33. Life: head-butting a wall

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I met three people from the UP Creative Writing Program: Collins Lidua, Selena Salang, and Carljoe Javier. All of us were classmates in Nonfiction Narrative class, were Short Fiction majors, and had “writing issues”.

   Collins, being a transgender, seemed to have been boxed into the whole Gay Literature category. And because she was “gay”, our professors expected her to just write gay stories or in her terms “Lahat na lang kabaklaan. ‘Di ba puedeng hindi?” I thought of her as a butterfly and I even call her that until now.

   Selena was writing a short story collection for children. Appropriate, really, because Selena had that happy wonder that children have. I thought of her as a pixie (who had looked like Matet De Leon) but I simply called her by her name.
   As for Carljoe, he had it all: already published several times (even had a newspaper column) and a very sound critical background. I had thought and called him an arrogant prick, then later thought of him fondly as a dwarf (because he likes chugging spirits so much) and called him “Carl” like everybody did or “Dude” like everybody did.

We all became friends because we liked drinking so much and bitching about the universe.

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I think Collins had applied once for a fellowship in the UP National Writers Workshop but was rejected. After graduation in 2003, Collins stopped writing and went about with the tasks of living like jobs and bills and career.

   She tries to write, she says, but doesn’t really have the time: she’s an English teacher in an international school in China and according to her she’s “…helping the Chinese to dominate the world. Bwahahahahaha.”

We’re still friends and we promised that someday I would get her pregnant… Or was it she would get me pregnant… It wasn’t clear, we were drunk.

Selena never wanted to be “fellow” or “published” or “award-winner”. She said that she just didn’t want to go through the stress, pressure, pain of rejection and whatnot in the writing business. After graduation in 2003, she had worked as an editor for a couple of years, quit, and is now a freelance writer (nothing literary, she says) and a singer in a band.

   Selena still keeps a journal, blogs, and has even written a song.

We’re still friends, closer now, and maybe someday we’ll become lesbian lovers.

And Carl wanted to be in the writing business: he wanted to be published, he wanted fellowship, and he wanted the award(s). By the time and shortly after he graduated, he had achieved the three. He is even taking his MA in Creative Writing, has been teaching English to high school girls, and is so “published” that sometimes he doesn’t even know that he’s been published unless he’s told.

   We supported Carl and said that at least one of us is going for it.

Carl and I would see each other during his band gigs, talk, and laugh in exasperation at writers who whine when their works are criticized.

Somebody had asked me, “And you?”

   I said--- writing was a hobby, then therapy, then fun, now it just takes too much work.
I didn’t say---    I just wanted to write these stories that were lived,
   except they’re nonfiction and I’m passing them off as fiction.
   That was the only way I was free to tell these stories.

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I had thought why not go for it?

I had time while trying to figure out what to do with my life. Workshop first before published, right?

I tried for the Silliman Workshop--- and why not UP? I thought that since I was in UP already, the ideas in that workshop were the ideas being taught in the course.

   Somebody told me that if you were from UP, it would be best if you get a recommendation letter from Jimmy Abad (for poetry) and Butch Dalisay (for short fiction) to the Silliman Workshop. Better chances of getting the fellowship, my source said. But I didn’t personally know the two and they have never been my professors.
   Carl forwarded to me the number of Sir Butch and Sir Butch was kind enough to entertain my request even if he didn’t know me. I gave him two or three short stories and he said in his recommendation that I had “an edge that deserves to be honed.”
   Wow, I thought, THE Butch Dalisay thinks that of my writing? WOW! And I began thinking that I might have a chance, that I might actually get the fellowship.

The Silliman Workshop didn’t think that I deserved to be honed:

R E J E C T E D.

OUCH.

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That “ouch” came out in a very angry application letter to the same workshop:

   Adamant and affronted, I questioned the purpose of the recommendation letter and said that isn’t the fellowship based on the work being submitted? I said that the idea that you need to be recommended just rankled and I heard enough talk about applicants getting fellowships because of who was recommending them and not entirely because of their submitted texts.
   An additional comment was something like “Is this the state of Philippine Literature in English now?!”

And the Silliman Workshop replied:

R E J E C T E D.

I wasn’t really thinking that I would get the fellowship given that letter.

I was actually hoping for someone to reply or berate me, any response that would simply say

“It doesn’t work that way.”

I also hoped that they at least read my stories.

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I submitted again a portfolio for the Silliman Workshop, this time with a letter saying something like “I wish to share what I would learn in the workshop to my students.” Also that the ideas from the workshop would help me in my research for my MA about Postcolonial Aesthetics.

