June 18, 2016
Back when I was in grade school and in high school, I dreamed to be a novelist. My friends were my paper and pen. I often sat in the corner of the classroom and I preferred to be silent when the teacher was out. Some of my classmates said that I was boring but when they started to get to know me, they were surprised by how I could drag them to different emotions just by reading my stories. They found that my silence is my creativity.
I could still remember when my teacher asked the class to write our own short stories. Most of the time I wrote when every one in the house was asleep. I tried to write just a short story but when I was writing, there were many ideas of plots and scenes that came out naturally. There was the stream of consciousness that I could not resist. In the end, I was able to write a novelette instead of a short story.
My teacher said not to delete scenes from it because it was a masterpiece. He asked me to continue what could make it better. Then he ordered me to create a new story that should be a short story that I must submit as a requirement. In other words, the one that I first wrote was never submitted but I kept it and I wanted to improve it. I didn’t know the beauty of what I wrote until college.
My classmates in college asked me if I had written any story. I told them that I wrote something when I was in high school. They asked me to read it to them. I did and they listened carefully. After reading the novelette, I was flattered by how they could imagine the characters and the scenes the same as I was imagining. They even got affected by some of the lines. They admired the lead characters even just by hearing the story and they even talked about it.
As a writer, it was nice to hear that people appreciated our stories, how they could recall the scenes and the characters and how they could relate the lesson to life. But there was nothing to brag about. For many people it was a good read but unfortunately, the paper was destroyed by a typhoon. Now the story just remained in our memory. And it is one of the memories that I reminisce.