Category Archives: Writing

What Now? Pending Questions one year later

Pending Questions

It’s been a year since the birth of this blog.

Wow, one year. One year of happy days, not-so happy days, and some really awful ones. One year of everything and one year of not everything.

One of the reasons I began writing in this blog, or writing in general, was because I was searching for what I wanted to do with my life. Looking back, it was the whole “quarter life crisis” bullcrap. I quit my stressful job, got sick with a deadly fever, and lost a dear friend. It was like an intense wake up call to do something with my life and not to take things, or anyone, for granted.

I was closed-minded, selfish, and didn’t pay attention to the blessings that I was receiving. Instead, I pushed myself into isolation and despair because I didn’t know what else to do. A year ago there were a lot of bad days. Those were the days of drinking to forget, smoking to breathe, crying to find solace, and not sleeping because my heart didn’t want to rest. Those were the days of endless searching and infinite nothingness. Those were the days that when I look back, I shudder and won’t even know where to begin explaining myself. And those were the days I wrote because writing became a sublimation – a defense mechanism. It was more than an escape, it was a way to breathe.

As I said in my very first post a year ago on a beautiful and lonely September day, I write because I can. I write because this is what I want to do.

And despite those bad days, there were good days eventually – days when I could almost taste the idea of belonging to something bigger than myself. There were days of mesmerizing bliss with friends and with those who care. There were also days of finding the beauty in nothingness and quietness. Despite days of unrest, there were days of peace, beautiful and gracious peace.

What now? Now, there are more questions to ask and more questions to be answered. I continue the journey like a wandering warrior looking for a place to call home. To more good days and to more bad days. Each day is a gift and an opportunity and it will be irresponsible for either of us to waste it.

What now? Now, you and I write.

Let’s write about beauty and wonder, of empty spaces and wondrous places. Let’s write because it’s the only way we know how to live. Let’s explore the great unknown for it is only then will we know what is real and pure.

Now, I write.

I write here because it has become my sanctuary.

Some people are forced into isolation, I look for it. I need the space and the quietness. I hate myself for not writing here as much as I could. I really hope writing becomes more than just a habit and that it becomes like a drug that I need just to get by.

Instead of days forcing myself to type on a computer or use a pencil and write on my notebook, I hope they become part of my everyday life.

One day, I pray that my writing hands become an extension of my body that when I think of something my hands automatically know what to do and write.

Probably more than anything, I wish that I can write with so much passion that writing has a euphoric and transcending feel on my soul; and extends to the readers that it touches and inspires them as well.

I wish all these things and more.

Just like a year ago, just like always, today I write.

 

How In The World Do I Write?

As a struggling writer, one could say that words left me for quite some time. Don’t get me wrong, I have been writing consistently for work. But somehow, I wasn’t sure if I was writing for myself or for my audience. As I develop my voice as a sportswriter or as a journalist, I felt the need to go back to this: to where it all started. Writing for my own is one of the happiest and most fulfilling things I look forward to. And depending on how you look at it, this fact is either depressing or inspiring. HAHA.

I’d like to say I’ve improved over the last couple of months. My editors have given me constructive criticism and sometimes downright “WRITE LIKE THIS” pointers but inevitably it was all about finding my own voice in writing.

For the last couple of months, I’ve broken down my method in writing. I am writing this so I can share this with you but more importantly so I can remember them. I don’t about you but as a writer I always feel the need to categorize everything and put things into perspective.

Without further ado, here is what has been hovering around my brain the past couple of months whenever I write:

1. Inform

First thing’s first.  What the hell are you writing about? Provide your audience all the information necessary whether it be stats, data, facts, and whatnot. The readers want to know something and that’s why they clicked the link, or read your article somewhere, or heck, even maybe bought your book. Humor with them with the right information.

2. Insight

Given the info that you’ve generously provided, what now? Why would the reader even care? Or in other cases, the information that you’ve given may have already been read. Maybe it’s all over the news (or worse, social media) and you find yourself just repeating what everyone else is saying. When people go read your stuff, they want to know what you think and not anyone else’s. Or better yet, YOU give them something to think about. Stir debate, make controversy, or whatever just as long as you make them think.

3. Creativity

This is when you get to express yourself as a writer or in a broader sense, as an artist. Use metaphors, symbolisms, pop culture, movie references, and most of all, poetry. Writing in any form or of any kind should be made beautiful.

Oh, and another thing, this may seem odd but try to avoid adjectives. WHAT? I know. But what I mean is that rather than just saying that a girl is beautiful and loveable, say that her beauty makes me scream I love her at the top of my lungs but with her it only comes out as a whisper so that she alone can hear it. Or you know, something like that. In other words, make your adjectives come out of the pages and let it cut to the readers’ heart.

4. Simplicity

Less is more. Always. To be honest, this is one of the things I struggle with as a writer. I tend to overly blab about one thing and sometimes it’s cute or personal but it can also get irritating. Thank goodness for editors right?

Anyway, show emotion but don’t overreact. Show heart but also show sincerity. Be cool and calm dude.

5. Delivery

Writing can be like doing a standup comedy at times. You have to setup the punch line in order to create the impact you want on your readers. It’s all about delivering your message with accuracy and precision.

That’s it for now.

Remember – Inform, insight, creativity, simplicity, and delivery.

Off to more writing!

 

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How Do I Start?

Before I write anything, a blank page always stares at me. Like a painter before he paints, the canvass is white and blank, waiting for the right colors to fill its empty spaces. As I’ve mentioned in my very first post nearly nine months ago, they first key to writing… is to write. You write your first draft with your heart, and then you rewrite it with your head.

But how does it start? Where do I get the “inspiration” to begin writing? Whether it’s for work or for this blog, the blank page mocks me and keeps me from writing what I think. There’s a mini wrestling match with my heart, head, and even the fingers of my hands as each body part clamors for attention. But when the moment my fingers reach the keyboards, it’s the passion deep within me that makes it all start. Okay, that sounded a bit cheesy but it’s true. It’s like when a musician closes his or her eyes before unleashing holy hell of music goodness. It’s like when a superstar football player lines up right before he hits the free kick and makes the ensuing goal and sends the entire arena into bedlam. It’s the calm before the storm.

Sometimes you just have to take a deep breath, and jump off the building. The trick is to not stare at the blank page. Fill it immediately with your thoughts. Then you wouldn’t feel so lonely anymore.

As Doc Pomus once said, “Find the shortest distance between your insides and a pencil.”

 

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