Two Fridays ago, I had the privilege of picking up my contributor’s copy of the Literary Apprentice Lite 2006 during UP’s Writers Night. In the folio’s pages was my first English poem published in print.
Though I don’t show it here, I prefer to write unabashed street-talk poems in Tagalog. In the same way that I can let loose some grandiloquent pieces in English, I’m fond of having my Tagalog pieces emanate some shock value with regard to the word choice and plot premise. In fact, I fancy myself as a writer who can challenge my readers’ sensibilities more effectively when using the strong words of my native tongue.
Needless to say, it was a great feeling to know that my English poetry is publication-worthy. The fact that the Lit Apprentice Lite is a good folio is a real morale-booster in times when I can’t write that much anymore due to work.
The folio, titled A Long Time Coming and a Long Time Gone, is quite the untraditional publication. Aside from the usual printed zine, it also comes with an audio CD and some mini-zines. Heck, it even has a paper boat, not to mention almost-pornographic images adorning some of the lit works. The UP Writer’s Club was really creative with this one, which leaves me pondering as to the form of the main Literary Apprentice, coming out next year.
As for my now-personal favorite poem, Typo, the way it was presented in the folio intrigued me. The “i”s in superscript definitely was the simplest yet most effective way to present the piece in a folio where all works had highly ‘customized’ layouts. However, the “y”s in superscript puzzle me. Aside from the obvious phonetical relation between “i” and “y”, having the “y”s in superscript can distract the reader. But I’ll stop here; after all, I don’t want to nitpick my own published poem.
Another reason to be happy in the past days was the delivery of my moleskines, the ‘legendary’ notebook used by Hemingway, Picasso, and Van Gogh. Obviously these notebooks won’t do you any good if what you write or sketch in their pages is garbage. Still, to have a moleskine lying on my desk is a psychological lighthouse that both
reminds urges me to write and comforts me that a haven lies nearby, waiting for the time I’m going to need it.
The funny thing about this writer friend of yours is that I’ve yet to pen anything on the moleskine’s pages. Still biding for the moment when the muse swoops down in front of me, poses seductively in her flowing ancient Greek dress, and enthralls me with her…charms? Maybe. I just don’t want to write, “Hey, this is SO cooool. Moleskines rock! I’m so happy to own one” on the first page, no way. I want the first text on the first page to be special. Hence, a still unused moleskine.
So, why have the ideas stopped flowing? Well, the ideas are there — I fancy myself a “literary idea machine”. My problem is actually putting conjured scenes to words — if you don’t know already, I’m a workaholic. Aside from my formal writing/blogging/webmastering jobs (yes, plural), I’m putting up websites like crazy. Right now I’m just trying to open two more sites before my mind calms down and begins to actually write down the 5 poems, 2 short stories, 2 novels, and 1 saga in queue…among others.
(My “write-in-a-frenzy, write-in-a-jiffy!” capabilities have gone kaput.)
*An anecdote: I was informed that “Typo” was going to be published exactly one year after I wrote it.