BLAH BLAH BLOGS: Pride Tomatoes

I may not be a Palanca awardee, but I do take pride on my works. No matter how shitty it may look to other people, it is my work in progress. We we never born to write best selling books on the first piece we made, but it will be that piece that will lead to more works that will eventually turn their heads around. With a lot of competition around us, we have already a lot of great talents and beautiful works that brings pressure to the artistic rat race.

I do say that even the best writers started with poems and short stories that were never heard or published. But what led them to their masterpieces are those that refined their writing and imagination. I felt writing about this because of a personal dilemma in one of my work which was changed drastically and what surfaced is now an adaptation of the original work. I do understand that change will be necessary and things can turn from red to blue, but a complete overhaul in the story just made me very frustrated. I waited for bamboos to shoot up, rather a grape vine emerged. It looks better, but want bamboos to make a flute.

I thought changes were minimal and will still keep the essence of my objective as a writer, but when the plot shifted from a romantic tragedy to a dark bromance, of felt like a bitchslap to the face telling me "You're work is fucking trash! Let's replace them with unicorns, everybody loves unicorns!"

Now on the final days until the show, the script is not mine, what is left are the Characters name, the location and nothing else. Sadly if what I have suggested for the ending will not be considered, I have to let go and disown the play as its has evolved into someone else's Frankenstein.

 But I still have my ideas for new stories, I guess the story was too bad for them they have to flush it down the toilet. But I say, "Shit happens, I still have a lot of stories in my head I want to complete. They say one man's trash is another one's treasure. You have not seen what is inside of my mind, you'll regret it once you go in" 

I guess this is my sin, my writer's pride. I love my work just like my my future children. No matter how hideous people say they look, it was a product of love, emotions and hours of looking outside during a bus ride. It's a deadly sin that can kill the only artistic soul I have.