Me, As a Writer

I am so busy these that I wasn't able to post new stuff in my blog. Been working on a lot of write-ups and some floor plans too. But I thought of sharing to you something today. I also shared this on my other blog Pink Heart String.

I am currently enrolled in an online course, Writing II Rhetorical Composing in Coursera. For our first assignment, we were told to write a literary narrative about how we became a writer. The assignment was named Getting to Know You. So, I will share with you my assignment so you will also get to know more about me. Here it is:

Snowflakes, Ink Blots and a Dream

Snowflakes, snowflakes

Up in the air,

Where you came from,

I know not where.

Snowflakes, snowflakes

So lovely in the sky,

Why you are there,

Oh, I wonder why!

Snowflakes, snowflakes

You come in different shapes

I wonder what it takes

To see you and be my keepsake.

This poem didn’t begin with a poem. It begun with a craft and a dream. I was snipping colored papers, shaping them into circles, folding them into whatever manner I can think of and snap snap snap. I ended up having paper art that looked like snowflakes (well, for me they were snowflakes). I was making them so I can add it on my scrap book of dreams for I always wanted to see real snowflakes since we do not have snow here in the Philippines. Upon seeing those colorful snowflakes, words suddenly played on my mind and I wrote it on paper with a pen that blots ink every now and then. I was 7 years old and I loved arts. I loved crafts. I did not even know I’ll be able to write. I didn’t even know that I could write.

Yes, it all started with a craft and a dream. With that short poem, I have begun creating the foundation of my future as a writer. From that day, I felt like I found my Personal Legend like what Coehlo refers to. It seems that the snowflakes and the ink blots from my pen where the keys to what I am today. From that day, a writer was born.

I then began writing more poems. I even wrote one for my teacher in Grade 5. I became part of the school paper and was sent to various writing competitions. But along with that writing, I was also a consistent representative of our school for drawing contests, extemporaneous speaking contests and quiz bees. Oh well. My life as a grade school pupil was like a whirlwind of contests and quiz bees. But despite my busy schedule of reviews and practices for the contests I was sent to, I couldn’t put to hiatus the words that play in my mind. They are always there. The words kept on swirling like endless music in my mind. I always have something to write about. My craft and my dreams were always linked to the words that danced on my mind, and I cannot make them stop.

I brought a pen and paper with me all the time so that I can scribble those dancing words every time they come up. That is how I came up with lots of poems and stories. I even tried writing my own songs, too. I made it a habit to always have a pen and a piece of paper in my pocket. I didn’t care even if my pen sometimes blots ink into the fabric of my school uniform. At least, there is still ink to bring the words to life. At least, there was still ink to add another step that leads to my dreams. At least, the ink is there, I can see it, I can feel it, it is mine.

My writing prowess was sharpened through time. The ink blots kept coming. I continued writing in high school and once again became part of the school paper as an Associate Editor. But I felt that it wasn’t enough to express myself in it. So, I founded a paper for our batch where anyone can write just anything they want to- from letters to secret crushes to funny stories about our senior life. It was funded by donations from classmates who were also willing to read the “latest” buzz. It was a big hit and until now, I never regret creating that paper which we named Heart Beats because it is where our heartbeats can be expressed and taken to every single person from our batch like a heart string that seemingly connects us. It is where friendship and love was molded, too.  The ink blots came more often especially that I had to bring technical pens for my Major classes in drafting. And well, my heart beats had more to express especially that I started to love, hate, admire and feel pain.

College was a totally big thing for me. I joined the school paper and passed as a Senior Writer. From that, I was promoted as a Feature Editor, a News Editor, an Associate Editor and became the Editor-in-Chief. I was Third Year College when I became Editor and continued being one for another year. It was a dream I always wanted to achieve.  Since I have grasped that dream, I made sure I did well and I made sure I’ll leave ink blots that will never be forgotten. And I sure did because apart from writing, we fought for press freedom.

Our college publications that included a monthly newsletter, a magazine, a tabloid and a literary folio are one of the best publications in the Region. We garner plenty of awards each year for every release we make. I can never be prouder because as Editor, I made sure we will create big changes for the betterment of the paper. But as we work harder for meatier contents and more engaging layouts, our freedom to write were given limits. Our adviser controlled what to write, choosing only those that matter to him, excluding big events that involved people he dislike, deleting lines from news stories that offended the people he look up to even it is the truth and creating a newsletter without even telling the Editorial Board. Without my knowledge, he has instructed some staffers to make a newsletter WITHOUT our names on the masthead. He even gave instructions that no one else but only “him” should edit all the articles. The section editors and the member of the Editorial Board were surpassed. As a college paper, we were supposed to be the “boss” because it is OUR paper. It is where we express and unveil the voice of the students and not that of a technical adviser. I felt so bad about it and I realized it was about time to expose all his doings including corruption. It was a struggle for all of us especially for the editors but we succeeded in unveiling his doings to the entire university by writing a press release. It was a courageous act and I never regret for doing such. With the power of my pen, I made a difference in our university. With my inkblots, I divulged the truth – a veracity that stayed unveiled for years. With the power of my pen, I stood for our rights to express and to write. With my inkblots, we made history.

I know, up to this day, my ink blots are still seen as silhouettes in our College paper.  I may have graduated and I may have ended my post in an unexpected way but I know, the ink blots stayed. I may look rebellious for some but I see more people who applauded my acts. My writing continued after college as I joined a local community paper and wrote for different websites. Well, the ink blots never stopped.

I had so much flare in writing. I feel like writing is a fire that seemingly burns within me. I feel like every time my fingertips touch the computer’s keyboard, there is a force that runs from me and into my hands. The power of my hand, my mind and my heart is combined and they result into a huge ink blot. I may not be using my pen these days because it is much easier to write using the computer, but I still look at these letters and words on my screen as ink blots.

Yes, it all started with a craft and a dream. Writing is not just about writing. It is about who you are, what you can do, and what you dream of. It is about crafts and the things we love to create with our bare hands from luscious food to creative works. It is about dreams and the things we always wanted to achieve from simple desires to huge ambitions.

Yes, it all started with a craft and a dream because the day I made and dreamed of snowflakes, is the day the ink blots started. It was the day when a writer was born.