THE HILLS ARE ALIVE - HAPPY KAAMULAN FESTIVAL

My province of Bukidnon is currently celebrating the highly anticipated festival of the year called Kaamulan Festival, which normally held in the province capital city of Malaybalay.

Kaamulan means gathering and in the older times, it is the time of the year were ethnic people from different Tribal groups will climb down the mountain to gather in festivity and meet with the locals. Of coarse there is an origin there somewhere but let's leave that to the historians and the scholars to talk about the boring stuff.

As a fantasy fiction writer, I'd rather talk about an alternate reality which originate only during my day dreams and I wrote a book about it. The title is "Asician and the Portal of the Tribes Realm"
 
One of the reasons why I wrote the book -  it was my shameless way of promoting the seven tribal groups of my own province in Bukidnon. I know that what I was doing wasn't enough but at least I was doing something. I will always be a son of Mindanao and a son of a farmer to be particular from my humble little town in Valencia City in Bukidnon. I grew up knowing the majestic mountains that my province offers, the beautiful springs that sprout from the foot of these mountains, the fresh streams and amazing lakes. Nature is abundant in Bukidnon and upon entering the vast province, you will see ranches and different plantations of rice, pineapple, corn, sugarcane and vegetables - which is indeed a haven for farmers.

Aside from all of this. Bukidnon is a home for the 7 Tribes who was said to be the first ethnicity inhabited the vast terrain. This is their land and we are just the occupants. Their story of old inspired me when I was a kid and every time I saw one of them o the street, I was always fascinated even now. That's why I felt terrible for not having attended the festival for so many years now. Well, I could blame it on my day job. (Wink)

Also, the coolest part of being a novelist is the amount of research that I need to do to learn more about the subject. I've known stories about tribal people from the elders; meaning, my aunt, grand parents and even my parents. But in order for me to write about them, I feel like it's my responsibility to at least take a deeper learning about the tribal people of my province. But we're in the digital world now and I don't need the confine of a huge Library to get the information that I need. Everything is a click of the mouse and you just need the right URL and wallah!

So I wrote the book. I daydream about these characters like they are my friends and to be able to follow their adventure as if I was there, it was a joy and a fulfillment that only a writer would know.

In this celebration! To the 7 Tribes who grace the South City of Pines and to my beautiful province of Bukidnon - Happy Kaamulan Festival everyone! May the God Magbabaya and Goddess Dagingon will grant all of your prayers. Let the gong of the Salambing reaches the heavens and let the limbag chants reach the ears of the Almighty.

As I have said, I will always be a son of Bukidnon and the winding Sayre Highway of Mindanao will always be my road less traveled. I will always be that kid sitting beside the window of the Bachelor Transit watching the mountainous region and cheered every time I saw a horse running freely in the meadows.

Xoxo

OFFICIALLY A SELF PUBLISHED AUTHOR

 Finally it’s here! My book is already available on Amazon.com for purchase.  How surreal is that? It took me awhile to digest that information because I waited a long time for this moment to come.

You know, every time I receive a rejection response on my email - a piece of brick adds up on my shoulders. The pressure is on and as the months passed by, my hope of publishing my works is moving farther away from me. But I realized that if I gave up now; I would definitely regret it in the future. I kept telling myself everyday to be patient and have faith that one day it will happen.  One day, I will be able to see my books on shelves regardless if it’s from actual bookstores or digital. I don’t care!

I remember Anne Rice and even Stephen King said that if you want to be a novelist/writer, you have to be stubborn somehow.  Not everybody will appreciate your work and someone who is mean would tell it straight to your face that you don’t have the right to become a writer.  This is really true and horrifying!

A guy once told me that my work is unsalvageable. But instead of spending a lot of time cursing that person, I comforted myself with the thought that he is not even a writer himself. How could he have known what I’ve been through to write my book?  I could have understood if he wanted to critic my work and told me what works for him and what’s not, but to kill a dream? No one has the right to do that!

Probably he’s not the right market for my novel and no matter how crappy my work for others, someone out there will appreciate it.

To be able to write what is real for me in the form of fiction fantasy novel is a joy. I feel blessed that I was given this opportunity. To even publish my book is an icing to the cake and I am humble and grateful. It’s time to give back.

I will make a pledge that the first check I will receive for this book will go straight to Philippine Red Cross Foundation. Volunteering, giving foods and clothing seems not enough for the victims of Typhoon Haiyan/ Yolanda. I know that what I can give is not sufficient to rebuild lives but this is my way of reaching to help.

