The Story of Memoir

Memoir is a written narrative of one's personal experience. It's not surprising that most people today do not know what a memoir is when, in fact, there's been a memoir craze going on since 1940's. It all began when a discriminated race braved the page with their truth. Through words, they brought people inside their stories,... Continue Reading →

Kuya Rey: A Storyteller’s Story

The Storytelling Project piqued my interest the first time I happened on it. I like stories. When I was young, Papa would tell us tales about farm, soldiers and God every night until sleep rolled over us. We also used to keep two drawers of children's books in the living room. Rapunzel, Rumpelstiltskin, and books... Continue Reading →

Why Scared Writers Should Write

Writers fill the earth. You can see them thronging on social media - a screenshot-worthy status, that perfect IG caption, a serial novel on FB Notes. Now here you are, an aspiring writer, thinking, My gosh, they are awesome. How can they express themselves that well? Also, what with those words you didn't know exist? Subjugate. (What... Continue Reading →

Do You Still Believe in What You Do?

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 huge accomplishments in the craft save, of course, my dear memoir, Finding You, which has found a seat once in the "Best-Selling Books" shelf,... Continue Reading →

I Have Nothing to Say

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 →

God’s Peace in You

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 Should Go Back There

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 →

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