FTW!

The last term had been unbelievably hectic for me that it took me quite a while before I was able to relish the fact that I have been given the Box Office Entertainment screenwriting award from the Guillermo Mendoza Memorial Foundation. I was actually in class last March 13 when messages from friends started pouring in congratulating me after they heard the news on TV. I haven't even seen an episode of SNN (Showbiz News Ngayon or Showbiz News Now - the Pinoy E! News) until my cousin Grace forwarded me the link to the following video (zip forward to 04.18s for the actual announcement!)

The first time I ever skirted an award was back in 2007, when the Philippine Movie Press Club (PMPC) nominated me and my co-writers Van and Carmi for our YOU ARE THE ONE screenplay. I knew we wouldn't win since we were up against the likes of Direk Joey Reyes who was also nominated for Kasal Kasali Kasalo. Nevertheless, I decided to attend the ceremony. I figured it might be the only chance I'll have to be nominated for an award. That wasn't a self-deprecating thought. At that point, Star Cinema had been relegating me to romance-comedies and frankly, that's not usually the route that leads you to an acceptance speech.

I also wanted to go since Direk Cathy said she was attending. It was also her first time to be nominated, you see, so we were both quite excited at the thought of experiencing what it was like. On the day of the 2007 Star Awards for Movies, my good friend Norman graciously agreed to attend the ceremony at the UP Theater with me. We were actually late as Laida and I met up in Town Center earlier. She even helped me pick out the purple outfit I wore to the event, since I didn't have time go home and change.

It was an extraordinary experience attending that. It felt to me like my membership in the mainstream filmmaking community had somehow been legitimized. Prior to that, I had only moved within the back rooms of Star Cinema, Cinemalaya and a small corner of the independent movement. Norms and I soaked up the unique privilege of seeing so many people from the industry in one place. We were amused by the kind of characters they were, how they spoke, how they moved, and how an awarding ceremony was like. When the event finally ended, we took pictures for posterity.

With this recent award, I have to say that I did have an inkling that it might come. Or maybe, 'I hoped it would' puts it more accurately. A VERY SPECIAL LOVE was the Nth incarnation of a story I wrote for John Lloyd and Sarah whose working title was "If The Shoe Fits." I kinda knew I was on to something special because it was instantly approved when I first pitched it. I enjoyed writing the script so much that I felt its huge potential to be a blockbuster early on. The big bosses' reaction to the script confirmed that too. Knowing that it would be helmed by my long-time collaborator Direk Cathy whose metier was the rom-com also assured me of its success.

That's why I also felt really bad that I was going to miss the shoot for A VERY SPECIAL LOVE. I had already moved to London by the time they started that I didn't get to go to any shooting day. I usually try to be on location as often as I can because it's a great opportunity to learn and feel all glitzy, what with popular stars within arm's length. This was a particularly special case, however, because as I've written before, AVSL was to be my first time to be credited as a solo writer.

A VERY SPECIAL LOVE eventually realized all the hopes and expectations I and Star Cinema had for it. It broke box office records to become the third highest grossing local movie of all time. Its sequel, YOU CHANGED MY LIFE, eventually became THE highest grossing local movie ever.

I was familiar with the awards from the Guillermo Mendoza Memorial Foundation, but I also knew that our film faced tough competition from another Star Cinema film. I used to excitedly think about the prospect of AVSL winning all the Box Office Entertainment awards, but since it was becoming more and more likely that we wouldn't, I honestly forgot about it. I guess it helped that I was preoccupied with school work.

Thus the utter surprise when texts about the award came. Soon, Facebook messages from friends also came in (thanks to Norms, Batch Sherlyn, Kristel, Ritz, Kris B, Tia, Mars, Rosa, JDV, Natz, Joyce, Mahal, Thesa, Shi, Peachy, Concep, Aimee, Jacque, Caye, and RR). My friend Lara who is based in Japan and the namesake of Sarah Geronimo's character in the movie even saw the SNN episode on TFC.

I am finally starting to wrap my mind around the idea that I have just received my FIRST award as a screenwright. The ecstasy is slowly creeping in as well, especially since it's spring break and there's really nothing much to do here but think about what has been happening in the world while I've been recluse at LFS.

Perhaps, even more exciting for me now, is finding out that A VERY SPECIAL LOVE also reaped nominations from THIS year's STAR AWARDS for Movies, comprised of movie, director, movie actor, cinematographer, editor, production designer, musical scorer, sound engineer and...! Original movie screenplay of the year :)

The prospect of winning is, to be quite honest, exhilarating. I'm not even going to hazard an estimate of my chances. I just want to enjoy and share this excitement with my friends! After all, what really makes me happy is when I get acknowledgment from the people who matter to me :)

Rest, Manong!

