Where Did You Learn to Write Like That?
Over one long Easter weekend, an old friend of mine found me again. I’m still writing, I said, and gave him the link to my blog. He e-mailed back this question: “Where did you learn to write like that?”
I have no easy answers - it takes a lifetime to become a writer. As a child I always made up stories in my mind, but I wanted to be a doctor. Then at fourteen, I had an epiphany. I loved reading, languages and writing, and I realized they’d been shaping my destiny. I was meant to be a writer. After that, it was all that mattered – in school, at home, in my hobbies and daydreams.
Most writers I know are readers, and I grew up in a house full of books. They lined up a wall in the living room, filled up the shelves in the bedrooms. We kept them in drawers and musty old trunks. We had a virtual library - of bestsellers, references, literary classics, science books, whodunits, children’s books, newspapers, magazines, comics and schoolbooks, including those that belonged to grandfather. At our house, we spent our free time reading for fun.
As a family where both mother and father were teachers, discussions over the dinner table were inevitable. And so it was with us. At these times, we all shared what we knew, asked questions, had arguments, and settled them. It was done in the spirit of give and take, and to their credit my parents never lectured down to us. We were equals all learning from each other.
Bookworms we were, but not bookish. Fortunately, our knowledge of things and ideas was tempered by the wisdom of experience. Our parents and elders had lived through hard times, and survived a great world war. They told us stories from the past, and we listened. Soon we realized that books don’t tell the whole story, and that life’s best lessons can come from those who’ve lived it before.
Writers learn to tell stories, because they once heard stories told. This is true because I once wrote a story, based on a something I heard as a child. It was a classic trickster tale, where the hero outsmarts his antagonist by talking his way out of the crisis. I took this oral piece of literature, and embellished it with new details. To my amazement, that story later won a literary prize. The trickster had done it again.
Writers learn to write by writing. It’s a no-brainer, but it can’t be said enough. You learn by doing it, like carpentry. All you need is a pen and some paper, an idea, and some research. Then you string words and facts together like beads, and form a logical, harmonious whole. Of course, it helps when you’ve mastered the language you write in. But this is no problem, if you’ve done a lot of reading, listening, observing and discussing in your life.
For a writer, no task is too small or too great. I began with theme-writing in the second grade, and at ten started keeping a small diary. As you grow up and expand your vocabulary, you work your way up to difficult topics. And you start using bigger notebooks. You join your high school paper, contribute to the company newsletter, and move on to a wider audience. At first you may do it for free. Later, you can do it for pay. But whether or not you get paid to write, you do it above all for love.
It also helps to have the right mentors. I had teachers who encouraged me to join contests, and express myself in writing. I became editor-in-chief of my high school paper. In college I took up Communication Arts, and became a better writer in Professor Espanto’s English Prose Styles class. He introduced us to Strunk and White’s “Elements of Style”, and William Zinsser’s “On Writing Well” – books I still use to this day.
And then there are mentors who teach things greater than writing. Things like integrity, the pursuit of truth, peace and justice. Or using your God-given talents in the service of a higher good. Once when I was a high school journalist, I attended a conference where I met a remarkable man. He was good-looking and intelligent, and was a charismatic speaker. As governor of a small province in the Visayas*, he spoke of his people and heritage with pride and unbridled passion. His words moved us all in the audience, and I never doubted his sincerity. Seven years later in 1986, Evelio Javier** was gunned down by assassins, in the aftermath of an election stolen by a desperate dictator. Life changes forever when someone you know gets martyred on the altar of freedom.
But this is a long, winding tale of a writer’s beginnings. Writing takes a lifetime to learn, and I can give you no easy answers. I learned to write by reading, and I learned to write by listening. I learned to write by discussing, and I learned to write by observing. I learned to write by following, and I learned to write by imitating.
I learned to write by living, because without that I have nothing to write about. I learned to write by doing, and I learned to write by writing. Then, when the writing is done, you learn to write better by revising. I learned writing from a lifetime of learning, and it’s a task I still work at everyday. Because practice, as you know, makes perfect.
__________
*An island group in Central Philippines.
