Buhay Writer
I read in the amazing book, Passion Test (yeah, I’m so into positive-thinking-go-after-your-passions books nowadays) that if you’ve finally determined what it is that you want, then you will be tested. How much do you really want it?
After I closed the UNFPA Photo Journal project, I let go of my jobs as manager of Creative Services—without a moment’s hesitation, without second thoughts. Close to half a year since I resigned, there was never even a single day that I regretted my decision.
The first two months that followed my resignation were filled with back-to-back travels to places in the North and South of Luzon, and two provinces in Visayas. Had the UN not been fearful about our safety, we had a planned trip to Davao as well that was scrapped at the last minute (after all, our visit was initially scheduled at a time close to the ARMM elections—UN did not want any of their employees or consultants to be part of someone’s campaign fund, if you know what I mean).
The project timetable was just crazy. At the end of my last trip which was in Bohol, I had about five huge laundry bags of unwashed clothes (and this is without exaggeration!) Kasi dahil dikit-dikit ang mga biyahe namin, ni hindi ko na nga ina-unpack ang bags ko! I just take out the dirty clothes, replace them with clean ones, and off I’d go again! In between trips, the very short period that we’re in Manila was spent transcribing interviews, finalizing the book outline, and drafting the stories.
Nonetheless, it was not the exhaustion or the unbelievable schedule that stressed me out–and it did so in such grand manner that when the book was launched last November 12 (see our photographer and layout artist Patrick’s blog about it), I did not even bother to attend.
The reason? Never in my life had I ever felt so insulted. I honestly could not remember a single time when I seriously, seriously questioned how I fare as a writer as much as I did while we were in the middle of the writing process.
In hindsight, I guess it all just boils down to the lead writer and I having very different ideas about how the stories ought to be written. She wanted the write-ups very, very short. I did not want them long, but I wanted them long enough to be able to capture the essence of each town’s lessons. There was even one time she was correcting a sentence in one of the write-ups, she said something about “dangling modifiers.” I asked, “Ano po yung ‘dangling modifiers’?” because I really had no idea what the friggin’ term means. She said, “Paano ka naging writer kung di mo alam ang dangling modifiers?!” I just smiled, but deep inside I was thinking, “I haven’t memorized every rule in every grammar book, but I write just fine, thank you very much.”
The first few times, I felt bad. Then awful. And when I heard her tell Patrick who is also the team’s layout artist to delete the entire book introduction I wrote, which the team leader hasn’t even read and simply doesn’t trust to be okay for presentation and asked him to put in your handy Lorem Ipsum Dolor (for the sake of those unfamiliar with layout basics, this is what artists temporarily put in dummy layouts when copies are not yet available)…Gawd, I felt terrible.
At first, I questioned if I did fuck up my write-ups. Did I really come up with trash? But I re-read the drafts I submitted and tried to see them the most objective way I can. Do these really suck? A second, third, fourth look tell me they don’t. If there’s one trait I am very grateful I have is that I could be totally honest with myself. When I realize I simply fell short, I hurt myself so much more, in many different ways, than others could. Nonetheless, I also know when I deserve a pat on the back and I give myself that too.
After long (and daily) introspections, I realized that our writing styles differ because we have different work orientations. The very reason I was tapped for this project was because the initial team lineup was composed of mainly technical writers and researchers—those who put together reports, theses, analyses, etc. They contacted me because they needed a creative writer, knowing full well that the stories in a photo journal could not be written in a technical manner, lest the book would become no more than a thesis with photos.
Then I surmised that that must be the reason why it seemed to them like I’m dishing out sucky articles! Baka iba nga lang ang manner and discipline ng writing ng mga technical writers. The style they use is more formal, the style, the grammar, punctuation and everything else more stringent.
