Ever since I opened Scribblory (my writing business), I keep getting this nagging thought of you-don't-have-the-right-to-do-this or you-are-not-good-enough. You see, there is this glaring fact that I have no formal training in writing nor any huge accomplishment in the craft save, of course, my dear memoir, Finding You, which has not found a seat in the "Best-Selling Books"... Continue Reading →
Blankness. These fingers freeze atop the letter keys. Man, I have nothing to say. Is that possible? What words can be found in silence, in emptiness, in void? But am I really silent? Am I empty? Is this heart void? Or it's just that... there are things I choose to leave unsaid excitement I want... Continue Reading →
I never imagined myself getting a hand on any type of business. The term "business" used to sound foreign to me. It may run in my blood since my mother's family used to own businesses, and my parents themselves built one before. But I never explored that world, never attended any seminar about it. I... Continue Reading →
I've seen Baybay before the typhoon "Yolanda" marred its beauty. My parents had to work there, and they brought me with them. For weeks, we stayed in some sort of a village near the sea. We had a hostel to inhabit - the one that was walking distance from the shore. Every morning, I would... Continue Reading →
I can remember quite vividly the first time I braved the blogging world. "It'll push you to make your work better," my sister, Ate Nikki, said. So blogging, yeah? Of course, it'd take some courage. I was thinking, people would be reading my writing pieces which I knew weren't that good. Well, not yet. If... Continue Reading →
I could feel pressure in my ears. Looking out, the airplane's wing stretched splinting every cloud into two. I could hear and feel the jet engine's whirring from my seat. It was nice to be literally above everything. Lately I was feeling so low, so unworthy to be for anything and have anything. I was... Continue Reading →
She rushes into her room. Her boots thud, leaving wet shoe marks on the wooden floor. The door slams close quite as loud as the pattering rain. She looks around her, vexed at the beauty and fun embedded in the strokes of the plastered paintings and face sketches, the curve at the end of the... Continue Reading →
If you would browse my stack of old, worn-out, messed-up-to-the-last-page journals, you'll see how plenty of check boxes I've drawn in there with the words "write and publish a book" beside them. Month after month, year after year, I would write on the last page of my diary and get a new one. But those... Continue Reading →
I can feel You this midday, while the rain hits the roof. The air is thin and cool, yet sometimes it gets breezy that it topples some stuff beside the window. I switch on solely the bulb near the stairwell, and let the rest hide in the gloom. I stay in my room to savor... Continue Reading →
