ENLIGHTENED

WHY?

Sometimes, this simple question requires diversified response.  

I do not consider myself a writer yet, in the sense of being published or tagged as one. I am a hobbyist. And I really love writing just like loving eating a spam. Not often but addicted. 

As you might read from my previous blogs, I am an aspiring writer from the land of English as the second language.

Writing a YA Fantasy and my choice of discussing a bit of science is quite intimidating, ambitious and tedious especially I have multiple of duties to attend to. But I have came to a point of redefining what do I really intend to do.

1) I love writing. Yes, I have mentioned that.I always share my works through Twitter and Facebook regardless I get feedback or not and I feel good about it. I am satisfied with the fact that I really could write something. Not everybody is given that talent to write, I am not so talented though but I have that gift.

2) I am always afraid of  rejection, and even I might be so openly admitting it, that I am prepared to accept it, I am not. My self-esteem is just flourishing inch by inch. Not unless I'll see my name on the list that I will probably say I am a step higher than I was formerly.

3) I am not a call center agent nor from a well verse family who speaks Spanish or English all her life. I use language which I am comfortable using and I write in English language better off than speaking. But, but.. Writing in full texts, aiming a 60K word count novel is very ambitious. I use Google a lot, Wikipedia, thesaurus and all available references online. There were times that you have to translate Filipino sentences to English with some mixed up. It tied me. Sometimes, I feel like having an infarct in my brain. 

4) I didn't abandon my YA but I have taken a holiday writing it. I have ceremoniously sworn I will finish it by June but seems like it would take me longer. I have ongoing research for the novel, I intend to make a trilogy and I really stabbed my Excalibur deep down to a protruded stone in my neighbor's backyard.

5) I used to write romance when I was yet inexperienced and naive, presently, that genre is still strumming up and down my nerves and as a filler to my idle YA holiday, I am writing an installment love story titled Romantic Bones published through my wordpress blogsite.

6) One big struggle is having that desire to invade Amazon and other publishing sites for my first novel and succeeding ones yet I am stranded somewhere.

7) Criticism is like dropping lemon to a wound. Good to cry out. I easily fold once bruised but I think I have to be strong for my dreams to come true. Two things: criticism to shatter you entirely or pieces of that pebbles to make patches to my crackling confidence. It hurts being chastised but looking at the glass half full will surely push me to fill the other half. I am a dreamer and I have to wake up.

8) As much as I want to focus with my writing, I can not though the happiness it brings me once I am done with a piece is very heart warming just like watching Something Borrowed over and over again. Freeing you from the restraint of who you really are. This is what I love but...


9) Mina Esguerra, a published author, I considered a mentor, had invited me to write an article for a new blog they are brewing. I was in awe and still am.. It may not be glued on my face but the smile never leaves my heart. That is one pat on the back.


10) It is simply a hobby but some of my loyalists told me to make it public. And I am here. One good thing happened yesterday was our Pastor invited me to write for our Church Journal. Oh.My.Goodness! I write. I am good but can I really do this? But for the love of God, yes I will. I will be seeing God's grace once my talents unfold for His glory. I think, I have to glorify Him with this talent first before I can probably grace the world. Just a thought..*wink*

Yes, I am writing because I believe I can do it. I do not see it as something I can earn a living from but to share this God given talent I have locked up for long. 

Why?

Simply, because I can!

SUPERWOMAN

Meet Digna.

She is 57 years old and a widow.

Her husband left her when all their children are already pursuing the outside world out of the confines of their home.

So timely that she did not have to think of school and household expenses, allowances and how to feed hungry mouths.

Digna met her Prince Charming when she was 22. 

Barrio girl Digna was smitten by a buoyant and persistent 29 year old man with an expensive smile, knelt on his knees to have the most sought 'yes' from her.

Rogelio, the prince charming, came from a well-off family with a promising business but due to circumstances, the business collapsed and left them empty handed.

They started their lives as a young couple when Digna turned 23. 

They lived  a simple life. 

They managed a humble beginning on their own.

They lived in a parcel of land favored by Rogelio's parents.

Their love blossomed and gave them 5 children, 3 princesses and 2 princes.

Having a big family had not faltered the couples faith to bridge the necessities to live. 