I first met Manong Gilbert Perez while working on the script of the Piolo-Regine movie. Carmi, Van and I were co-writing with Emman to flesh out a story he conceptualized. I liked working with Manong, and truth be told, I was kind of awestruck whenever we met with him. His reputation precedes him. Besides, it felt to me like a huge privilege to work with an established director like him while I was just breaking into the movie industry.

Manong was quite easy to work with, though the whole process wasn't exactly devoid of bumps. In the end, that script was passed over for another story. Eventually, our team was dropped from that project altogether. About a year or so later, the Piolo-Regine project became "Paano Kita Iibigin."

The next time I met Manong was when I was brought in to help out in "Supah Papalicious." While our previous encounter sailed smoothly enough, writing for this movie was more turbulent. Coming in late in the project, smack in the middle of production, my participation was naturally wrought with problems, creative and otherwise. It culminated in a rather painful misunderstanding. The worst part of it was that though it involved me and Manong, it didn't really happen between us. Suffice it to say that he felt bad about things I did, and I felt bad about how he reacted, but we never discussed it between us. It was a huge issue for me, but the other people involved in the Vhong-Makisig movie thought that it wasn't as big as I'm imagining it to be. Maybe that truly was the case. Manong, after all, is known to be as temperamental as he was talented. Perhaps its the Catholic virtue of guilt nagging at me, but I still hoped to eventually get the chance to talk to him.

Today, I learned that Manong has passed away a few nights ago.

I feel bad that I was never given the chance to clear things with him. To tell him that despite the unfortunate circumstances, I still deem it a privilege to work have worked with him.


In his passing, he joins Galo Ador, Jr., another genius of a writer with whom I wrote Agent X44. Another loss in ABS's roster of talents.

















Rest in peace, Manong!

The Cruelty of Writing Part 1: Turning Tables

Up until the morning of April 28, Monday last week, I wasn’t sure if my plan to go overseas was pushing through. I was initially intending to leave earlier, but all the effort I put in informing Star about my schedule so we could accommodate both my personal plans and the production timetable for the John-Lloyd-Sarah project was rendered futile (and quite expected, really).

Since September of last year when I submitted the third draft of this script and its development eventually put on hold, I’ve been asking for the management’s feedback so I could start working on the new draft. When the project was yet again greenlighted in March, I already had plans to leave for Europe. I told them about that, trying my best not to sigh in frustration and ask why they’re only making me work on the revisions now, six months after I submitted the last draft. When we had our feedback meeting, it was almost a little over a full month from April 28. I was hoping to write more than one draft so no more significant revisions would be required. Despite the little time we had left, all sorts of delays came to play, including more than 2 weeks of our time wasted on developing an entirely new story which was ultimately chucked for my old one. In the end, I was given only two weeks to write one new draft.

Naturally, the writing got in the way of my preparations for my trip. I guess it was wishful thinking on my part for my bosses and colleagues to take that into consideration. I had to juggle writing and running last-minute errands like shopping for supplies, settling my personal accounts like my home cable, mobile phone, and internet.

I finally submitted the fourth draft of that script on Saturday, April 26. (One good thing that came out of all the setbacks was it allowed me to attend my good friend Duke’s wedding in Batulao/Tagaytay.)

People in the office wanted to meet with me the following Tuesday, April 29, so I can personally hear from them the management’s feedback on that fourth draft. I told them I’d try my best to make it, but it was unlikely that I’d make it.

By Monday evening, I told them that it was really not possible for me to go to Star anymore. They asked why, and I texted that it was because I was scheduled to fly out of Manila then. The following day, Tuesday, I managed to have my flight moved to Wednesday morning instead. I told Star about this, but also said that despite the change in schedule, I still won’t be able to meet with them since I’ll be needing the free time to fix things for my departure. They called me that same day to ask if I could instead write my “vision” and “theme” for the script so they could use it for the Creative Meeting on Friday. I explained it to them over the phone, but they still insisted that I write “in my own words” what my vision and theme was.

Now let me just say that I don’t really know what else I have to do to spell out what my vision for the story is. I don’t discount that I may not be successful in making the script reflect our intentions, but that’s a different matter all together. But to ask me for my ‘vision’ and ‘theme’? How insulting is that!? (And as one friend of mine pointed out, how lazy!) The script has been submitted for their perusal. At the very first page of this new draft, I even intro’d the script with a statement of its theme, a blurb of sorts, stating what I intended to be the movie’s theme. And need I mention that we’ve been meeting and discussing this project since last year? Haven’t we discussed the characters, the story, the theme, and the intentions in so many words? Then again, I guess insulting the writer is something they don’t really care about.

