Personal + Writing Current Affairs Things Post

I am in deep personal shame for not following through what I said about my intention of joining the Ateneo National Writers Workshop (ANWW) last month here, and I sortof felt sad. But, just like any other failure and heartbreak, we must move on and continue to write and practice what we preach.

Some good things happened recently, though. For one, the 100: The Hundreds Project was published; one of my drabbles was chosen and included in it. Well of course I passed something. And that reminded me to talk about why I didn't pass my work for the ANWW...

Well first of all, I managed to finish the suit of three stories. It included: my thesis title story, that story about the old writer in the hospice, and that children's story about a crayon door. It was a nice triad, and I actually made an effort to think of a long collection title for the thing ("At the Door, Under the Tree, Within a Kingdom"). But when I realized that I'm running out of time to pass it because of my insistence to re-edit the entries over and over again, I decided it's best not to pass it this year.

I just recently tried passing stories to websites and calls for submissions; early April I submitted a short story for the Likhaan VI, and just this week I plucked the courage to spend (oh blasphemy! How much for the notarization? WHAT? And where's the building loca--MCKINLEY HILL? MAGTA-TAXI??) and find my way to Carlos Palanca Memorial Association to pass a really, really old piece. It was really a hassle, I admit, because of so many things which Palanca-submitters in the past must have encountered so frequently. I was actually thrilled to learn initially that they accept e-mailed submissions--which, when acknowledged, must be followed up and augmented by the submission of the hard copies, namely, 4 copies of the less-than-25-page entry, complete CV, one-age synopsis for each copy, and the notarized forms. Made me ugh a bit.

But I managed to submit, of course, and god did that felt good. Although I still felt a strange aversion to the building and the atmosphere of the place, I liked the fact that I was able to pass something I made myself, and not for something which will give back something better, like winning (although I still hope). Before that I was contemplating on my inability to pass literary stuff to contests and calls for submissions out there, particularly because back when I was still overly eager to do so, I had but a few means to scrimp and use to print out, send, have notarized, or whatever fucking submission shit activity to accomplish first to even start. I have ideas and constructed things even before, but aside from the knowledge that they are amateur works, I have nothing to produce them, money and time and freedom to just fucking pass.

Now all that's left to do is to continue doing this thang--go back to old and reworked stuff, write new ones, revise those left, and just freaking pass. Some recklessness must be put in the equation to learn a bit, I think, and reckless I shall go.

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I confess that at this point in time, I have zero writing thoughts.

I'm mostly on the prepping-up-for-the-summer-getaways mode, with not much crafting and idea-bending tendencies.

Atm, I just want to read, experience the world outside, then read again, although I'm also hoping that I'd get more stuff to write about when the right time comes again.

Also, philosophy and history are both very interesting topics for mind exercise. I recommend reading books about them while you enjoy your summer aloha.

***

Will post again when things pick up. For now, I leave you with this to think about everyday whenever you open your computer and log in into Facebook or Twitter:

"The Voice of the Internet Hegelian God will always tell you it doesn't care, but this 'god' will use your misplaced emotions for its own end--and that end is what I wish something as easily Googable as your recent breakfast."

A New Blog and Some Writing Stuff and Shit

So, I have a new blog. It's here: http://blokeblokengprosangsamangloob.tumblr.com/

I have been meaning to turn my twitter rants and random nice word plays about more rants into a writing exercise of some sort, and I compiled pretty much of those things in a single word document last month. I was hoping to write each down a sheet of sticky paper to be posted on train stations, but I stalled the plan and now I thought of posting them online instead.

I turn to measured and thought-of rants to relieve the stress of continuous work writing requirements, and I found an opportunity to siddown and make it happen now.

Of all the blogs I'm keeping I guess this one's gonna be the most wicked and raw, so don't expect too much. :))

Story Crafting Thoughts #8970

I WENT TO BAGUIO LAST WEEKEND BITCHES!

