on my writing space

I think I’ve talked about this before but I need a place where I can feel alone to be able to do really good, really involved writing work.

I’m all alone here at my brother’s condominium in Manila for a few more weeks but I’m enjoying the solace. I don’t feel as distracted and the isolation allows me a chance to really relax. I think it has a lot to do with my empathic nature. Living in a full house means I can pretty  much get the vibe of everyone in the house. I somehow feed on their emotions and my first instinct is to try and help the people around me.

Being alone means that there’s no one else to take care of but myself.


Something strange happened last Friday, though: I wrote in an unfamiliar office, in the midst of people (Photo taken by Cholo Laurel)

And being alone means that I can write un-self-consciously. I can just write and write and not be disturbed. I’ve gotten really spoiled in my writing habits. But I recognize it and I work towards it or around it. That’s something I learned after reading On Writing by Stephen King, his fantastic memoir about that time when he got hit by a car while he was walking and his thoughts about writing. It’s a great book and you should read it, really, if you like reading books on writing.

Surprisingly, though, I was able to do some good writing while I was at an office space in Makati working with my directors for a movie I’m writing. I didn’t know this office, it was my first time there, and there were people mulling about and working but it didn’t bother me. They had to do a conference call at our conference room and I hung out at the work table at the living space in the middle of everything and I just put on my earphones and began writing. I didn’t care that there were people there. I just started writing and it was great.

I don’t know. Maybe I’m really excited about this project. Maybe we had discussed what we wanted in the conference room to the point where I was boiling and itching to start putting thoughts to paper that I didn’t care that people were around me. I did want to say, “Okay, I can do this. Can I go home now and write from there?” But I didn’t. I sat on that table and just wrote and I did really good work, if I may say so myself.

It’s being in the city. I don’t know. I’m just writing again. Writing with my old fervor and I miss it and I love it.

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