The worst part about this whole incident is I wasn’t able to submit this “vision-slash-theme” by Friday. I landed on Heathrow Wednesday evening, and the following day, I already attended classes. I hadn’t settled in properly. I didn’t have my own phone line yet, so I only relied on my roaming. I received a call from Star but I was commuting at that time and didn’t realized it was them until I got home. Besides, I was already refraining from using my roaming cause I’m close to exceeding my phone account’s credit limit. If I got my account frozen, I’d be helpless out here. I eventually got my phone’s WAP working and checked my email from there. I saw an email from Star asking how I was and reminding me of the “vision” I owed them. It was already past the deadline by then, so all I was able to do was apologize and explain why I couldn’t submit it on time.

I’ve been feeling guilty about my failure to submit that “vision” and “theme.” Yet as if self-flagellation wasn’t enough, I got this email from Star saying they understand my situation, but at the same time said that my failure to submit my “vision” had “a lot of repercussions on the project timetable.” They reminded me that we still needed to grind by May 8. Because of that, I’d have to settle once and for all whether I can still commit to doing the revisions from where I am now and correspond via email, or if I’d consent to bringing in a new writer to the project. They even gave an ultimatum: If they did not hear from me by Sunday, 11PM Manila, they’d be forced to bring in a new writer. All those were boldfaced, italicized and underlined – now if that wasn’t a threat, I don’t know what is.

I only got to read that email Sunday, 9PM UK time. That was 4AM, Manila time.

I swear, this job of writing for movies (for Star? I don’t really know how much I can generalize) can be really cruel.

That evening before I left, I already brought up the issue of bringing a new writer. I volunteered to discuss it with them since their calls were usually only about the deadlines. Since I anticipated that my hectic schedule, the distance, time difference, and practical difficulty of my situation could possibly compromise my commitments to the project, I told them that even if I don’t want to, I know that it would be more convenient for the project to bring in a new writer.

Of course, I expressed my apprehension despite indirectly agreeing to that recourse. After all, this material, this story, this script, has been mine entirely. I researched it, pitched, developed, wrote the script, reworked the story, re-researched, rewrote the script, got it approved… all by myself. I got little to no help doing all that – of couse, by this, I don’t mean to discount the help from our director, the CA and my boss – I say this in the context of not having any co-writer. But yeah, no help in all four drafts of the script that got us to this stage when the management has finally committed to making the movie. And again, I stress that even when the project was put on hold in September last year, I insisted on getting the feedback from the management so I could start revising it, or at least mull over how I’d go about doing that. I think it’s just natural and justified that I expect and hope to retain ownership after all that.

However, I’m now left with no choice but to relinquish the fruit of my labor. Not only that. Despite trying my best to be worth my salt writing for this and all the other movie projects I’ve been involved with, it now seems like it’s my own fault!

And here I thought my effort in avoiding this situation would prevent the tables from getting turned on me. I thought wrong. What makes it more depressing is this would’ve been a milestone for me as it was to be my first solo credit. Still, I’ve been easing myself into foregoing that career high point for later. Especially since recently, my boss unabashedly declared sans apology that writers are usually the first casualties in binds like this. I suppose it was foolish to expect my concern to take precedence over other concerns in the project. Plus I do admit to having my share of deficiencies. But to be made to feel like I screwed myself over is just going too far. After all the diligence and dedication I invested in my work and this project in particular, this is what I get?

How’s that for cruelty.

Labor Day Weekend At Masbate

The weekend before the Labor Day celebration, Karmela, Chrissie and I flew to Masbate to do a little R&R. When I said yes to joining this vacation with my Law School blockmates, I wasn't quite sure I'll be free. I decided to risk it because it was to be my first trip with them, the CCs (Cosmic Comrades. Don't ask). Plus I was really desperate to make the most of the summer season. I did go to Boracay last April prior to this particular trip, but that was far from relaxing. Truth be told, most of the vacations I take are not. That's why this particular out-of-towner was a stand out. It was a much welcome breather from the stress of work. I've been praying for a break these past few months cause I haven't really had one since the onslaught that was "You Got Me!," and already, I'm working on a new project. I do know how to count my blessings so I'm not really complaining. Work in Star Cinema is hard to come by, and I know better than to act up when blessed with an opportunity to write.

