Five o’clock a.m. I was on my toes (or to be precise, on my bottom), to take on the last writing activities of the month when I was called for a more important job: wrapping 350 pieces of newly-cooked buchi for today’s workers’ convention. If any of you are reading this, yes, those cute, tasty things are quite salty, because I probably was. I was proud of my wrapping skills, though not the taping, and those poor men and women might have had a hard time unwrapping the goods. But it got to them, thank goodness, without knowing how stressful the morning was to us.
Stress is not something you’d like to happen on the last day of the month, but I’ve accepted it; we don’t get to control what happens. We could, however, adjust our perspectives. My perspective was madly adjusted from nearsightedness to far this month when gasp I took on a full revision of my MS. I don’t know when I stopped promising “This will be the last,” because none was ever the last, and I ate all those words and choked on it. When I realized I needed a ball-grabbing intro, I took on the challenge of a revamp, juiced up the important scenes, and without crying or complaints (which I did before), began again. By 29th, there came a punch of surprise; something was off when I read the finished result, and taking inspiration from my old works, I was punched in the face. The ball-grabbing intro was already written. Like, last year.
I’ve said this once, and I’ll say this again: kill me.
But there were good parts: the scenes that needed attention were edited, the word count was adjusted, and it’s got sinigang. I tell you, it’s even got taragis. It’s funny. I am shaking my head at this ultimate silly piece of literature I committed three years of my life with, and yes, the growth was slow, but it’s worth it.
I have always been a late bloomer. And late bloomers bloom best.
October was a miracle for me when it comes to projects, because they came miraculously when I needed them, and now I’ve got my fill. My dream clients are the ones who can make bets use of the bouncy, lively voice I often write with, whose projects appear to talk to the reader out of the (digital) pages and make them feel like friends. I’m opening my doors for those opportunities, but for now, I’m embracing what I have with these hands and celebrate them.
My year’s tax duties are filed (since the next one is on January 2019). 2551Q got me really, really confused, until I realized I needed to download the new Offline e-BIR app, which is still ugly (sorry, not sorry), and find the new form there. Got them paid – the heftiest yet – but I look at it as a reflection of God’s blessings. I mean, the greater the taxes, the greater the income.
I finally got my driver’s license! [HEAVY SCREAMING] I mean, I though I need to wait and wilt and die in the local LTO office before I finally get my plastic card, but I didn’t. Oh, before that, I had to confirm my blood type, AND GUESS WHAT IT IS. None of my parents has it. I think Tatay does, though. We’re born to give.
One of the new projects I’ve opened this month is Caris Writes, my very own poetry chapbook on Instagram. Please, please, please follow it! I hope to post a lot of inspiring things! I’m so grateful to see people bookmarking my posts and keeping it as a talisman for their future use.
What else happened this month? Well, I queried and nudged and got a sad pass from one of my favorite agents. That was heartbreaking, especially that it was an agency response. However! I! Got a full request! Which of course, I blundered, because I keep changing things, because I’m anxious