Because, Bullocks, It's the Love Month: On Writing

Sorry.

I haven’t written ANYTHING for February because this so-called “Love Month” isn’t something I’m supposed to celebrate, being single with a cold and shattered heart and all that drama. Of course, I’m bitter. Laugh all you want, happy, in love people, but there you go. I don’t have dates to write about, or sweet stories to share. I might have a couple of make-up ideas for the Forever Alone ladies, but I’m too lazy to make a tutorial/blogpost. 

But of course, I can’t leave my Codswallop alone. I did promise to myself to continue writing. I mean, sure, I have a couple of dozens of article I get paid to write, but I promised myself I’d write for myself just to keep myself sane. (See how many “myselfs” I wrote? Self-centered, eh?).

And then, of course, I am reminded that I’m in love with writing and am passionate about so many things – rape prevention and survival, HIV/AIDS awareness and stigma elimination, my friends and family, the arts.

I’ve decided that I can still write about love, and what better way to start than to write about writing?

I’ve been writing since I was in 4^th grade and have endeavored to be a writer since I decided I can be one – again, since 4^th grade. I was a very assertive ten-year old. I was also a half-crazy, suicidal, depressed teen-ager. It was Writing and the arts took me out of the danger zone. Thank goodness for art therapy. This is why I kept on it despite not being very good at it. Writing is like finding the most convenient soul mate. Writing does not demand so much – only that I be there when it needs me. Usually at 3-bloody-AM.

Eventually, though, I got good enough to write for money. It’s always been my dream to. When I was younger, I imagined myself to be sitting in front of a well-loved type writer, a cup of coffee next to me, with words flowing from the tips of my fingers, creating my next novel, my next millions of pesos.

Well, the cup of coffee (and chocolate, Mountain Dew, chips and crackers – essentially sugar and caffeine) came true. Writing for money isn’t as glamorous as it seems. Instead of novels, I’ve written blogposts (for another blog, Codswallop is mine), business proposals (in less than a day, thank freaking goodness for my NGO training in proposal writing), all forms of corporate communication, website content, and marketing paraphernalia (tip to companies out there: hire marketing people with great com skills, it’ll cost you less).

Me, writing. Not exactly the epitome of beauty and grace, but there you go.

Do I like it? Yes. The rush and fulfillment of finishing an article and getting money I can use for my and my family’s needs is great. 

Is it as great as I envisioned? Writing for money is different from writing to keep away from self-destructive tendencies. Here are some things I learned from writing for a living.:

    

    1.       Not everything you write is your baby. Sometimes, you’ll be asked to write about awesome things – letters to legislators and powerful people to advance a cause you believe in, for instance – or some totally stupid topic given by some idiot who doesn’t even understand the topic they gave you. To be honest, I would really not want to be associated with the latter. To many writers, that seems calloused – that’s your name in the byline, published online, where people can read it! – and would think that this is tantamount to abandoning my own kid. This isn’t true at all. In writing, there are some pieces to pour your heart and soul into, pieces that fulfill you as a writer and as a person. These are your children. You send these out to the world like your own kids and they get beaten and criticized by both editors and readers. It’s like watching your children going through problems the world throws at them and feeling incompetent as a parent. It hurts. But how these artistic offsprings you produce survive being mauled by the editor and criticized by readers would always help you create better literary children. (Gosh, I should like a mom).

The same can’t be said for write-ups. 

(Number 1 is especially dedicated to my friend who spent an hour writing and revising one sentence. Dude, you're awesome, but seriously, after that hour-long struggle, I needed chocolate.)

This is one of the poems I write when I was younger. Conclusion: I was one effed-up kid.

   

   2.       Despite not being your baby, you still have to do your damnest to produce well-written article. You get paid for what you write. You owe it to the client to produce something he or she can work with. This is not to say that you have to write a masterpiece all the time. Making sure that you don’t commit any horrible grammatical sins or that you did your research before writing your piece are things that should be constant in your practice.

    3.       Some pieces are worth more money than others. There are times I’d had to write marketing messages for text blasts and other times, a business proposal about some obscure product that even my client had no idea about (read:#/wrist). Some write-ups are worth more money than others. When agreeing on a price, make sure that you take into consideration the work that goes into the piece and not just the number of words required.

   

   4.       Learn to say “No”. Money is awesome. It buys me stuff I like, such as weird accessories, books, and art stuff I can play with. When my mom was suffering from insanely high blood sugar, I was the one who spent for her meds and check-up. The money came from my writing jobs. The money I gave my family for Christmas came from the PHP200 blogposts I write every week. I was able to help out some friends whose family were affected by Super Typhoon Haiyan because I choose to bleed words. In freelance writing, the more jobs you get, the more money there is. But you should have a limit. Can you really deliver 10 articles per week, on top of other writing jobs, on top of your regular job? Say no if you can’t. 

Note to self: Don’t take in more writing jobs. Quit the others.

I love writing. I do believe that it saved me from death by ingesting too much paracetamol and vodka, from cutting and slacking off from school too much. Earning from what I love makes it so much more precious because I can help my friends and family while saving myself from insanity.

I don’t know what else to say, really. We talk about love all the time and we always equate love to a person. It’s almost always understandable, to be in love with a person. But we can also be in love with our passions, can be not?

I guess that’s what my February will be about.  It may be Single Awareness Month for me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t write about love, right?