Haha. So there's me feeling extremely cold and suicidal because prior to this photo op near a deadly ledge I was listening to Taylor Swift's "Safe and Sound". I know, I know, this is being sentimental about a book, but they really did a good job on the marketing department and--

Yeah. So I went to Baguio City for the PMA graduation, and obviously I took only a few shots of the cadets because it would go to waste without a decent cam (refer to my facebook album). And it also sucked that we were not allowed to go and  loiter inside the Academy grounds on the graduation day (we went there the day before) itself so we all just stayed at the cottage where we were billeted.

However, I took the liberty to walk around the Navy Base road without telling my officemates and I found myself entering the Botanical Gardens at 8 AM in the morning. It was refreshing to see so many kinds of flowers (the botanical kind of flowers, ok) and structures I rarely see in the city, so I basked in the cold and green-smelling atmosphere until lunch time.

After lunch, I went around and tried walking to the town proper but was stopped by one of my officemates who was riding a taxi back to our billeting cottage. She tagged me along and we, with her kid and companion, went to Wright Park, then Burnham Park, and then to the Ukayan place and Hilltop St. to buy more stuff (I added FIVE pants and THREE polo shirts to my pile of ukay-ukay dress from there). By the time we reached the cottage it was already dark, around 7 something PM.

Anyway, this post is not about my Baguio trip, but something I've been thinking about lately. Being away from the city really declogs my brain cells (but does the opposite for my nose) and helps think about my writing endeavors.

If that's not a signal yet then I think you are dumb enough to expect I'm going to talk more about Baguio. Get lost if you are. This is not a travel blog. Never intended it to be one.

***

I was able to revise my new semi-biographical meta short story about an old writer in a home for the aged while up there. I think it was the weather's fault; it was a dark, grey sky morning type of weather always, and I can't help but feel giddy during those three days because every opportunity to sit down presented moments to brainstorm and write. You see, I work well, very well, when it's cold outside and I'm struggling with the cold by running my mind engine, if there's such a thing.

Now after a day there I was able to come up with better supporting details to the story, which by this time, has already become a story-within-a-story kind of story. Fuck yeah. But it has a heart-wrenching twist in the end, although I'm not sure if it could work out for everyone.

I'm preparing to include this in the suit of three short stories I'm planning to pass for the Ateneo National Writers Workshop, which also includes other semi-fantastic realist short stories with dark overtones (that's the best pretentious classification I can come up with atm). The first of the three is the story "The Last Days of the Firefly Tree According to John", a revised version of the titular short story of my thesis collection last year, and another one which would be a part of the Chaos Worlds collection of short stories, set in a working fantasy universe where I'm situating all my fantastic stories in. It is entitled "The Crayon Door", inspired by the chalk door which opens to the dining hall of the Pale Man from the movie "El Labirinto del Fauno" (Pan's Labyrinth).

Anyway, going back to the detail clarity, I realized that while one continues to write a working short story persistently, connections between things in the story itself come up and fill in the gaps unnoticed during the initial stages of writing. "The Story of the Flying King", for example, started as a metaphorical story I wrote one hot summer night (recent) after waking up from a strange dream involving flying and certain secret and not-so-secret crushes (don't ask). I finished the five-page story after four hours, and then I asked some people to comment on it. Apparently the narrative was too strong but too vague it could pass as a rootless kind of story; you don't know where the hell it'll bring you and you don't know why the fuck as well. But after thinking over the entire thing, I thought of a workable angle, and from then on the "oh this would work" and "fuck that's it!" filler details came rushing in my head endlessly.

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Right now I am struggling with "The Crayon Door" and another story which I'd try to pass for the Likhaan VI compilation. Zero progress with the latter, but I'm enjoying the former, especially because it is like writing a twisted story for children. Adventure-ish, fantastic, and carnival-dark.

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Will update again after I get another epiphany attack.