I’ve been wanting some space recently. I just feel so hemmed in. Now that I’m feeling this rush of creativity, I feel like there are just too many people in my place and I can’t find the kind of quiet that I need to do the work I want to do.

Don’t get me wrong. My mom and my brother flew in from Bacolod yesterday so we can all attend my Dad’s first solo art exhibit tonight. It’s a big family affair and we’ve been having so much fun catching up and bonding. I love my family to bits.

found this on google images under writing and I had to choose it over all the pen and paper pics that they put; it's more honest

found this on google images under writing and I had to choose it over all the pen and paper pics that they put; it’s more honest

But lately, I’ve become more and more withdrawn because I am in this state when I really want to just embrace my solitude and start working like a madman. I have so many stories that I want to write now. I’ve come to know directors who don’t want me to write their stories, they want me to write mine and for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m ready to put myself out there — put myself on the line — in my work.

Now I understand why writers take retreats and detach themselves from the world for long periods of time to write. Of course, there are the more professional writers who can write a few pages everyday, in stolen moments within the day, and over time finish their work. I know my process enough to know that I have to tackle the bull head on and wrestle with it until I bring him down. I’m not the guy who can beat the bull by cutting pieces of him bit by little bit over long periods of time.

Because of the changes in the education system, my Dad’s scholar won’t graduate until the middle of May and my Dad had only raised enough money for him until the middle of April. In order to save money, he decided to let him stay with us until he graduates and so there is another person in my living space and while I’m happy to host and help someone get a good education, it is another element that I have to deal with.

I remember reading On Writing by Stephen King and he insists on writing everyday and finding the right time for your process. I can’t pick up the book and quote him directly since my copy of the book is in Bacolod but I can distinctly remember him saying that he likes to work in the morning and when he closes the door to his studio, his wife knows not to disturb him.

I’ve been trying to find the right time for me to block out the world; I’ve been trying to find out my writing process but it’s when the urgency hits me and it can be at any time of the day. When the thoughts in my head have become so full that they must jump out and I have to go and write it or the moment would be gone. It is because of the inconsistency of my process that is proving that maybe living alone is really the way for me to go, as of the moment. So that when the thoughts get full, I can just shut off my phone and just start writing.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become more and more demanding of my writing space. I hate it when there are people running around my living space while I’m writing. I get self-conscious. I get distracted. When I was in my early twenties, before I had a computer of my own, I could write in a noisy Internet cafe with kids playing Counterstrike and shouting at each other from across the room. I could write in any crazy, noisy environment. Now that I’m older, I can’t do that.

I hate this aspect of myself. I wish I could write in any given atmosphere or situation. I want that old me back. But that’s not the case.

If I could save enough money, I think it would be great to take a trip to some beach. Just myself, my laptop, my speakers (I like having loud music when I’m writing), and go and write for two weeks and not have anyone bother me.

I have so much stories, scripts, thoughts that I want to put down.

But while the situation is not so ideal, I’ll deal with what I’ve got now. I’ll manage like I always have. Right now, the house is full. There’s lots of love. Family is here. I’m happy for that. My stories can wait just a month more. Let them gestate for just a little while longer. And then, we can let loose the dogs of war and the blank page will never be the same again after.


One thought on “retreat

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