I have been inspired by other writers to write about “Why I Write”: I am not putting a tag on any one, whatever or whoever influenced me is my choice, so I free my words.
I know there is this odd thing in me and I want to express it. I haven’t done it good in fashion, nor drawing, nor beading, nor sewing. It was my dream to draw and sew just like any other woman. But I couldn’t do that. My hands and eyes were too weak to do such refinement.
I had so many wants, and I tried doing it. In fact, when I was younger I never played with dolls, I liked balls and running, and cutting pictures and listing words. Exploring all the words I couldn’t understand gave me excitement. Everyone in the house tells me…”Use the dictionary.” And so did I. In fact, I think the dictionary became my bestfriend.
My mother who was a teacher bought books for us, on installment, so we could have something to read and research while she worked. She was a widow. And then, those books became my prized possessions. It brought me to different lands and different people. It brought me to glass castles, the peaceful forest, and the magical world. It let me see how beautiful God’s creation was: the planets, stars, and how science worked. I have pondered how virtues were rewarded, how people struggled for goals, and how God was in everything. These illumined my enthusiasm for life and how life should be.
Ages past, in my fine arts study of writing on a scholarship (because I could not afford, and I was a housewife, of which I took all the subjects and flanked exams), we were taught to read Filipino writers. Of course, I did it and read all the foreign writers I could read from Shakespeare, Lamb, Hemingway, and everyone. And though I love my language, I dispute the barriers of my native tongue and try my own writing diction and style in a second language. Maybe, I am avoiding scars; writing in my own language would cause me dishonesty. In a sense, I don’t deem I’m better than anyone, and in my second language. I just feel so free. For as long as I can write; I’m not serious following writing dogmas, I am impatient counting syllables, and impatient selling my work just to please myself. Maybe, I want to do it slowly like cracking eggshells.
I write, because I love writing and no one can stop me. My dream is to share good reading materials, in any form.
However, I wouldn’t insist on anyone reading me though my wish is to be read. For what are books, if they rot in the shelves? This is why I write.
Rose Flores – Martinez
Ishallwrite
rosevoc2
http://rfvietnamrose09.blogspot.com
http://roseprayers.blogspot.com
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