We flew in Saturday morning, April 28, via Asian Spirit. After landing on Masbate soil, Karmela took us to Jollibee for quick mid-morning snacks, then we did some last minute shopping. We then took a trike to the wharf where her parents were waiting for us in their private pump boat. We sailed for about an hour and finally arrived at the Franco's provincial rest house. It's situated on a beach in Baranggay Titong, Masbate City (I think. Kar, you'll have to correct me on the city, hehe...).

It was such a beautiful house. Just a few steps away from the sea. Kar's Mom said that when the tide is high, the water could even lap the house's front wall. After setting camp in the guest room, we proceeded to the terrace (which they referred to as the 'balkon') and spent the time waiting for lunch to be served by playing with the Francos' Boston Terriers, Chessy and Blackie. That was to be our routine for the next few days. We would wake up, feast on cuisines prepared by Kar's parents and relatives, watch a DVD (among those I got to watch/rewatch: "28 Days Later," "Shaun Of The Dead," "A Scanner Darkly," "Chungking Express"), hang out, sleep again, wake up again, read, hang out, have dinner. I didn't mention breakfast cause I managed to oversleep every day and wake up just in time for lunch.

The following day, Sunday, we got to watch the locals engage in what seemed to be a favorite past time. Sabong (cockfighting). It was such a crude setup. They didn't even have a formal cockpit for the roosters. The men who had money betting on the clashing poultry formed a circle around them and served as cockpit boundaries. Kar's dad even bet on a few roosters and won.

Later that afternoon, the three of us took to the beach for the first time. We got Kar's inflatable raft and tested our rowing skills. Chrissie and I hogged the raft that first day, while Kar enjoyed swimming with her cousin Ai-Ai, who also served as our tourist guide. There was also a bamboo raft with make shift benches and nipa roofing propped on it. When we got tired from rowing against the oncoming waves, we stationed on that bamboo raft and bathed in the sun. Later, upon my return in Manila, I found out from my doctor that I wasn't supposed to do anything physical a week after my operation. I just had a tonsilectomy so my throat was not in tiptop condition yet. That still didn't stop me from enjoying our stay there. In fact, I managed to munch on a local treat they called "molido." It's a sweet pastry-like thing that reminded me of nougat. Other than that, however, mine was a diet of soup, pancit bihon, and vanilla ice cream.

After showering, the three of us lolled in the balkon, watching the locals enjoy the lazy Sunday afternoon. Kids frolicked on the sand as the women and the teen-agers chatted while partaking of halo-halo bought from the small stand set up beside the Francos' house. The rest of the men who were not busy making meals out of the cockfights' casualties were still engaged in the sport.

Watching all that was very therapeutic. Everything was so simple. Looking around, everyone seemed so happy, here in this barrio which did not even have electricity and needed to tap into the Francos' generator in order a light bulb and a television set work. Kar, Chrissie and I had a ball just watching kids wrestle and tumble on the rough sand. I actually intended to make this a working vacation for me. I even brought my laptop with me. But that sweet moment, I thought, "To hell with my deadline." I decided to just soak up the idyllic Masbate atmosphere and leave the rest of the world behind.

The next day, Monday, I spent the afternoon reading on the bamboo raft while Karmela had a go on the inflatable raft with Chrissie. They actually did well, rowing much further to the open sea than Chrissie and I did the previous day. I think it was because Chrissie was more confident after having tried it with me that Sunday. That, or she just trusted Karkar more. Meanwhile, I managed to read more than two-thirds of "Harry Potter And The Order Of The Phoenix." Karmela and Chrissie got back from rowing and we decided to spend the rest of the afternoon strolling along the countryside, with Ai-Ai leading the way.

Tuesday was Labor Day, the day we were to fly back to Manila. We all woke up early despite my not having enough sleep. I was up late finishing the rest of the fifth Harry Potter book. Karmela's parents joined us on the trip back. At the Masbate city proper, we ran into a Labor Day parade led by a militant party list group (Akbayan? Bayan Muna?) and heard roving cars announcing Ping Lacson's visit to the province later that afternoon. Then, at the airport, we managed to catch a glimpse of Kiko Pangilinan who was also just arriving for a campaign sortie. It was like after being detached for a good three days, we were being reminded that it was election season in the real world. And that quickly, I knew, we were back to the same stressful days from which I longed to be saved.

Thanks again, Karkar, for your family's warm hospitality! I really enjoyed myself in Masbate. Hiyas, too bad you weren't able to go with us. Below are our pictures from that trip. Enjoy! Hope we could do it again sometime :)

Astoria

The view from the full glass window of our room in Astoria's quite impressive. Somehow, it helps in relieving the stress of writing. The last time I was here, it was to rush a script for the Piolo-Regine project. After numerous drafts, the project was shelved (it's back in development again, but with another team).

