Writing

Short Story
May 8, 2012


Writing


He wanted to be poet. He never wanted to be a writer.


But later he learned he had to write poems to be a poet and he needed to write. But he was never comfortable writing in another language rather than his native tongue-Tagalog.

So, when they offered elective subjects in high school, he chose Pilipino as an elective in journalism. He wrote poems and he put his heart on it.

Unluckily he had a journalism teacher who plays favorites. She never printed a single poem he wrote or article he has written. But everything that the two other classmate of his wrote, she published in the Pilipino high school newspaper.

But he was not discouraged. He played along even to the point of being mediocre and insulted.

But the last of his tether went off in his third year. He was running for valedictorian, the only chance that he can go to college for free. He cannot afford low grades even his electives. Those were counted and averaged.

So he made a hard choice. Even to the point that it hurt him, he dropped his Pilipino electives. He had to stop writing poems.

But true to the saying, a windows open when the door is closed on you,” One of his friends who was the incoming editor of the English school paper offered him a slot.

“ You are good in sport, you loved sports, why not write and be the sports reporter for our paper.” An offer he readily accepted.

He was a sports writer for a year and to his surprise, he was asked by their adviser to be the sports editor of their high school paper for the next year. And he liked it because it was an excuse for him to go and watch the games and be excused from his classes.

Later, when there was a need for articles, his friend who was the literary editor asked him;

“Bok, we need a filler, can you write something—a poem or an essay about any movie you have watched. A movie review of any movie you have watched.”

And he liked it. And they liked what he wrote. He writes as he writes.

But still he is not happy for he feels he cannot express what he feels in another language. He still yearns to write in Tagalog.

In college he stopped writing. Kept himself busy with school until he became involved with the Pilipino club. There he met the famous Pilipino poets and writers, both old and young and his passion for Pilipino was enflamed.

This time, when the First Quarter Storm came, he became an activist until he met an activist who was very instrumental to his being in the movement. He was recruiting him from high school until college and he became one of them. He asked him about something he can never forget.

“ You are a good speaker, why not write?”

“ I don’t have the gift for it. And besides, I just want to talk."

“If great people did not write, we will have nothing to read and discuss. Remember that. I know you love reading, then learn to love writing.”

“But you know I am an introvert. I don’t want to be like Alan Poe or Shelly who exposed themselves and their feelings. I am a private person.”

“Then write about the society. What change you want and convince people about the change you want to happen.” He was floored with that.

“ People will remember how good you speak. But they will remember you more if they can read what you write. We don't know, you might be another Mao or Lenin in the future. ”

He ended smiling, knowing that he will think about it.

His first try to write an essay in Pilipino. He joined an essay writing contest for the first time.

He was with his friends, all Pilipino writers and they were engaged in a bitter debate about the winner in that essay writing contest. He was surprised to find out they were the judges in that university wide contest.

“ I am still against declaring that writer the winner we do not know him.” Said one of his friends.

“ Well, that is why we will only know them by numbers. That is to avoid partisanship” one of his high school friends declared.

“ But what if he is not one of ours. If he is not an activist or an ND like us. It will be a shame if we let a no-activist win. ”. The older guy said. He was the son of a famous Pilipino poet.

“Hey”, he told them. “Can you tell me what is the title of the piece you are arguing.”

When they told him he laughed and said: “Don’t worry, It is I who wrote it.” And he laughed aloud.

“ Well, that settled the case, I knew it…the style was familiar. ” his high school friend laughed the loudest.

“We never knew you can write that well. Congratulations!” and they all hugged him.

Most of his life . he wrote in Pilipino and other dialects and very little in English. But every time he wrote he remembered him.

He still remembers his Pilipino teacher who rejected him and others who help and encourage him to write.

Yes, now he must have to write in English. For him, writing is not only a gift but a passion. He learned that one must have passion and love to write.

For him that is that is writing.


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