Digna handled the finances well.

Rogelio who had pursued to start his own business in the public market with a minimal capital had put enough food on the table.

He attended the business while Digna tended the kids.

Due to demand of the gradually growing business, Digna had also spared some time to help her husband.

The kids were left on their own.

Soon after Digna's siblings helped with watching the kids.

The couple had taught their kids to be self-reliant. 

Their kids went to school without school service or nanny to start with.

Family budget was so tight and primary goal was to feed seven mouths including some of the relatives.

Digna managed to squeeze finances well though she wasn't able to provide the whims of her children especially her girls.

With scarcity of resources, their children had finished schools with flying colors. 

Rogelio would always brag the achievements of her children.

Their 2nd and third children had to leave for college 4 hour drive away from home.

Digna was in deep financial debt without her husband's knowledge to support her children's collegiate needs.

Rogelio was so principled and proud that he had sent all five of his children to college with only his business to support to yet he was not aware that Digna had business on the sides.

Being a mother, Digna couldn't afford her children going to school with smiling shoes and torn bags contrary to her husband who only saw full plates and blinded with other stuff.

Digna was the ever present parent  during her children's school recognition and graduations.

Digna emerged as a strong woman. 

She would fight against what other people would say about her children.

She stood her ground well with full battle gears when her family's at stake.

Sometimes hearing her reason was not so cleverly spoken yet a very heroic remarks shielding her children.

They neglected the fact that as they were growing old, their children were also growing up.

They never thought that their children would someday leave their homes, would turn their backs and start a family of their own.

Soon enough, they were chasing grandchildren.

It shocked them at the beginning but the new addition to their family had given them a joy to behold in their ageing hearts.

As their children was busy growing up, they were already growing old and Rogelio, so robust and strong was hit by an illness that collapsed on the family.

Digna managed to stay strong and composed while tending her ailing prince charming.

Rogelio who had been a strength of the family, a pillar and a gem crumbling in her hold.

He had thrown unreasonable tantrums and irritable complains yet Digna paid him with patience, understanding and selfless devotion.

Their children saw all the drama.

The love of a wife to a sick husband.

For six months, Digna had forgotten herself yet she managed to be a double faced woman.

A wife and a mother.

While her children needed her to be supportive and strong, she coped with portrayal of such characters.

I am their 2nd child.

I saw how mama had been so strong despite her world was already collapsing on her feet.

I saw her consistently changing her disguise, from strong to supportive to super woman.

A daughter could not look up at any other woman with a mother filling all the blanks.

She didn't give me abundance yet that insufficiency taught me what I really need.

Strong-willed, supportive, selfless and devoted wife and mother.

A woman who offered her youth to her prince charming and her family.

I may have questioned her authority several times, compared her to some of the mothers I have known but being a mother myself now, I could attest that I have a very good mother.

Children might always neglect their mother's sacrifices while they are growing up but who she is will always reflect on what becomes of her children. 

A mother's love will always be our shining light that will guide us until that light will fade to its horizon.

Not everyone is given a chance to be a parent, but everyone is given a chance to experience a mother's love.

To my one and only SUPERWOMAN, Digna, HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

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.

PHEROMONES

It seems males couldn't really resist the invitation once a female emits pheromones.

There is that certain area in the brain which acknowledges this desire to have the release and send male into a riotous androgynous collision.

I have recently and currently watched that happen right under my nose.

I have two male dogs, a Shih Tzu which turned 3 years last March 9 and a 6 month old Golden Retriever.

The Shih Tzu was already betrothed for the next heat of our neighbor's female Shih. We have feasted on that idea and prepped our boy for that rendezvous.

It seems our boy knew about that life changing encounter soon to take place.

Dogs' mind work a fraction like a human does. They have the same competitive quality and the hunger of belongingness yet their level of consciousness is just higher than plants and lower than humans, apparently.

When Peeta, the Golden Retriever arrived home, Kevs, the Shih Tzu showed jealousy and anxiety of having another male dog in the pack. Kevs peed everywhere, marking his territory, a dog's way of letting the newbie know, "This is my house, my pack, I am the alpha male here"

Since Peeta is a large breed and higher in maintenance's cost, I see to it that both their needs were on top of my priorities.