   I wasn’t really expecting to be accepted given my angry application letter the previous year. And yes, like the previous year, I had no recommendation letter to go with the portfolio.

Again, I was:

R E J E C T E D

I thought I was used to it already but damn it still hurt.

My boyfriend said, “C’mon, let’s get you published.”

I said, “Nah” thinking that I can’t take another rejection.

“Besides,” I said, “I have no time and what will I write?”

He said, “Write a story about a Philippine Dragon. We can submit it to that anthology about Philippine Dragons.”

I laughed, “There is no such thing as a ‘Philippine Dragon’!”

He said, “Just write it, write your stories. I’ll look for where we can submit it.”

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I didn’t apply anymore for the Silliman Workshop because I was unwilling to be rejected again. If you and your writing have been rejected so many times, you would really begin to think that you can’t write at all and you would really just stop.

Then in June or July 2006, “Remembering Thursday” was going to be published by Sarge Lacuesta in the Philippine Free Press---

----When he called, raving, I answered, “Huh? I’m sorry but can we talk later? I’m in the middle of teaching class.”

He was apologetic and all.

I didn’t know what he was talking about.

So I asked my boyfriend about it.

Apparently, my boyfriend decided to submit that story in behalf of me---- hearing the news that Philippines Free Press had a new literary editor and good things about this editor. Usually, in-behalf-of-me decisions piss me off but I just squealed “YAY!” so many times. And after composing myself, I returned Sarge’s call and I got pointers for the editing to be done in the story--- in addition to “You’re very lucky to have a boyfriend like that” which pissed me off.

Remembering Thursday was finally published in December 2006.

It took that long to edit it because I didn’t have time to edit.

And it took a very hesitant follow-up-call to remind the forgetful editor about it.

My boyfriend also submitted my dragon story “Waiting for Agua de Mayo” for the A Time of Dragons anthology being edited by Vin Simbulan but it was rejected.

I said “Oh” when my boyfriend told me about it---

---then I had shrugged, smiled,

so happy just to be published even once.

Around September, my boyfriend told me that Dean Alfar loved the story Vin Simbulan rejected and he wanted to include it in the Philippine Speculative Fiction Volume 2---

----and I couldn’t speak,

thinking: wow…

an anthology,

IN Speculative Fiction,

wow…

And I didn’t even know any of them personally.

I told Carl about the publications and he laughed his support, “Wow, you’re on a roll!”

On December 10 2006, I attended the book launch of the Philippine Speculative Fiction Volume 2. Don’t stop writing, they all said. I wanted to say I never did. I just don’t publish. I had already gone AWOL from my graduate studies on literary theory and criticism at that time, too tired from teaching and other slasher-duties.

I was very unhappy.

That December, I had filed for resignation and decided that I wanted to be happy.

I wanted to write.

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Being happy:

So there I was steadily blogging (and vomiting) in January. It was practice in writing for me. Around February, I had stopped posting in my blog and I began writing a short story entitled “Wishes Do Come True” meant to be submitted to Sarge Lacuesta for Philippine Free Press.

Around March, my boyfriend reminded me that it was application time for the Silliman Workshop. I had decided to try again for the short fiction fellowship, intending to submit the stories that were already published [Carl said I could submit published material] and Wishes Do Come True. But when we checked the requirements again, we found out that the material had to be unpublished. I didn’t have (time for) four more short stories.

I submitted, instead, five texts for the Essay/Creative Nonfiction category:

“Let’s Talk About Ex-Sex” was originally a blog entry.

“I try to write about you and me” was a piece I wrote for my boyfriend about our relationship but never posted it because I thought it was too personal to be revealed in a blog entry and read by god-knows-who.

“A Bicolana’s Journey to Teaching English” was once a Palanca entry for the essay category that obviously didn’t win.

“Who’s the Charlatan?” was an essay that I had intended to submit to Young Blood and it was about my brother’s experience with his negligent thesis adviser that pissed off the sister-and-teacher in me.

“Against Dressing” was written like a short story, in the third person point-of-view, and I had passed it off for a while as fiction when it was all nonfiction.

And yes, I even got a recommendation letter from Dean Alfar although I asked through my boyfriend because I had turned shy. In his recommendation letter, Dean called me “a firecracker of a writer able to write poetry, short fiction, and essays”. As for my application letter, I just wrote:

Dear Dr. Tiempo:

May I respectfully submit these five personal essays/creative nonfiction for the fellowship application for this year’s workshop?