I remember the time when I was still working in an NGO. The Executive Director, Al, would tell me, in so many words, that my writing style is not up to par. Never directly, of course, but he’d always heave a long sigh or roll his eyes after reading something I wrote. Editing my articles meant ‘butchering’ them. Sometimes, the ‘corrected’ output would be nothing like what I originally wrote, with only my name in the byline left unchanged. I once wrote a script for an AVP—and I thought video-writing is already my specialty, my chance to show him that hey, I really could write! Only to have my self-esteem shattered to bits again when he brought in another writer to ‘doctor’ my work. My language is not NGO/activist-ish daw. Don’t get me wrong—Al and I had a pretty solid working relationship. I was the only one in the office who could make the usually high-strung, uptight Al laugh. He’d send me to conduct trainings in faraway provinces (Bayombong in Nueva Vizcaya, Cebu and Davao) by myself, without even glancing at my presentation, telling me, ‘Alam kong kayang-kaya mo yan!’ But when it came to my writing, he never even bothered to conceal his dissatisfaction.
Writing, just like all other art forms, is very subjective. Kaya kung hindi mo kayang lumunok ng batikos o puna o insulto, wag kang magsulat. When I was new in creative work, iniiyakan ko pa pag may umookray sa gawa ko. I used to take all corrections or dissenting opinions as personal attacks. But then, all those painful experiences taught me that I needed to toughen up. I realized early on that without a change in perspective, this chosen craft is going to kill me, literally and figuratively.
In other fields, there may be countless ways to arrive at an answer, but there is just one answer. You may be dealing with millions, billions, quintillions or whatever unimaginably high figures, using solutions that could vary anywhere from the unbelievably simple to the unbelievably complicated—but there is only one right answer. One correct amount or measure of width, length, strength, weight, radius, or density.
It is not that way with writing or any other creative work for that matter. There is no telling when you are right or wrong, when a work is good or bad.
There are lots of creative work I do not personally like, but then I think to myself, hey, they wouldn’t be published, printed or broadcast if they did not meet more than a few significant people’s approval, right? Hence, as a self-preservation strategy, I have long imbibed the classic belief that there is just no pleasing everybody. It is perhaps crucial for any writer to learn to, from time to time, set aside her writer’s ego and see if she agrees with the commentaries on her work. If it is a commissioned job, you have to apply the corrections even if your entire being vehemently disagrees. But if it is a personal article, like my rants and raves in this blog, then style that’s deliberate just goes out the window.
Writing is, for me, a form of expression. I write because I feel like I’m going to explode if I don’t. I write when I’m down. I write when I am close to bursting with sheer joy. I write when I’m angry. I write when I’m excited or just plain intrigued by something. While experiencing any heightened emotion, my instinctive reaction is to grab a pen and paper, or turn on my computer, or if neither is within reach, I get my mobile phone and save notes in the Drafts folder. But then again, maybe all this blogging—this freedom to just write whatever I want, without regard for discipline or form or structure or social niceties—has its disadvantages.
One of the good things about the UN project is that it made me realize how it’s become a bad habit of mine to not reread my work prior to submission. I guess I have become too complacent with my writing. Working on such high-pressure project, with an impossible timetable and sky-high expectations taught me that I needed to learn some good old’ discipline.
In one text message (and I don’t even understand what the hell ‘inspired’ him to text me that), the head of the field research described the last stories I submitted as “parang hindi gawa ng writer.” But do I sulk and mope and stop writing because of that? Do I call it quits and tell myself, “You’re not cut out for this! Ambisyosa!” Do I update my resume and hurry back to the world of the employed, where I am assured of income every two weeks, my health and life insured, a guaranteed pension when I’m old and gray, with an air-conditioned office and staff to lead?
Hmmm.
Perhaps someday I’ll reconsider. But for now, I’d like to give my dream another try. After all, I’ve invested way too much heart in it already, and giving up this early would be, well… a loser’s way of doing things.
Now, my next target is to take a formal writing course in UP so I could shape up. Then perhaps I’d finally understand what the hell those ‘dangling modifiers’ are!
**End note:
The real reason did not attend the book launch is that I was not even given credits for writing the stories in Chapter 1. The team leader became the book’s sole ‘Author’ (in fairness to her, sya naman sumulat nung ibang chapters). I stopped questioning how I fare as a writer after this—kasi na-realize kong kaya pala ayaw nyang gamitin yung Intro na sinulat ko kasi sya nga naman ang ‘author.’ I did not even bother asking why I was not credited for the stuff I wrote. The only rebellious thing I did was not attend the book launch. Tama na yun. Naniniwala naman ako sa karma eh.