Having a dog is like nurturing a child.

One day, I came home carrying a Dental chew bone primarily for Peeta since he was on the teething stage of his puppy-hood. I cut a small portion for Kevs and the latter had guarded his share with a bulwark. He then showed aggression whenever Peeta came near him judging the bigger dog might steal the bone from him.

He fought, snarled and defended his territory under our dining table. He manned the perimeter with his possession securely hidden at the back of one of the dining chairs. Kevs even clawed Peeta and drew the Golden away yet since Peeta is still a puppy, he didn't seem to care and thought that the Shih was just playing with him.

A very pure and sincere unadulterated trait of a pup like a child.

Until such time that ants had also marched up to share the goodie that I decided to throw the bone away.

For the first few weeks, the Shih seemed to be very territorial. He just observed Peeta while stretching and lazying around. Peeta was just a pup, what did we expect?

Time and time, the Shih outgrown his indifference with the newbie since Peeta had tried protecting him a lot of times when they are taken out for a walk. Kevs, given his size was always bullied around especially by the Aspins, a common mixed breed dog, that just roam and wander about the area.

So, discrimination also happens with these creatures. But since Peeta joined the pack, the 15-pound, heavy boned Golden Retriever served as Kevs' "muscle" having both dog and human groups cautious as they walk along and take a stroll. Mind that Peeta is 6-month old and still a puppy but never looked or barked like one.

A couple of weeks ago, a neighbor offered his female Shih for betrothal to our virgin Shih who only hit stuffed toys.

The rendezvous will soon transpire in a month's time.

Three days ago, I arrived home and only Peeta welcomed me while Kevs was tied at the kitchen door. He was panting and tongue was out as if he came from a long walk. Peeta was looking so relaxed so I decided something was wrong with the Shih since Peeta eyed me like saying I-have-not-run-in-the-park yet.

After dinner, Kevs was tailing Peeta wherever he went. He was like a fly hovering over a poop. Yes, very persistent and consistent. Fortunately, the Golden didn't see it as annoying but a playful act instead. Probably, something was lifted from Peeta's chest with the acceptance of the older dog.

And then there was this disturbing occurrence. While Peeta was lying on the couch, Kevs joined him panting. Then Kevs tried riding Peeta. We tried to laugh at first.

After another day or two, Kevs behavior had alarmed us.

There is a female Shih living near the park where the two dogs usually walked. The female Shih is actually in heat and it had brought our boy into some frantic demeanor.

Kevs now perceived Peeta not a newbie, not even a brother but someone he could find his heat released on. He rides on Peeta whenever and wherever could.  Peeta on the other hand found Kevs behavior to his advantage and play with him.

Disturbing behavior, yes, yet it is always the hormones that send them to consciousness that this is not just a male world.

Female and her pheromones play crucial role in this world.

Try asking yourself this question, in this world, what is the first role of women, pheromones or not?

Male is not male not with the male hormones, female will always have the advantages. Whenever, wherever.

Today, the female in-heat-Shih is not yet knocked down yet a lot of male dogs are panting like our boy.

Was I talking about you, no, I was referring to animal kingdom, was I not?

(Image from eHow: Pheromones)

CLIFF HANGER

It is not an easy journey. I succumbed to a challenge and it seems I can not sustain yet I am still hanging and ultimately moving forward, inch by inch.


Probably, what holds me somewhere is the fact that I really wanted to make this first novel in full English a blast. I started with just a lengthy post in FB conceptualizing a not-so-traditional love story of two young hearts. Separated because of circumstance and after 5 years reunited. The guy for luck of better words to say it, somehow, denied his feelings to this girl who has been head over heels infatuated with him. The story was narrated through third person's perspective, for me, to be able to jump from head to head and not to limit my readers through one story teller yet I felt there were some kind of complications, or it's just me. I do not plot, I just write freely. 


I always love story-telling, you could read about that from my previous posts. Due to evolution of needs, wants and desires, my writing skill was soon forgotten though at times I really wanted to brag about it but due to lack of exposures I had kept that little talent lurked somewhere. 


Then, there was a challenge posted by Rochelle Melander, a 26-day novel writing challenge. My dormant writer self was awakened and aroused. I dared myself to write a novel. In English this time. English is not our primary language in our country and we do not converse straight English at home so this is a very big challenge, indeed.


