WRITER UNLEASHED

I always knew that I have some inkling to write. Though, lack of exposure had always pulled me back to my shell whenever I tried crawling out of my hole.

Grammar, choice of words and readers' acceptance were always my biggest fear. I have always told myself that i should just write to express myself rather than impress my audience. 

Then I realized, I shouldn't be doing a novel but a journal instead.  

Challenges were posted everywhere. 

When I started twitter, I never regarded that as a medium to get ideas from published and aspiring writers across the globe. 

I found myself on a sidewalk of the publishing universe. 

I just thought of the world as a 4X4 box with small players on it. I came from a small place and favored a few that was why I regarded myself as one empty cap of pen. Useful yet useless at the same time.

Growing up had opened my eyes to the vastness and opportunities the world has to offer. I never thought I would be able to smell the winter but I did. Yet, urge to write was suppressed because new surroundings had converted my desire into something of forcing myself to belong in a bigger box at first.

I squeezed myself to be in the middle. Dance through the lime light yet I felt so lost and bewildered. 

The world would never feed me of something I always wanted to ingest but rather provide me an array of circumstances where I could strengthen my backbone and harden my knees to walk extra miles. 

Sometimes, chances were seen as opposing pillars but passing through had given me enough notions to gnaw on. 

I had created a surreal world once I stumbled on crashed stones. Bleeding, I functioned as if I was not. Bandaged, limping and broke, I defied gravity. I never deprived my imagination the depth of hollowness. I escaped the reality as if it was just normal. Everybody was so busy fixing their beds while I had been elsewhere  hosting a party for the bees and butterflies.

I lazied around the flower bed. Sang with the hum of the crossing wind and hopped with grasshoppers in the meadow. 

My father was dying and everything had collided. 

Did people see my smile falter, never! Did they see me shed tears, never! How could they? I am my fairy's reality. I had put up so much and I had defied gravity when it tried pulling me to the core of pain, anger and emptiness.

Everything turned into grey. I headed a narrow and winding tunnel. Camouflaged with a feign bravery I walked through the unknown path. Grabbed an unknown hand and never let go. That hushed voice promising a deliverance of tranquility. 

It was a tedious journey. I had scraped myself several times, I stumbled yet someone offered to carry me.

Before long, there was that pin size light at the end of the darkness. I succumbed myself to a sprint and chase the glow. As I approached, I caught myself panting, drenched with mixtures of sweat and tears. 

I was awakened by a soft tugging. And a certain thought was nagging me to go on. As I rubbed the sleep away from my tired eyes, I felt the tears damping my arm where I have laid my face onto. 

I was seated on my kitchen table. With plates turned upside down. Cold food and half emptied glass of water with a pea size cube of ice.  The computer screen registered a few lines of what I had written before I yielded to slumber. 

Six months past already and I was still struggling to finish the book I started last November when I tried escaping the dungeon of depression.

I needed to finish the book for that will surely free me from the depth of emptiness. 

My father died before Christmas. 

The bells chimed softly and tagged my heart gradually out of misery. 

Writing is one channel I realized I could stay clear of dejection. 

I run around the box and found I could barge myself out. 

It is a vast universe.

I lacked the knowledge and protocol of what to do. I just knew I have to spill out the wild fantasies that I have caged somewhere in my consciousness. 

I was so vocal about being serious with my writing though nobody knew, it has been my therapy and escape (now you do). 

A publishing workshop was offered locally and I gave 5 hour of my one Saturday.  

A newly integrated company called Bronze Age Media organized the workshop.

I realized, there will always be people who would selflessly lend other people their knowledge on something outside Google, Wikipedia and social media. These fellows who will boost others' confidence. Unknowingly, these people have touched lives and one of those was mine. 

I am seeing a new light. 

The encouragement and inspiration were something to hold on to. 

The knowledge that dreams do come true.

From the book I am currently writing, a YA Fantasy/Romance/ Psych, I do a lot of research to give the story a sense of reality and to touch others' lives. I just aim to make others' dream and to give them a clearer picture of themselves.

I visualized Kendra David, my female lead character as someone who will answer all the questions that I have about life.  The idea of having fairies and their presence in our everyday lives, acknowledged or not, and the power of love.

I am currently working on a title: PASSAGE and last night, it occurred to me that I wanted to tell a story some more involving Kendra and thought of doing a Trilogy instead. Conceptualized, plotted (I didn't do plotting before but thanks to the workshop, now I do) and I already have the titles for the 3 books. PASSAGE, PATHWAY and BACK DOOR. 

Reality will always bite me to the core but I am managing through the love around me and the encouragement from my family and friends. 

I believe in the power of imagination. I write everything that comes to mind. I have note pads with me always or type it in my BlackBerry. Bullets. Raw. Ideas. And yes, I am writing a novel.

There will always be people who never falter to give out support, solicited or not. 

Yet, I am always afraid of rejection but now I have grafted myself a thick skin to lessen the blow.