Now, I'm rushing another script, and it's even tighter than the Piolo-Reg and my last project.

Iniisip ko na lang, 'At least, may project!' :-)

See Me Malaya

Today is officially the start of the Cinemalaya Independent Film Festival.

I used to dread the length of time I was made to wait for the results to come out, and now, it's actually here, and I'm part of it.

During the Sinetaktakan last week, when all the film makers involved were asked to discuss their films and the peripheral issues attached to independent filmmaking, I mentioned how nervous (nerbyous, ika nga, to better underscore my emotions) I felt about the coming week. We were asked to rate our films. I gave my own film a 9, saying that I subtracted a point because I was forced to edit out some of the scenes and sequences in order to meet the 20-minute maximum running time the competition rules imposed.

However, I clarified that how I rated "Labada" shouldn't be confused with an objective evaluation of my film. Most people would agree that any creative work can never be evaluated objectively. It's just not possible to quantify the merits of a creative output. I told the audience that with only a week left before the festival, the jitters are worse than ever.

The moderator told us first-timers that based on last year's festival, we'd probably be on automatic pilot mode once the festival starts. The deluge of emotions and the flurry of the events almost guarantee we won't even know what hit us.

It was a welcome thought.

Now that the day has come, I'm not sure how to describe what I'm feeling. There's a part of me that's excited about the good things that may be in store for me and my film. And there's another part that can't wait to see all of this over and done with.

Cinemalaya seems to imply a liberation of sorts. I've yet to see what it will do for me.

Hung Out To Dry

Originally written on 11 April of this year.

I’m still reeling from the excitement.

A few hours ago, I was in the process of reading and cleaning my email inbox. After deleting countless egroup digests, an email that started this way, popped up:



April 11, 2006

MR. RAZ DE LA TORRE
# 38 Kalye Emerald, Tierra Pura VI
Tandang Sora, Quezon City

Dear Mr. de la Torre,



I was instantly curious about the formal salutation and eerily precise address...


In behalf of the Cinemalaya 2006 Organizing Committee, I would like to inform you that your entry to the Short Feature category…



I called out to the high heavens even before I reached the end of the email. I was ecstatic. I didn’t need to finish the email, and it wasn’t after jumping up and down for a good ten minutes did I actually finish reading it. I was hugging Sherlyn, a close friend who happened to be reading my email over my shoulder at that time (a pet peeve I managed to let slide this one time). The email, as it turns out, came from the Competition Director of this year’s Cinemalaya. It bore the news of my short film “Labada” making it to the Cinemalaya’s Short Feature category’s finalists.

It is such an unbelievable feeling.

You wish it would happen. You pray for it to happen. You go over and over the circumstances that could make it happen... but when it does, you still can't believe it’s happening. Being a finalist makes me feel like I’ve already won. I used to think that when Oscar nominees say that during the red carpet interviews, it's just a load of bull. Now I realize they probably mean it, if my own incredulity is any indication.

When I submitted “Labada” as an entry to the Cinemalaya short feature category at the beginning of the year, I kept it to myself and a few members of the crew who worked with me. I’m terribly insecure about things like this and I wanted to shield myself from the potential disappointment of not making it as a finalist. After all, my fears were founded. Last year’s Cinemalaya festival, which produced wonderful works like Mansyon (short feature best picture), Pepot Artista (full-length feature best picture), Big Time and Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros, was groundbreaking. It opened the eyes of many film buffs to the local independent cinema. As a result, more aspiring filmmakers were inspired to venture in independent film making. Myself included. I figured this year’s competition would lure more films. It’s like opening the floodgates.

The truth is, I had confidence in my short digital film. I always tell my friends that as long as I am entertained by my own work, I consider myself accomplished. I usually think this way about the storylines I submit to Star Cinema. Nevermind if the core group (the elite circle of power-wielders in the company) doesn't find my storyline good enough. Long as I'm happy with it, the pain of rejection becomes more bearable.

That's also true for “Labada.” However, I felt that in Cinemalaya, it’s just not enough that you like your work. The competition committee must like it too. And considering the subjective nature of film viewing, and the number of entries they must have received (36 short films this year, I heard, unless I'm mistaken), I couldn’t help but think there’s bound to be 10 other films better than mine. I believe in the wealth of undiscovered, unrecognized talent out there, and despite my desire to be included in their ranks, as most struggling artists are usually predisposed, I just didn't believe in myself enough.

Thus my reaction to the email that I just received.


* * *

Almost three months after receiving that email, I'm still reeling from the excitement.