Those I know who have been given the opportunity to join the workshop had said that the workshop gave them valuable insight and encouragement in their writing and lives. I hope that I would be given the same opportunity.

Thank you so much for taking time to read my essays.

Sincerely yours,

Mia Tijam

On April 15 2007, I found out that I got the fellowship. Finally. I was so happy… then I got drunk because finally I could stop head-butting that wall and my head could finally stop aching from head-butting that wall. After which, hung over, I began writing another short story about this character named Lady Boy for Dean Alfar…

……The Virus Happened In 2007.………………2008.………………….

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I haven’t heard from Collins in years. And being the cave woman of the online social network, I would only receive tidbits of her from friends through the years. One friend said that she had cut her hair and dyed it blond, and that her pictures online showed my butterfly as really girly.

And therefore she is often mistaken as a Puerto Rican Beauty in China.

I’m betting she would just laugh that laugh and say, “Excuse me, I’m Filipina.”

But that was during Friendster time and on a Saturday with Selena I said, “You have Facebook, right? Why don’t you check and look her up?”

Selena laughed, “Yeah! Why didn’t I think of that?!”

Because we’ve all been to busy.

Selena and I talked about that, making time for each other, and about how eight years ago we were just college kids with issues. And look how far we’ve all come: now we seem to have “THE” before our names. Selena laughed about her “THE” but then I would remind her:

You’re THE Selena Salang who was the vocalist of Candy Audioline when Indie began.

You’re THE Selena Salang who has written more songs.

You’re THE Selena Salang of Ang Bandang Shirley.

You’re THE Selena Salang who sang with Versus.

Selena laughed, “You called Carl Mr. Bogus! And I am not Matet De Leon! I am Cris Villonco!”

I laughed, “Mas sosyal! And I am Candy Pangilinan. Or Gelli De Belen! Or the Diamond Star!”

On a Sunday during my reunion with Katitang, she said to Selena, “Uy, sa Facebook ko somebody said Wow, friend mo pala yun sa Ang Bandang Shirley?”

Yeah, I rest THE case.

I told Selena that Saturday that Carl is finally coming out with his books. That Sunday, Carl had joined us (serendipity once more and so Selena had followed to join us) and he brought a copy of his nonfiction book published by Milflores: AND THE GEEK SHALLL INHERIT THE EARTH.

Carl and I were laughing about so many things like not taking criticism on the personal level--- the Reeking Present State Of Philippine Literary Scene given those May 2 And 9 2009 Philippines Free Press Issues Beautiful Grave Digging Fracas. About being disappointed at people we used to admire.

About my, “I think the editors of those issues should resign, especially Sarge. Man, you really just don’t renounce writers/texts you publish. And really, how can readers trust that what the touted literary magazine of the country publishes is fucking Literature if what’s published is based on these people’s judgments? Let’s not forget the entries for the Free Press Awards which makes writers credible. To be an entry, you have to go through the standards of an editor who’s shifty and does not believe in discourse.”

He said, “Tinitira niyo ko ni Adam lagi sa mga blogs niyo but hey, we don’t stop being friends.”

We also laughed about being taught by the oldies how important the spines of books are and his says GEEK CARLJOE JAVIER.

Carl laughed, “Yep, that’s about it.”

I laughed, “Yeah. Dude, your spine says GEEK. Yeah, you’re an immortalized geek now.”

So:

You’re THE Carljoe Javier who has an MA in Creative Writing.

You’re THE Carljoe Javier who resigned from teaching College English and Literature in UP Diliman.

You’re THE Carljoe Javier who is a fellow for CNF in the UP Advanced National Writers Workshop.

You’re THE Carljoe Javier who pissed on Selena’s Mom’s orchids, forgot to zip his fly, puked all over the sink, my awesome.

You’re THE GEEK Carljoe Javier.

I rest THE case.

Carl, Selena and I had a series of group hugs that night: WE ARE SO PROUD OF YOU!

As for THE yours truly, I had told Selena two almost three months ago that I was no longer hungry for publication. Given that the publication sites are just getting more absurd. Then I was asked, How many are out so far this year? And that’s two, maybe it will be three and I don‘t feel anything about it unless a reader says Best fucking shit I’ve read in years.

And that Sunday night, Carl said, “It’s not as good as how I thought it would feel.”

I laughed, “Well, shit, that’s why I’m not hungry for a book.”

To be in a spine or a jacket--- we laugh about it---- and that says it all.