I can’t seem to get started today. This is the third time I have sat down in front of my laptop and I still have to put a line on the eagerly waiting page. Other things get into my mind. A few household chores intrude themselves and every time this happens I stand up to attend to them no matter how trivial or least urgent they were. The intrusions seem to be welcomed ones and I probably felt relieved each time I got to postpone filling up white space.
Do I really want to write or is it just one of those nurtured notions from my youth when I was pursuing a literature course? I had writing heroes then and have read most of the pieces of these Philippine literary lions…NVM Gonzalez, Nick Joaquin, Greg Brillantes and others. I longed to see my name in print but have never had a piece set on paper that I would consider worthy of sharing publicly. Will I always be reluctant to write? Instead of getting inspired by my heroes they may have given me some sort of inferiority complex, a feeling that I will never be good enough.
Instead of pursuing the muse I put all my efforts behind having a career in Advertising and Marketing. This I have done with some success and was able to provide my family with more than the basic wherewithal for existence. Now in retirement and tired of the frenetic race that I had just gotten out of, I searched my mind for things that I might want to do and writing came to mind. I haven’t done any writing except for the usual business stuff. I have written good business correspondence, excellent reports, rah-rah notes to my people and during my earlier career days, some creditable advertising copy. All these comprised my writing for more than forty years while pursuing commercial ends. Whether this would be enough reason for me to embark on a writing vocation is something I would have to resolve myself. On further thought, any contemplation to become a professional writer would be considered a delusion of a grand scale.
This notion of becoming a writer has always been a secret one. No encouragement can be expected from anyone because nobody knew that I aspired to be a writer nor were they aware if the talent existed in me.