In an effort not to preempt the news and jinx my good fortune, I put the publication of this entry on the back burner. I finally managed to write about it after the press conference last July 5. That, and a few newspaper articles that featured my name as finalist, finally legitimized the deal. I just submitted the miniDV copies for the Jury. Prior to that, I kept going back to the 'cutting board,' desperately figuring out other ways to improve the film before finally leaving it at the mercy of the viewing public. I'm done with the washing, it's time to hang it out to dry.

The excitement has been laced with an anxiety borne by the thought that no one might watch it, or conversely, that people might and wonder why Labada was included. God knows I've felt that way about a lot of films featured in various festivals (last year's Cinemalaya included). Anticipating being at the receiving end of all those criticisms scares the hell out of me. I can't help but feel personal about it. Like my film, I feel like I, too, have been hung out to dry.

It's a realm of emotions I'm willing to tread, however frightening it might be. I just comfort myself that if all else fails, I at least have my own sense of fulfillment to retreat to.

Security

Last week, after watching "The Lakehouse" (starring Sandra and the ageing Keanu) and dropping off Che, I met up with my friend Jarell and decided to have a round of beers in Kalye Juan (Tomas Morato). We were sharing work angsts. He was contemplating leaving his job in Maalaala Mo Kaya (MMK), and he wanted to unload on someone lest he commit to a decision with nary a thought and end up regretting it. I gladly obliged, and took the opportunity to unload some of the work baggage that's been weighing down my shoulders. Indeed, misery loves company. And San Mig Light.

Jarell has been working for MMK for almost as long as I've been with Star Cinema. He started as a researcher, and now works as the show's head researcher. It doesn't sound like it's a big step up, but it actually is. For weeks now, he's been feeling a little stifled by the work load and the erratic and unstable income. He tried consoling himself by looking ahead, by exploring the possibilities in store for him, only to be disappointed cause there might be none. He looked at his seniors who, in Jarell's words, blew off their youth in this same job he's holding. It took them years to get where they are now, resident writers for MMK. He looks at them and sees how sucked out and wasted they are, and Jarell's suddenly not too sure if all this is truly worth it.

I asked him what his options are if he was to leave MMK. He's thinking about leaving for the Middle East to work in a hotel. His relatives tell him that he only needs to train for six months after which they are sure to find a job for him. It's not like Jarell has been dying to get into the hotel industry, but the hefty pay check the job promises to reward him will at least provide him the security he's been looking for. Being passionate about your job just isn't enough. He'd love to stick around as a writer, but right now, it's just not sensible to do so.

Our conversation corroborated the prevalent restlessness symptomatic of kids my age. Even friends with fatter salaries in other jobs don't feel like they're getting enough. Imagine how much worse it is for us who try to live off creative writing. Jarell thinks I'm lucky cause my mom's well-to-do and there to supplement the unbelievably low compensation writers like me in the Philippines get. But what of the future, when my life's completely my own and there isn't my mom's wealth to rely on anymore?

In writing, there isn't a ladder you can climb up, unlike in corporations. There are no rungs to step or hold on to to pull yourself higher. We're not assured of salary increases every X number of months of service. Rarely are we given the statutory benefits most employees get.

In writing, it's just about you and your work. Years of writing can improve one's craft, but it doesn't guarantee an increase in one's value. Companies (in this case, TV stations or film outfits) may hold you in a particular esteem, but in the end, it's still about your work. If they don't like what you hand to them on your deadline, you're asked to revise or put out of commission altogether. It takes a lot of laborious years to build on a good name, but it only takes one bad draft to be of ill-repute.

In writing, there are no tangible standards for excellence. One cannot be guaranteed a promotion after writing for a certain number of years, or after being published, or after a film you wrote grosses over a hundred million in the box office. For starters, there isn't a higher position to promote a writer to. But more importantly, excellence can't be measured because the whole business of writing, of creation, is subjective.

I feel restless because of the uncertainty. Or perhaps because I've always thought that good things come to those who are patient, to those who deserve it. This epiphany about the nature of writing as a profession tells me that you don't always get what you deserve. I want to do everything I can so I can remain in the industry, scribbling and imagining and creating until my dying breath. But it isn't all up to me, much as I want to be the one in complete control.

On top of that, I want to feel secure. I want to be assured that pursuing this passion will yield to a bright and fulfilled future. That I'll be okay for as long as I work hard and believe in my capabilities. But it isn't all up to me, much as I want it to be.

Jarell admitted that even if he ended up leaving his job, he would still want to return to it. There is still nothing he would rather do than write. He just wants to earn enough so he can focus on what he loves doing in the future.

