broke but not broken

Writing became a door for new questions. When I took up the Creative Writing Course here in UP Mindanao, the one thing that was in my mind was my passion in writing. I love writing.

Then reality struck.

People who learned the nature of my course almost have the same question: “Do you expect to get rich on that?” Some would ask me what’s the job I’m most likely to get. To both inquiries, I was speechless. Hands down, at that time I had no good answer to give them.

Here comes the “Parents’ Sacrifice” Card. You should have taken BS Nursing. Nursing has become a very intriguing course here in the Philippines. The majority of students who graduate from the secondary education are most likely to proceed in that course. One main reason: Because it is in demand in other countries.

Yes, being in a Third World Country has been a very challenging life for us Filipinos. This instilled the desire for some of us to grab the easiest way to earn dollars and to get out of the country in the process.

Though I share the same fate of my countrymen, I have broken away from the trend and pursued my passion in writing. So now I face this dilemma, how will I use this craft in earning a substantial amount of money?

Until now, I am still finding new ways to incorporate my writing in earning money, trying to change that door of questions to a door of opportunity. I’ve been searching in the net and I have stumbled in the system of blogging. I also am submitting some of my works to local publications. Both ways, I’m still in the process of exploring.

I am also thinking of publishing little children’s stories and small time booklets. Children’s Literature is a very subtle and complex art that actually takes a whole course in UP, so I guess I shouldn’t have my hopes high yet.

I don’t mind ghost writing or filling up texts in websites. I’m also interested in writing for comic books or graphic works (that’s been like my childhood dream). I could draw, but not that well. I can write though.

Lastly, I could also be of some use in editing work. I’m familiar to the pressure in journalism as I was once a part of a student publication back in my secondary years. I’m fairly good in English. Oh, I have lapses here and then. Who doesn’t, right?

If you have any insights or ideas, don’t hesitate to help a friend here.

dude, doodle

Doodle Art is quite a great hobby almost parallel to writing. They say that a picture is worth a thousand words, if that’s so then how many words does a topsy-turvy crazy picture is worth? That’s the beauty of beauty of doodling.

Unlike poster making and painting, doodling doesn’t need harmony, balance and inner meaning. It is pure creativity and imagination. Only one rule: DRAW.

After learning about it in the television (it was endorsed in a kid’s art show), I tried to think of the idea of complete chaos as a work of art. Just like abstract illustrations, doodles seem to have their own stories in them but doesn’t exactly give it directly.

I tried collaborating doodling with my writing. And it actually corresponds with each other. They’re both art for one thing. It actually reminds me of impressionism. Everything in detail. Everything in chaos.

If you can see a doodle. You’d see a crowded canvas with different images jam-packed together. And it’s great. In my doodles, there are no laws. The Law of Gravity for instance, is inexistent. You’d see boulders hanging in the middle of the paper. Fishes with man’s legs. Eyes scattered all over the paper. You could just imagine the horrible and wonderful worlds I created in those canvas.

Try it. You’ll see.

photo-rature

Photography and Literature will surely merge this Friday. It’s going to be UP’s Alumni Homecoming. We, the sophomores, are tasked to create the boring little hole which they call the Reading Room into a groovy crib full of BA English things to live up to the spirit of the course.

It has been tradition that the students of the BAE course are not very sociable people. Even from the first batches. We were never really that bonded. I really don’t know why. Oh well. I guess it’s how traditions work. See my say about it in Volting In.

What really is baking my noodle is the fact that we are cramming to come up with a great booth worthy of our predecessors’ approval. We plan on taking pictures with one-liners from famous works from famous artists, hence, the merging of photography and literature. We’re starting to take pictures in a bit.

Wish us luck, we’ll be needing it.

writing with the self

I wrote Red and Purple Darkness for my flash fiction in CW101. It’s a story about Dondi, 16, who along with his Ate Nadia, escapes a life of abuse from their father. The piece is talks about Dondi’s inability to escape from being his own father as he himself beats him up when he went back to molest his sister. The story is quite violent and gory in a way.

Yes, it’s been bothering me for quite some time now. I’ve been writing bloody stories for a long time now. The story Chained Girl is I think the first story that I’ve been able to showcase to the “elite” in the Iligan National Writers Workshop. Sure enough, it received piercing criticisms.

The panelists and the fellows encouraged me and suggested that I read more of Edgar Allan Poe, Stephen King, etc. writer’s works. Gothic, Dark Romance, Romantic, those kinds of genre seem to fascinate me in my major classes.

Usually it is the parents who fall victimized in the end of my stories. There is also a masochistic and sadistic feeling in my works. Hatred is a common theme and Violence a usual concept.

No, I never have been subject to any domestic violence in my home. There are however heated conversations, swearing and even minor fights. Nothing serious, in general standards. Not enough for the involvement of the local law enforcement.

I guess it is in the stories where I throw out my emotions over the struggles I encounter in my life. I’ve been told in one of my majors that the writer is actually writing about himself in all his works. No matter how indirectly, it is still about the writer. Of course.

That creeps me out. Am I really that demented and twisted? I’m not a psychopath, no. I guess it only one of the undesirable pangs of being a teenager. I still have my rationality and sanity intact.

Violence is one thing that is deprived from us since we were really young. No cartoons with violence, no manga and anime! Except for Voltes Five. I guess I feel amazed of the concept of pain, hatred and fear (the emotions I usually feel) being expressed through violence.

In another name, I made a flash fiction about an unusual rain; instead of water falling, yellow flower petals fell. It was titled Alm Rain, it was a story about a child refusing to take part in enjoying the wonderful event because of pride.

I feel pleased in writing Fantasy fiction. It has a flavor that I could not describe. Maybe, I appreciate the stories of the unreal. I love Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. I enjoy reading adventures that I know does not exist (or so I think). I guess what I really wanted is escape from the bitter realities in life.

I enjoy the concept of Imagery. I want pictures that shows the dark, strange, odd, grotesque and horrifying. I simply am amazed. I loved comics but I can’t afford them. I enjoy admiring disturbing paintings. There was a time when I stared at Juan Luna’s Spolarium.

I could be a Romantic. You think?