Everything will be documented on my Facebook page, Twitter Account and Instagram : @RonnanTristan

http://www.amazon.com/Ascian-Portal-Tribes-Realm-ebook/dp/B00GR325C0

xoxo

STORY: Roses and Shadows (PART 2)

It was late in the morning when Mari woke up. The ray of the sun seeped through her window altering the atmosphere inside her room. Instinctively, she stretched out her arms and released a satisfying yawn. She opened her eyes and squint, the sun was up and the light brightened her small bedroom. When her eyes adjusted, she turned to her side and reached for her cellular phone to check for the time.

It was 9AM, she overslept.

Mari placed the phone back to the side table and went back to bed. She thought about what happened last night; the man on top of the roof, the long stem red rose left on her window and the eerie feeling of being watched. The thought of it sent shiver through her spine and for the first time in three years living alone, she was afraid. That couldn’t be a stalker, she considered. She was not convinced that her simplicity was capable of attracting strangers to look at her twice, let alone stalk her. Immediately, she pushed the thought aside and stood up.

She made her bed before she left the room.

On her kitchen table, the red rose lay at the center. Mari leaned back on the sink with a glass of water in hand watching keenly over the strange flower. She was thinking about the man on the roof again. She was trying to get rid of the thought but she couldn’t deny her curiosity. She was terrified but part of her wanted to know the man. The feeling of excitement engulfed her giving her chills. She emptied the glass of water and placed it on the sink. She stared at the rose once again, thinking how red it was – it was nearly dark like it was dipped in a pool of blood.

How odd that she considered blood for comparison. But it was the color of the flower disconcerted her, it wasn’t an ordinary rose. Mari walked closer and picked the rose from the table. She was holding the long stem and brought it closer to her so she could see it clearly. It was beautiful, the red color was unfading and the stem was strong and unwithered. She closed her eyes and let the petals brushed her cheek, caressing her skin. As if it was picked from the garden a minute ago, the smell of fresh morning flooded her nostril, calming her. The smoothness of petals made her smile. It was disarming.

She was pulled back by a knocking on the door. Startled as she was, Mari put the flower back on the table and took a deep breath to calm down. When she settled, the knocking hit the third times. She walked to the door and opened it. It was the caretaker of the building Mr. Romero. The man was probably in his late fifties with a curly short hair, a smiley face and who always fond of wearing overalls. He was a nice guy and for some reason, he reminded her of her late father. There was kindness in Mr. Romero that touched her so dearly.

“Good morning Mr. Romero!” She greeted.

“Good morning my sweet! I got the letters from the mail today and the bills too. I come to give yours. I’m sorry if I interrupted something.” Mr. Romero said smiling.

“You didn’t! I just woke up actually” She said. Her eyes shifted to the bundles of letters in Mr. Romero’s hands.

“Oh! Here are your bills and you got here a letter too.” He handed the letters to her with the bills in it.

“Thank you!”

“Well, have a nice day Mari. You know the drill with this… ” Referring to the bundles he was carrying.

“You too Mr. Romero” She said giving him a warm smile before closing the door.

She walked back to the kitchen and placed all sealed envelops on the table beside the flower. She scanned the bills one by one, credit card, postpaid, water, internet, others were just spams. Then the last one caught her attention. It wasn’t actually a bill but a black rectangular unstamped envelop with her name scribbled at the back.   

Mari stared at her name written in cursive writing. Obviously it was beautifully done by hand and not by some silly word processor. In haste she opened the letter to see what’s inside. There was a small parchment and with eyes wide and heart pumping hard, she read what was written.

An invitation for a ball.

Her eyes darted to the bottom of the invites, she almost stop breathing when she saw a small logo engrave of a rose on the lower right.

Her attention fell back to the table, where the red rose lay perfectly still.

To be continue...

STORY: Roses and Shadows

Days passed in a blur, like distant scenery from a moving train. Sometimes a day beseeched excitement and fun but most of the time… it’s meaningless.   Everything that Mari did was work and work. Often times she came home in the morning feeling exhausted and spent. All she had to do was change her clothes and hit the sack and sleep. Mari Amascual was a call center representative. She worked an eight hours graveyard shift at Sphinx Inc., a BPO company in Manila.

