Why Write at All?

Why do I write? What motivates you to write? Why write fiction in particular?

There could be thousands reasons why I write but at this point, I cannot seem to put into words one ultimate explanation how writing became my second nature – from composing simple poetry to weaving complicated story plots.

If I would take Maslow’s theory of need, it would definitely be placed at the base of my pyramid. I can consider writing as a need to keep in touch with my inner self, to liven up the little child in me – curiously inquisitive, virtuously honest and carelessly blissful. Through these, I am able to see the world in a different light, analyze things in different perspective and give meanings to almost anything that seems meaningless to our existing world. 

Escapism as it may sound, but writing also provides me an alley to escape from the busy roundabouts and rendezvous of my daily life, thus, welcoming me to a different world that I, myself have created on my own which is free from the limitations societal norms, corporate policies and hierarchical rules. The freedom that writing gives allows me to express my thoughts loudly, soundly sane and devoid of any minute criticisms. 

If significant moments can be captured in time through photographs and video recording, my way of doing it is through writing where every detail are encapsulated in fine selection of words and ornately structured arrangements of language intended to serve its purpose.

Different facets of life fuel my passion in writing. The intricacies of people’s experiences tempt my creative bones to magnify emotions and illustrate their situation in the most artistic way through writing, may it be the subject of felicitation, lamentation or anything in between. 

Personal experiences and feelings strike me the same way. Most of the time, writing serves as medium of self expression, thus giving me an outlet to pour down emotions which in real life could uttered in any possible way. 

Lastly, I take my motivation from the perpetual admiration to the idea of goodness and beauty that continuously inspire me to look beyond the nature of creation and to be a servant of its creator.

In my own judgment, writing fiction is an act of liberation from pretentious world; for fiction serves as a mirror of reality because it reflects the naked idea of truth – unscathed by pretenses, opinions and spite. Fiction could be a fabrication of imaginative thoughts and it utterly expresses opposition to facts but the irony of it is that it can only be culled from the latter. This is then the manifestation of fiction’s purpose: to go beyond entertaining and serve the truth subliminally to its willing recipients.

Ref: image from nateguimondart.com

Language, Learning, Identity, Privilege - A Reaction

On the 24^th of August 2011, the Manila Bulletin, a leading broadsheet in the Philippines, published Jaime Soriano’s article entitled ‘Language, Learning, Identity, Privilege.’ In this particular article, Filipino language was put on a spot but in a different light – not as the language as we know it, not as a national language that we take pride of and definitely not honored as the mother tongue of the writer but rather something that is insignificant and trifling.

According t the article, learning Filipino was important for its practical purposes. “…Filipino was the language of the world outside the classroom. It was the language of the streets: it was how you spoke to the tindera when you went to the tindahan, what you used to tell your katulong that you had an utos, and how you texted manong when you needed ‘sundo na’,” Soriano said. These lines place Filipino undoubtedly as the language of the commoners, the language of the uneducated.

I find the article very provocative in the sense of nationalistic pride and very tempting for a literary retaliation but the most evocative are the last paragraphs of the article that states that: “ But perphaps this is not so bad in a society of rotten beer and stinking fish. For while Filipino may be the language of identity, it is the language of the streets. It might have the capacity to be the language of learning, but it is not the language of the learned. It is neither thhe language of the classroom and the laboratory, nor the language of the boardroom, the court room or the operating room. It is not the language of privilege.”

On the other hand, there is no point in arguing with the facts for the reason that there is no statistical figure mentioned, and the speaker is speaking from his personal perspective and experiences but this writing can sprout incessant branching of questions. I cannot help but wonder if our national language is inferior to English in terms of being a medium for learning.

According to Sir Jeffrie, a colleague from the graduate school, “based on what’s happening in our country today, Filipino language is inferior to English.” “I had only two subjects in Filipino when I was in elementary and high school,” Ma’am Andrea added.  Apparently, English is the general medium of instructions for most subjects in school but the question remains if this situation really illustrates that our national language inferior.

Several classmates of mine in my Linguistics class beg to disagree. Ms. R.E.M. took a stand saying, “ there is no inferior language,” and I take her side for I also believe that every language has its own identity. Language was not created overnight and was not made without a purpose. For these, a language cannot be compared with another form. “No. They have their own systems and characteristics to be the medium for learning,” Ma’am Matela added.

Taking the word’s proper context, 'inferior' would mean something that is lower in status or ability. Personally, that particular adjective cannot be used to describe a specific language for every language has its own complex structure, system and culture; as Sir Timothy, a colleague of mine, would put it: “the most complex of ideas and feelings can only be expressed using mother language.”