing
is therapeutic. It’s not exactly a panacea but it gives more than the euphoria people
get from alcohol intoxication. Writing catapults me into an alternate universe;
a universe where I know I could be somebody my parents could be proud of; a universe
where I am doing not only what I think is right for me but what I know is what I
am meant to for the rest of my life. Again, this falls under the long list of trite
statements people say writers should avoid but it could not have encapsulated the
message better. Writing is not what other people outside this sacred circle say
it is; it is not a lame pastime. It is a career; it is a way of life.
However,
writing was not always inspiring for me. The power of being the gatekeeper of
which articles are to be published and kept inside the confines of our dusty,
putrid staff office got into me pretty fast. A series of articles aimed at
bashing our school’s administrative system, bashing my fathers’ enemies in the
academe, bashing my own enemies, etc. I am not proud of these. I became sorry
for using the power I had in a way that I know is not proper and for probably tarnishing
its sanctity.
It
is a composite discipline. The ability of writers to bring together a perfect concoction
of passion, pain and the tasty irony of anonymity and total emotional nudity is
illuminating. Sometimes, it is not a requisite that the writer has a full grasp
of what he or she is writing about; the motivation just has to be crystal clear.
When the motivation is clear, there will be an automated transmittal of the writer’s
intentions transcending the sturdy defenses of the page to the readers’ minds.
This
only proves that writing holds that huge amount of power. A writer can be the
priest or a priestess of reinventing what is to come in the future and making
the world have a taste of that reinvention. Writing is a form of witchcraft; it
borders between the good and the evil and it is the witch’s or the wizard’s
[writer’s] choice where to use this power and so writing becomes an act of
manipulated divination; an act of writing the future and rewriting the past.
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