Saturday, August 25, 2012

Storyteller's Box: The Evils of Storytelling Unleashed

Wherever this... this thing——writing, storytelling, or contemplating——that I do come from, from talent or plain stubbornness, it's definitely taking more from me than what I bargained for. Not that I don't have any idea of what I'm really getting into in the first place, but the longer I write, the more this job turns... insane. 

Am I really a writer? Would I still be sitting in this wooden chair if I have enough money to live everyday in comfort? (Will Internet access become free of charge and eating sweets free of guilt?)

I dread to think of how many more times I would ask myself "Am I really a writer?". How far can I go? Will my books turn into hit movies someday?
"If you find yourself asking yourself (and your friends), "Am I really a writer? Am I really an artist?" chances are you are. The counterfeit innovator is wildly self-confident. The real one is scared to death."
-Steven Pressfield, The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles 
Yes, okay, I hear you, man. And thanks to this book, I've been sitting in front of the computer, every single agitation-and-depression-filled-day, writing or not (except when thunder and lightning are all over the place).

But I find myself writing more nowadays, so I guess I should stop complaining and get back to my manuscript... But, hell, NO.

Not until I rant about what writing has done to ME.


Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Novel 1

First novel released. ☺

Ready To Love Again
By: Olivette

“Love is when you are extremely aware of that person’s presence. You see the world through his eyes. You long to have a connection with him. You want to know almost everything about him.”

In love si Celine sa kababata niyang si Thunder pero ang lalaki ay in love naman kay Maureen na girlfriend ng kapatid nito. Nang malaman niya iyon ay nakaramdam siya ng awa rito. Pero dahil engaged na si Maureen sa kuya ni Thunder, naisip niyang tulungan na lang si Thunder na makalimutan ang nararamdaman nito sa babae. Mukha namang nagtatagumpay siya. Kaya nang isang gabing sabihin nito na mahal siya nito, hindi siya nagduda. After all, ikakasal na si Maureen sa kapatid nito.
Ngunit isang trahedya ang naganap. Naaksidente ang kapatid ni Thunder sa araw ng kasal nito at ni Maureen. Labis na nagdalamhati si Maureen at si Thunder ang dumamay rito. Hanggang namalayan niyang unti-unting nawawala si Thunder sa kanya.
Sa nakikita niya, mukhang may pag-asa na si Thunder kay Maureen. Pero paano siya at ang puso niya na nagsimula nang umasa?

***

Hindi talaga ito ang first book na pinapangarap kong ma-published ng PHR. Ito `yong sequel, eh. Kaso na-reject iyong isa dahil bordering on homosexuality `yong hero. LOL. Hanggang ngayon ay hindi ko pa nababalikan. That was supposed to be Toulouse's story, ang friend ni Thunder. Pero ginagawa ko pa lang ang nobela na `yon ay tumatak na sa isip ko ang conflict ng story ni Thunder. Isa ito sa mga stories na masasabi kong galing talaga sa isang kidlat ng inspirasyon.

Palaging may issues ang readers sa mga kakaibang pangalan ng hero o heroine. Bakit Thunder? Who the heck would name their kid that without inspiring a rally from their relatives or friends? But others did worse, so... *shrugs*

"Thunder" kasi, iyong song ni Faith Hill na Piece of My Heart (originally by Janis Joplin), noong pinakinggan ko iyong medyo slow at diva version niya, ang pagkakarinig ko sa first word ay 'thunder'. But it's actually "Didn't I...". Amazing ears, right? Hahaha. Pero pakinggan n'yo `yong version na `yon ni Faith Hill (not the one similar to Janis' version). Thunder talaga, eh. So, `yon ang kasaysayan ng pangalan ni Thunder.

Ang mga writers mahilig maglagay ng mga favorite things, people, and places sa libro nila. Ang sa akin ay ang Leighman International Hotel at ang may-ari n'on—si Perry de Vera. May kuwento na actually sa akin si Perry, pero hilaw pa. Bakit ko siya paborito? `Cause he's my oldest hero. Hahaha. There's something about older men. As they say, they're like fine wine.

This book was returned once dahil masyadong bata iyong mga bida. Nang ma-approved siya ay ito na ang basehan ko sa kung ano ba ang standards ng PHR sa pagsuri ng nobela. Parang na-enlighten ako sa kung ano mang hinahanap nila sa isang libro. Mas naging pressured tuloy dahil baka ito na ang first and last novel ko.

Tulad nang usapan namin sa FB ng isang co-writer ko, paulit-ulit ko itong binasa noong nakakuha na ako ng copy. Gusto ko kasing maramdaman iyong nararamdaman ng isang reader sa pagbasa ng isang libro. I pretended not to know what the story was about, but I was still biased until the end. That made me sad. Not being able to read your own novel the way a first time reader would, I felt off-balanced for a while. May nakuha nga ako sa pagka-published ng libro ko, pero pakiramdam ko ay may nawala rin sa akin. :(

Tungkol sa dramatic part, may mga readers daw na naiyak. Mabuti naman dahil iniyakan ko rin ang ilang bahagi nito. Hahaha. Hindi ko akalaing kailangang mag-internalize. Akala ko mga artista lang ang gumagawa n'on. Writer din pala. At proud ako na maayos ang kinalabasan ng librong ito.

Sa mga tumangkilik sa first book ko, especially to a friend who purchased 50 copies to give away to her staff, I can't thank you guys enough. If this book had brought something significant to your lives, even for just a moment, consider that as another form of my gratitude. 

I hope I get back to Toulouse someday. Kyle, Celine's brother, has a story waiting, too. ;)


Yours Truly,
Olivette


Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Realizations of a Soon-to-Be-Published Romance Author

Romance is a lie.

An illusion that keeps the senses alive. 

The fools of this planet equate it with real love. I am a fool who refuses to be a fool. And so I struggle to promote real love, but even I got bored and confused. Curse of my humanity. I love and hate it at the same time.

I refuse to write a lie.

But this whole life is a lie; a place where you can find truth, but couldn't experience it fully. 

Truth is death.

And the hedonistic/sadistic human nature refuses it. It wants pain, just so it can revel in the pleasure. It wants to live. It thirsts for its humanity.

I want that pain.

And I don't.

But I have.

So, romance, let me write you. Let me be mad. Let me be human.