I thought I was just going to write a non-traditional but still a boy-meets-girl-conflict-resolution-happily-ever-after novel but one afternoon as I'd explore the vastness of my imagination, I caught myself researching on multiple personality disorder. Then, I realized, it will be some conflicting schizophrenia type and so I trashed the idea and explored some more. As I typed, I came to one kingdom of butterflies and I researched on metamorphosis. I came with the idea of unconscious and subconscious and how they work. Also there's the existence of some religious elements, thanks to Dante's Inferno. Then as I read back, I had already reached 6 chapters with 25K word count. 


I just don't know if I was still on the right track or not. I visited blogs of some published writers and I subscribed with Paul Dorset's. His blogs on tips for aspiring authors were really big help. 


I intend to write this first novel up to 60K word count and yet it seems I have so many ideas I want to discuss though I am also aware that as neophyte as I am I need to offer a shorter first novel until such time that I already have created a name in publishing.


It's not easy. 


I have complicated plots and I am really contemplating to finish the novel by June. Lorna Suzuki once said, "it's good to have a timeline" and yes! I will really finish what I have started. 


There were days that I couldn't write anything and I felt so dumb though ideas were spilling from my active mind. Writer's block? I just couldn't understand that concept. Probably, it was due to some conflicting emotions that I have. There was a time my novel was stuck to Chapter 7 for 2 weeks. Not moving. Nah-duh! But published authors and aspiring writers in Twitterverse were very helpful enough to guide me get through with that gap. Thanks to James Jackson for the words of wisdom about finishing a book: "Write everyday. A thousand words are not bad and even 100 words are still considered a progress." Not verbatim but same thought.


Anyway, the bottom line is that, there are a lot who aspired, published and now successful. We may not came from the same skin but everyone of us was given a special talent. Mine is raw and yet to be cultivated. I once succumbed to one's challenge, I didn't meet the 26 day requirement but hey I still have extra 26 days this month and another in June. Yes?  


I just need a pat on the back and good words to feed my soul because I will always have that feeling of hanging on a cliff. 

FAITH

Seeing the long and winding road
Telling yourself to go on
You are dragging your tired and soiled feet
Sink to the soft sand and withering grass
You fall on your knees
You struggle to get up
Yet your body deny you the strength
Harrow and anguish 
You weep and lament
Looking at the clear blue sky
Blinding light and scorching heat
You summon your core up
You manage to stand on one leg
A smile softly lingers
You gather yourself up
Just to sink back
Face down to the dirt
Kneeling with hands clasp together
You look up once more
And gaze bravely
At the blazing sun
You move your lips for a few
Tears fall down your tainted face
And a word escape your lips
The audible sound of "Amen!"

FRAGMENTS

SECLUSION

Staring blankly

Seeing darkness

From the corner

Of the secluded tree

I finally understood

The essence of a companion

I should have called up

Someone to borrow his ears

Yet everyone was to his oblivion state

I’d rather sit and wait

Just like old days

If only I made choices

Precisely the way I imagined

Then now I’ll be somewhere else

Singing a melody

And cradled by a Prince,

Who sings the tunes for me.

REVERIE

I maybe small, I maybe plain

But all else I knew are from deep within

I am scarred and raw

Yet wanted to start anew.

I stumbled into a dark filthy alley

Struggled to free from the shame and mockery

I stood up, craning my neck high

No one could tell if I was just hiding a cry.

I walked passed a busy street

Wearing a stiletto of confidence

I smiled timidly and I nodded just once

I was shielded with a fake self-assurance.

If only I didn’t fall back

And consumed all the dust

If only I regarded myself high

And didn’t just blinked and sigh.

I maybe small

But I am not plain

I fight back now

Yet I am still cowardice.

Blinded at a standstill

But I’ll stand on my ground

I’ll be fighting my way out

From the harshness of where’ve I been.

Yet if only I can free myself

From the restrain of uncertainty

If only I can put the world inside my hand

And let butterflies dance to be free.

If only, I can open these eyes to the truth

If only, I can use my mouth to speak

If only, I am capable to fight just like what I’ve thought

But I can not, I am just a delusion.