**Former governor of Antique province in the Philippines.
(Special thanks to Allan Encarnacion)
I have no easy answers - it takes a lifetime to become a writer. As a child I always made up stories in my mind, but I wanted to be a doctor. Then at fourteen, I had an epiphany. I loved reading, languages and writing, and I realized they’d been shaping my destiny. I was meant to be a writer. After that, it was all that mattered – in school, at home, in my hobbies and daydreams.
Most writers I know are readers, and I grew up in a house full of books. They lined up a wall in the living room, filled up the shelves in the bedrooms. We kept them in drawers and musty old trunks. We had a virtual library - of bestsellers, references, literary classics, science books, whodunits, children’s books, newspapers, magazines, comics and schoolbooks, including those that belonged to grandfather. At our house, we spent our free time reading for fun.
As a family where both mother and father were teachers, discussions over the dinner table were inevitable. And so it was with us. At these times, we all shared what we knew, asked questions, had arguments, and settled them. It was done in the spirit of give and take, and to their credit my parents never lectured down to us. We were equals all learning from each other.
Bookworms we were, but not bookish. Fortunately, our knowledge of things and ideas was tempered by the wisdom of experience. Our parents and elders had lived through hard times, and survived a great world war. They told us stories from the past, and we listened. Soon we realized that books don’t tell the whole story, and that life’s best lessons can come from those who’ve lived it before.
Writers learn to tell stories, because they once heard stories told. This is true because I once wrote a story, based on a something I heard as a child. It was a classic trickster tale, where the hero outsmarts his antagonist by talking his way out of the crisis. I took this oral piece of literature, and embellished it with new details. To my amazement, that story later won a literary prize. The trickster had done it again.
Writers learn to write by writing. It’s a no-brainer, but it can’t be said enough. You learn by doing it, like carpentry. All you need is a pen and some paper, an idea, and some research. Then you string words and facts together like beads, and form a logical, harmonious whole. Of course, it helps when you’ve mastered the language you write in. But this is no problem, if you’ve done a lot of reading, listening, observing and discussing in your life.
For a writer, no task is too small or too great. I began with theme-writing in the second grade, and at ten started keeping a small diary. As you grow up and expand your vocabulary, you work your way up to difficult topics. And you start using bigger notebooks. You join your high school paper, contribute to the company newsletter, and move on to a wider audience. At first you may do it for free. Later, you can do it for pay. But whether or not you get paid to write, you do it above all for love.
It also helps to have the right mentors. I had teachers who encouraged me to join contests, and express myself in writing. I became editor-in-chief of my high school paper. In college I took up Communication Arts, and became a better writer in Professor Espanto’s English Prose Styles class. He introduced us to Strunk and White’s “Elements of Style”, and William Zinsser’s “On Writing Well” – books I still use to this day.
And then there are mentors who teach things greater than writing. Things like integrity, the pursuit of truth, peace and justice. Or using your God-given talents in the service of a higher good. Once when I was a high school journalist, I attended a conference where I met a remarkable man. He was good-looking and intelligent, and was a charismatic speaker. As governor of a small province in the Visayas*, he spoke of his people and heritage with pride and unbridled passion. His words moved us all in the audience, and I never doubted his sincerity. Seven years later in 1986, Evelio Javier** was gunned down by assassins, in the aftermath of an election stolen by a desperate dictator. Life changes forever when someone you know gets martyred on the altar of freedom.
But this is a long, winding tale of a writer’s beginnings. Writing takes a lifetime to learn, and I can give you no easy answers. I learned to write by reading, and I learned to write by listening. I learned to write by discussing, and I learned to write by observing. I learned to write by following, and I learned to write by imitating.
I learned to write by living, because without that I have nothing to write about. I learned to write by doing, and I learned to write by writing. Then, when the writing is done, you learn to write better by revising. I learned writing from a lifetime of learning, and it’s a task I still work at everyday. Because practice, as you know, makes perfect.
__________
*An island group in Central Philippines.
**Former governor of Antique province in the Philippines.
(Special thanks to Allan Encarnacion)
posted by Maria-Fe Parco Ortner at 11:12 AM
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