“Are you coming?” Bridge asked one Saturday morning. The entire week was a hell, calls were flowing like water in a stream – it never stop. For five days the entire 27^th floor of the 1900 Building was a battle field. Inbound calls all over America were coming in with different requests and concerns regarding their accounts. This was what it’s like to be working as a call center agent – you just have to learn how to multitask to address the customer efficiently. Mari was one of the best agents out there but of course just like everyone else, she couldn’t wait for the week to end.

“Thanks but… rain check?” replied Mari. Bridge gave her a disappointed look but she didn’t insist and dropped the subject right away. The team was going for a drink after a long week of hard work and Bridge was their team leader.

“Okay” Bridge said and turned around and left.

Mari shifts ended at 6AM but since its weekend, she lingered at the office for awhile to make sure that there’s no pending work left unattended. Her team left the office thirty minutes ago while others were wrapping up for their weekly huddle. The noise around her was beginning to mellow and the next time she peeked from her station – the floor was deserted.

She emptied her pending bucket, turned the computer off and left. It was already 8AM and the Sun was already blazing the horizon outside. The moment she stepped out of the building, the warmth of the summer breeze caught her face. She winced and fished her Ray ban Shades in her bag. She thought about having a breakfast before going home and images of Choco chips pancake and bacon popped in her head and made her giggle. Immediately, she hailed a cab and told the driver to take her to Katipunan Avenue. Pancake House opens early and Mari wanted to have that Choco chips she’d been dreaming the whole week. The cab dropped her off in front of the restaurant; she paid the driver and went out.

During weekends, the restaurant was packed with families lived around the Katipunan area. When Mari entered Pancake House, most of the tables were already occupied but a waiter led her to a vacant table on the second floor near the glass window. It was perfect she thought, having the view of the Avenue and the Ateneo Campus on the other side of the road. If only she has someone to sit with her and share the view, but there was no one - she was alone. It was that time that she actually felt the loneliness in her life. It wasn’t a choice that she was single, maybe because she believed in the more traditional way of courtship that she shooed most of the guys who asked her out.

An elderly couple came out of a black car outside. Mari looked at them hopeful. She believed in destiny and that someone out there, a man who is gentle and kind, gazing at the same star at night looking for her. She sighed and turned her attention to the Menu in front of her. A few minutes later, a waitress approached to get her order.

The meal was delicious. The pancake melted in her mouth as she closed her eyes enjoying every minute of it. The bacon was almost heaven and she feasted on it and washed it down with lemon iced tea. When Mari walked out of the restaurant she was happy. Ironically, her loneliness was gone for awhile and it was because of a good meal. She smiled and walked her way home.

It was almost midnight when she heard a scratching on the ceiling. Her eyes blinked trying to focus in the darkness but her ears were listening attentively. When the noise didn’t come back, she disregarded it. It could have been a strayed cat or a huge rat. Mari rolled to the other side of the bed and reached for her cellular phone to check the time. She squint her eyes as the light from the phone blinked. It was 11:30PM and all of a sudden she felt so lame for sleeping the entire day. She was exhausted, she thought. She wanted to stay up but her body could only take much stress. She thought about what she did before hitting the bed at 2PM. It’s not that she forfeited her Saturday off completely. She took her unwashed clothes to the laundry house before cleaning her studio type pad. She released a tired groan and sat up. The room was dark but the moon was full that shed a fainted glow in her window. A shadow caught her eyes outside and she crept out from the bed and went closer to the window holding her breath. As she looked closer, she saw a silhouette of a man standing motionless on the roof of the neighbor’s house. Immediately, she hid herself behind the curtain and covered her mouth with her hands to stop herself from screaming. Her pad was located on the second floor of the building and she woke up each day seeing the same view of residential roofs around her. When she looked back again to see the shadow on the roof, there was no one in there. She putted a hand on her chest as if catching her own heart from jumping.

Was that a phantom? She asked herself.

For awhile she didn’t move. The silence stretched and she couldn’t take it any longer. She could have just imagined it as if the night was playing trick on her. She inhaled deeply and released it and crossed the room to turn on the light. The florescent light flooded the entire room washing away the shadows and the grim brought by the darkness. She closed her eyes and massaged her temple while her breathing was going back to normal. She went to the mini kitchen to drink a glass of water.

She was beginning to feel normal again. It must be nothing, she convinced herself.

Then a whooshing sound caught her that made her turned around in haste. She placed the glass on the table and went back to the window to check. There was nothing there and feeling of someone watching her made the hair on her nape stood. Someone caught her eyes that made her heart stopped.

What was that? She thought. Her mouth agape in horror from what she saw.

On the window was a rose red as blood.