All of a sudden, our conversation was interrupted by this commotion. A guy whose mouth was bleeding came running down from the bar above Kalye Juan. He was shouting for help, asking the men on the ground floor to block the door and not let his pursuers out. In a few seconds, four other guys appeared. Apparently, they were in an altercation upstairs. Something about the guy with the bleeding mouth being maangas. The ladies from both groups desperately tried to keep them off each other, but the four guys were too inebriated to listen to reason. The girls asked the security guard from the bar we were in to intervene, but the guard said,

"Di po sa amin yan, di ako pwedeng basta makialam."

The customers on the other table immediately fled the scene, afraid they might get involved. I told Jarell to stay put, sure that they wouldn't involve us unless we did anything stupid to call attention to ourselves. So Jarell and I just sat there to watch the ongoing ruckus.

The bleeding guy, in a major blunder, decided to take refuge inside Kalye Juan, where we were drinking (I was thinking, kundi ka ba naman tanga, e di lalo kang na-corner. Dapat nagtatatakbo ka na lang o nag-taxi paalis.) Naturally, the drunken quartet tried to follow him inside. All the Kalye Juan waiters retreated to their kitchen. The girl who was with the bleeding guy stayed outside Kalye Juan, inserted her arm through the door handles to keep it shut, and tearfully begged the drunken quartet to have mercy on her friend. The drunken quartet was relentless. It was a glass door, so they could see their target with his tail between his legs, wailing,

"Tama na, please! Sorry na nga e..."

(comment to self: "Ang yabang yabang kanina, titiklop din pala.")

They were less than a meter away from Jarell and me, who were still lounging on our chairs.

At this point, some of the other original customers from Kalye Juan had started goading the bar's security guard (the same one who washed his hands off of any obligation to get involved) to do something about the disturbance. His earlier excuse had been rendered inadmissible since they were actually inside Kalye Juan already. He was duty bound to protect the bars customers and employees. The guard reluctantly took his gun from its holster. But one of the guys saw him and started shouting at the guard,

"Ano, ipuputok mo yan? Ipuputok mo yan!? Sige nga! Sige, iputok mo!"

The guard just backed off. Obviously, the guard wasn't a believer of sticks and stones hurting the quartet's bones, cause words were enough to hurt him. I then noticed one of the guys pick up an empty glass from the table nearest to them. That's when I finally asked Jarell that we better steer clear of any flying shards or ricocheting bullets. Things were getting out of hand.

The exchange of shouts lasted for a few more minutes before being capped by one of the quartet throwing the glass at the guy when glass doors opened wide enough to allow his hand inside. The glass shattered to pieces, but fortunately hurt no one. And then, the quartet was gone.

The bleeding guy lingered inside the bar for a few more minutes before emerging. By then, the rest of the customers who witnessed the hoopla (us included) were just already talking about how the policemen are always too late the hero. And then there was the security guard! Talk about being useless! We rarely see security guards in action, but I've always had faith in them. This would've been the best time to show his wares, to finally get some piece of the action, to live up to his sworn duty. But he just backed off. Probably more afraid of hurting the our tormentors than potentially getting their innocent patrons hurt.

Which only proves my point that there is no real security in this world. Whether it be in our careers, our future, or in bar brawls. We can only do so much, and the rest, faith will have to account for.

WHAT AM I DOING HERE?

I just told my boss that I never fancied myself a writer. Not in high school, not in college, not even when I was already in Star Cinema, training to be one. When I dropped out of Law School, the only thing I knew for sure was that I wouldn't be happy making my life revolve around laws and cases, and that I wanted to make films.

I applied to Star Cinema because a few months before I dropped out of UP Law, I received an email from the UP Film Center egroups announcing an opening for its Concept Development Group (CDG). I didn't know what the job entailed. Like I said, all I knew was I wanted to be in the film industry. I jumped at the first opportunity that came my way. It didn't even matter to me that it was Star. I wasn't conscious of which production outfit did which film, or which of them was the best. An opportunity was being dangled like a carrot on a stick, and like a horse, I galloped onwards. Almost blindly, one could say.

After inquiring about the opening, I sent them my resume. I was asked to come in for an interview, but since it was the midterm season in Law then, my schedule was exaggeratedly hectic and I ended up missing my appointment. I didn't even call in to tell them I wasn't coming anymore.

A few months after, I was beside myself with regret, remembering that missed opportunity and hoping I had at least called them to explain why I couldn't come. I feared if I tried applying again, they'll remember my rude non-appearance and instantly reject me. I shared this to Lea, a friend of mine. When she heard the name of the person who sent the email to the UPFC egroups, she said the girl was her friend. It felt to me like divine intervention, and asked Lea to call the girl to ask if Star was still looking for CDG members. A few minutes after, Guia Gonzales of Star Cinema Creative Department called me on my mobile and asked me if I was still interested. Naturally, I said yes. An interview with the Star's Creative Manager was scheduled. I was requested to bring a sample storyline. A few weeks after, I was hired.

