It’s my life

I wrote my first poem when I was 9 years old. I remember it was about Christmas, it had four lines with meter and rhyme, and it won first prize in a poem-writing contest in my school. I wrote my first story 2 years later, in 1984 (same year the title song was released), which I submitted to the school paper in my new school. It didn’t get published, however. My poems received a warmer reception so I wrote and submitted more poems. The stories I wrote, which were fantasies with touches of horror, were kept in a box somewhere inside my study desk at home, never seen by other eyes aside from mine.

During college, because I took up Nursing, my writing declined significantly. It only picked up around my last year at university. That time I was writing these sophomoric poems about lost loves and such, with un-metered lines that rhyme. My friends ate it all up, especially the girls. Unfortunately I think I inherited my father’s tendency to hold on to things that have long since outlived their usefulness. Last year, while on holiday in Manila, I looked at the old boxes that contained my writing and cringed and laughed while reading my old poems. My God. What was I thinking? How the heck did I get the courage to submit those poems to writing workshops? I don’t think I have ever demonstrated such brashness since.

In 1995, I was accepted at the UP National Writers’ Summer Workshop. I had just passed the Nursing licensure exams, I was volunteering for an AIDS NGO, and I was trying to find my place in the world, preferably one that wouldn’t require me to work as a Nurse (hehehe!). I saw the ad in the paper, learned that the workshop’s theme was writing for children. I submitted 5 of my poems (English) that I thought was fit for kids and a story (Filipino) about a weird schoolboy who befriended his classmate who was weirder than him. 4 weeks later I got this letter informing me that I was accepted in the workshop. When I called to confirm my attendance, I was asked to choose one genre (as I was accepted in both fiction and poetry) and without thinking I chose poetry.

Before the workshop my imagination ran rampant with fantasies of becoming Philippine literature’s newest discovery–moi but during the workshop my poems took a beating. One panelist commented on the disarray of the images being described. Rio Alma, the national artist, was kinder when he said that the poems were not bad, they were just too sensual for children. I was fine. To be frank, the poems I submitted weren’t really written for children.

Nevertheless, the workshop really inspired me to write again. Months later 2 of my poems got published by The Philippines Free Press. I was ecstatic; I sent a copy of the magazine to my grandmother, who was living in the US that time. She was the one who always encouraged me to write. This new inspiration made me apply for yet another workshop. In 1996 I was again accepted in the Dumaguete Summer Writer’s Workshop, run by (Mom) Edith and (Dad) Edilberto Tiempo. Again I submitted poems and a story.

At 23, I was no longer the socially inept high school kid nor the new participant in a writers’ workshop. I mean, I had been to the UP Workshop after all. But the Dumaguete workshop was different. Held for 3 weeks in scenic Dumaguete, I was suddenly immersed in a community where dynamism, creativity, and individualism were not admonished but encouraged instead. My poems fared better than my story, which got one heck of a beating from Dad Ed. I didn’t mind the strong words. The lure of a writer’s life was more potent than the drugs that were available to us. Not to mention the strong sense of community that permeated the workshop. I have met some of my oldest good friends in the Dumaguete Workshop. We don’t see each other often now, but they are in my heart.

I went back to Manila intoxicated with that drug. In spite of the harsh reception accorded to my story, I was able to write a new story weeks after the workshop and it got published by The Evening Paper months later. The story was called “Epiphany”, which was about a gay man who was resenting his lover because of intellectual incompatibility. It was a little story: set in just one day, but many people who read it liked it because they thought it was very poignant. Isagani Cruz even chose it as one of the best short stories that came out of that specific quarter.

Looking back, I realized that in writing this particular story, I applied what was repeatedly taught us at the workshop. To write about the things you know, about the things in your life. Edmund White–one of my favorite gay writers, continues to write compelling and mesmerizing stories that are semi-autobiographical. My stories are not that frank, but most of them contain an element of my life, which are embellished in varying degrees.

In 2003, a children’s short story I wrote became a finalist in the PBBY (Philippine Board on Books for Young People) Salanga Writer’s Prize contest. My story was called “Dalawa ang Daddy ni Billy” (Billy Has Two Dads), about a boy being raised by a gay couple, one of which is the boy’s biological father. Someone I knew in the contest organizers told me that I missed the grand prize by a very slim margin, most probably because of the gay theme of my story. That time, I was attending the LIRA poetry clinic under Rio Alma (or National Artist Virgilio Almario), who also owns Adarna Books (publisher of children’s books). When he saw me at the awards show, he told me to submit my story to his publishing house, which I excitedly did. To my disappointment, I ultimately received a letter of rejection from Sir Rio’s daughter. My guess is it’s because of the gay theme, which would have really been something new in the Philippines.

My prose and fiction continued to be published in magazines in the Philippines over the years, although it slowed down a bit after 2004, when I moved to Cambodia. Having a book published someday remains a dream. I have written many things and 90% of them are in the hard drive of my computer, unpublished.

Now, 4 years later, good friend Danton Remoto informed me that “Epiphany” has been included in the 3rd edition of “Ladlad”, the anthology of Philippine gay writing that he’s been editing with J. Neil Garcia. This news pleased me immensely. I am a step closer to my dream, as it turns out. The book, whose cover is pictured below, was launched on December 1. I am dying to get a copy, but being out of the country I will have to wait longer, until I go on holiday or someone sends me a copy. I heard there’s also a children’s story in the anthology, and I have become more excited to read it. To you, dear reader, this shameless plug: PLEASE BUY THE BOOK.

Ten years after I attended my first writers’ workshop, I believe I have become a better writer. I no longer have the brashness and arrogance to claim I’m the best unpublished writer there is, but I am very hopeful that my dream of getting published will still happen someday, even if I’m old and gray.

I have many stories to tell and poems to share to the world.