To be continue...

       

   

     

  

  

Thoughts About Writing MY Novel

It was on my late twenties did I realize that I wanted to write my own novel. Of course a lot of THANKS to a good friend of mine who made me see this possibility. You see, I've always been a dreamer and those dreams were just buried on the pages of my favorite books. Maybe that's the reason why I enjoy reading so much, because reading is the only way for me to dream and have that sweet escape. But the great wheel has been turned when I started entertaining the possibility of becoming a novelist and write my own stories. For days I was consumed with the idea of writing and the more I pondered it the more I realized that this is what I really wanted to do with my life.

Writing feels right for me. The sweet escape, the same satisfaction I get from reading - it feels like dreaming a good dream...

When I started writing my own novel I was skeptical about my skills. I don't have a proper training when it comes to this area. I wasn't even a straight A student in English during my School days. I was afraid that what I got in my pocket wasn't enough for me to finish an entire book. But despite of this dilemma, I continued. My gut was telling me to keep going and focused on the goal and that was to keep the narrative moving forward. I kept telling myself that what makes a writer is to write and studying about writing is a waste of time. I will learn how to write by just simply... WRITE. That was the great Anne Rice said.

So these are the few things I've learned on the process... And sure there are lots more as I go on in life.

* The process of writing a novel or a book is a lonely road to take. This is a consequence that I need to undergo to finish my novel. I realized that this is the only way for me to write my book and that I have to give up something in order for me to focus and buy more time. In this case, I made a choice to give up my social life. It isn't hard for me to do it because I am not an outgoing person in the first place. I'm self confessed home-body - I know, that's a lame excuse for an anti-social behavior. But I have to bear in mind that this is essential because I need all the time in the world to finish a book.

* Stop Dreaming and Start Writing. I realized that nothing will happen if I waste my precious time in dreaming about writing a book. I've been doing just that half of my life and this time, it's time to put all of that into writing. I need to stop dreaming somehow and start writing. I need to learn how to become a goal oriented person.

* I learned how to block the time.  More or less 4 to 5 hours a day. I'd like to think that during these times I totally disappeared on the phase of the earth and all I do is write. Everyday I told myself that writing is a life mission and in order for me to be closer to my goal, I MUST block the time to do it. Since I still have my day job and I don't have all the time in the world, I have to make use of that 4 hours or less and be productive. Though this is the part were I found challenging, because it's hard to put myself in a frame of mind with my characters and I have to set the mood for me to plunge myself into my characters world. I have to admit that I need more practice with this area. 

* I surrounded myself with anything that inspires and motivates me. a.) I listened to a lot of author interviews online. I believed that there is no actual original advice for new writers but big authors have their own ways  to articulately rephrase it differently and rhetorically. So I wrote some of their advice and see what works for me. b.) I am indeed a lover of fantasy fiction but for me to learn more, I need to go out of my nutshell and experience other genres in literature to broaden my demographic. Honestly, I gave up the classic when I was in high school but later as I rediscovered them, I realized that I have the heart for those languid writings of the old world. Those are the writings that will give you a total experience with reading - transcending effect. I remember reading one classic novel that I literally felt like I was hearing music or some sort of a humming in my ear.

c.) I collected EBooks about writings and autobiographies of authors that I love and sometimes you'll find me in a Book-sale bargaining for that one book that I like – Yeah! Shamelessly I am notorious at bargaining books at book sale even if the book is fixed in price.

d.) If I am not writing, I am reading furiously.

Probably that's about it for now. I am not there yet but it's safe to say that even the train is moving slowly, I am sure that I am in the right railway. I already finished TWO novels as of the moment, the one is already at the mercy of my editor and the other one is still the subject of my perusal – I am editing it like c-r-a-z-y. There are friends who supported me in this journey; these are the people who tap me on the shoulder and told me not to give up regardless of the rejections that have been piling on my email. But also you cannot avoid those people who’ll just shrug and roll their eyes when you talk to them about writing. I don’t blame them, besides, they don’t know what I am going through and they have NO idea at all… So I just let them be…

I heard an author said that "You are when you think YOU are!" in which I totally agree because that’s the only way for me to take myself seriously. Everyday I’ve been telling the world that I am a novelist, I do it like a mantra… and no matter how rough the road is, I will took off my shoes and walk barefoot baby step at a time until I get to my destination. It will be hard of course, but my characters will be out there and the world will hear their stories sooner. Let’s carve that in the stone.

Xoxo