That was two years and four months ago. And here I am, still in Star Cinema, still training to be a writer. Still clueless as ever. When I got accepted, I didn’t even know the first thing about screenwriting. They told me that as a CDG member, I’d be expected to develop storylines that will be submitted to the management for evaluation. If it were deemed good enough, they were to produce it. In exchange, I’d be compensated on a monthly basis. It was the best deal an aspiring screenwriter could ask for in the Philippines. Star Cinema had the best studio system in the industry, and the setup they offered sure beats having to hone your skill independently, on a freelance basis, without any assurance of a commercial film company investing on any of the scripts you might eventually finish. What Star offered was training, connections, experience, and to a certain degree, security. The deal had its downside. I was well aware of that, and that gave me enough comfort. I thought, knowing what I was getting into would be enough to shield me from possible frustrations of having corporate people dictate what kinds of stories you should develop.

Needless to say, it was harder than I thought.

For the record, none of the projects I was involved with has been published (produced, that is). I've helped in quite a few story and script developments, but most of those have been shelved or dropped. There's one script that I helped co-write and is now in the process of being shot, but somewhere along the script's development, a script doctor was called in and all that was left in our original work is the story. All the lines that I wrote have been 'revised.'

That is perhaps the reason why I've always been frustrated when asked about my job. My career. It's because nothing seems to be happening.

So imagine the euphoria I felt when I was told that I'd be working on my first solo-writing project. It’s officially part of the training, and it didn’t really mean I was necessarily ready for the task, but it was in effect saying they’re finally risking it, and I’m the lucky one on whom they’ve decided to bestow the honor.

It was for what turned out to be a fast-track project, which in Star Cinema means double the pressure in half the time. I was to develop both the story and the script within two months following the storyline’s approval. Most veteran screenwriters are probably given at least a month to write a script, but with all the things that we needed to accomplish (including storyline revisions, sequence treatment submission and revisions, research, and creative meetings to discuss feedback from the power wielders), I was to be given only given two weeks to write the first draft of the script.

A few days after my submission, I got a call from our creative director. She said that we needed to meet soon because there were a lot of concerns regarding my first draft. It sounded like it was less than satisfactory, and that it would entail a lot of work to have it ready in time for the target grind date (start of film production).

After going through what they perceived were the problems in the script, she told me they’re bringing in reinforcements to work on the second draft of the script. Two of my colleagues are now working on it, and they are to submit their draft tomorrow. And by the sound of it, aside from the story, none of my first draft can or will be salvaged. I am to come back in on the third draft.

I remember a few summers ago, when my friends and I were on vacation in Puerto Galera. We were swimming in the beach as the sun was setting. The waves were particularly wilder and stronger at that time. We were all enjoying, playing with the gigantic waves, which at times rose higher than the tallest guy in our group. One by one they retreated back to the beach, until I was the only one left playing with the crashing waves. I was still having fun. Suddenly, a wave crashed over me, its crest falling intentionally at the back of my head, pushing me earthbound, pressing my face on the sandy ground and dragging me all the way to the shore. I couldn’t breathe for what felt like an hour. When I got back up, gasping for air, I felt betrayed and embarrassed beyond words (my friends didn’t seem to notice).

The feeling is not much different from what I felt last week, when I was told about the plan of action regarding the script I’ve been developing. Like when a rug had been pulled from under your feet, I felt betrayed and embarrassed. Luckily, my boss is very nurturing and encouraging that she allows me to vent my frustrations (even if unsolicited). After owning up to my shortcomings, I told her I’ve been feeling stifled by this writing experience. I felt like I'm made to learn the lessons belatedly, instead of being prepared for it. It didn’t help that we were being rushed to meet the target grind date (which by the way is supposed to be next week, May 2). My exact words: “It's like the situation is made ripe for me to foul up. Then naturally I do. And then that's when I'm taught and told how I should've done it, or how Star would've preferred it.”

I’m still feeling disoriented by these setbacks, but I’m trying my darndest best to take things constructively. It was then that I confessed to my boss, the creative director, more than two years since they hired me to become a writer, that I never fancied myself as one.

I don't how much training one needs to be a writer. What I fear is that it might be something that cannot be taught. I’m feeling the pangs of frustration sink in, afraid there’s no amount of training that can solve the problems they find in my script. Afraid that the only thing waiting to be realized is that screeenwriting isn’t for me after all.