If there’s one thing that I would really want to be good at, but unfortunately I’m not that capable of yet (haha because I still hope I will be, one day), is to be a person with an overflow of creativity – thoughts and actions. I wanted to belong to the We are the Creative People Department in this lifetime, those people who breathe the arts: designers, painters, composers, writers, teachers, film enthusiasts, social workers, etc. I wanted to imbibe the word “creative” so much because I believe it means that you are placed in this earth with a sole purpose: to Create. And that is such a very wonderful privilege.
I know I have the skill with the kind of art I wanted to be involved in – I can draw; I can paint; I can write poems, poetry, essays and lyrics to songs. I can do all these things. What I can’t do, most times, is to imagine my own art.
I can draw and paint anything just as long as I have a picture where I can copy it from. But if I don’t have any visuals, my drawings or paintings will always end up abstract. Writing, on the other, is something I pursued because I felt the need of having to deliver it in my life. When I was in College, that’s when I made up my mind and told myself: Yes, I want to write. I want to be heard. I want my words to be a hand and reach out to someone’s soul (even, just one soul). I want to make this choice.
I tried my hardest writing. I literally jump off the cliff of not knowing where to start, what to say and how to say things. But over time, I learned. Writing became a friend who confides with every single doubt, worry, hope and freedom that bugs my mind on days when I forgot that I can make a difference. Writing was there, through and through. Most – if not all – things that I write, though, are stories that I experienced with real people in real situations in my very own life. I can make those into poems, lyrics of a song, essay or just plain prose. I am a non-fiction writer – the only things I can write down is my own: how I felt touching every rough crater of this world with my own hands.
Those were the best arts I can offer: abstract and experiences. Both are messy, but I believe, both of them are all sorts of beautiful. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how far my Creative go.
November is just around the corner, and when this month comes, expect the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) season again! And that means, anyone who will participate in it will be writing and finishing a novel by the end of November. And by novel, they mean fiction. Everyone is invited to make their own stories and just keep bleeding words into that novel: keep writing. And while this seems a huge challenge for me because (1) I don’t do fictions; (2) I don’t have a planned story yet and I only got less than three days left to conceptualize; and (3) we only got one month to finish… I think this will be a good way to stretch my mind and learn, ergo, I decided to…. *drumroll* …participate in this year’s NaNoWriMo!
I may have not been given an overflow of imagination to make hundreds of novels, but, I know in my heart that I had been blessed with persistence and boldness to venture out on new things that would make me feel alive.
I want to be a good writer one day. I am so hungry to be better. (Hannah Brencher)
And I am making this choice. Again.