"Associative Looseness"

I finished writing my original screenplay this week. It's somewhere here in my blog and I'll give whoever finds a tap on the shoulder :)

So here goes. The story was about two lovers on the process of breaking up. Will they separate or will they stay together?

I asked my friends to read it. I asked for their technical and creative opinion. But only 1 out of the 6 friends I asked replied with a positive comment. Now that got me thinking, AM I BAD WRITER? And then one friend said that I am just proud of my stories that’s why I asked (forced) them to read it – of course I am. But then again, AM I GOOD WRITER?

I ponder with this thought lots of time in the past. I was afraid to let others read what I’ve written because I don’t know if they would like it or not. I had a very low self-esteem. I know I excel in some areas; I even wanted to become a journalist before. I know I can come up with any technical write-up about anything - but when it comes to the arts, creative writing especially – something would hit my ruckus existence even with just a hint of criticism.

It was only during college at UP that I got the courage to share my story. It was actually received well, very well that my class went on to perform my play onstage, with tickets! I was really proud of myself, got a good review from my professor, kudos from my classmates, and encouragement from friends. Life was starting for me.

But still, I was hesitant to share more of stories. I guess it comes with your being young and fragile, I don’t know how to survive in the outside world. I was told people outside the university were cruel and they would step down on you any chance they get. I was scared. Terrified. So I hid my poems, I placed passwords for my stories in the computer…then at times I forget to get back to it…eventually I stopped.


Other things occupied my mind. But every now and then inspiration strikes me and I would doodle some lines on my notebook, my book, tissue paper or any availble writing material I get my hands on. It didn’t matter to me before that I displaced those sheets of papers, that I lost my notebook or my book. Posterity and collection meaned nothing to me – nobody would want to read it anyways.

As years go by I evolved into a more mature woman. With enough self-esteem to get me by – I was able to understand the meaning of every deepest statements; I shrugged off my shoulders with a boulder of criticisms; I learned how to save lives…

Then I remembered my stories and poems. Hidden. Lost. Insignificant.

I decided to save my dying creativity. At least for my own sake. I continued writing Part Two’s of my stories; I compiled my saved poems on my PC; and I started writing new stories, new poems, new insights, haikus, comics, etc…and things just like this article. This gave me a new outlook in life. I didn’t care anymore what other people would say about my work, I cared for the improvement of my written art. And their opinions and comments helps me mold my works into something better.

I guess you could say I grew a thicker skin. What matters to me now is that I can touch lives with my stories; I can open their eyes into the most insignificant of situations and convey the feelings of loneliness; that leap of faith; that victorious dance.

As I was browsing through Rainier Marie Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet, I got this incredulous idea that I don’t need other people to review my work. That I should write for myself not for other people – TRUE. I actually sent a text message to my (forced) friends that I no longer require their opinion and that I can take away their privilege (see This Is My Galaxy), etc…

Then I came to realize- yes, I write for myself; I write so that I can escape, build a whole new world apart from this hellhole; to immortalize my thoughts, to express my feelings, to waste time – but then, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone take that journey with you? To have someone to talk to while trying to escape from the ridiculousness of reality? And to have someone read your feelings and then smile?

In short, I’m reaching out to YOU, the reader.

Reading is essential for your well-being. Do it everyday. Exercise your brain.