At 24, what am I as a Cebuano writer? This is a cry, a longing of my pen that hardly writes now. Am I impressionist, expressionist, the euphemist, the copycat, the existentialist (the hell with terms). I just don’t know, I just want to be different with others, I don’t want to write about the same folkloric environment in the regions, about the natives, war, peace, about Mindanaoan thing, simply because I am not competent to write those subject matter. I tried, but my pen cries that it is so much to bear. What am I as writer? Am I even competent to write? Or to say that I can write in Cebuano.. Damn this feeling.
Then suddenly Nicole (one who thinks I can write, tnx nikoy) introduced Death Note, an anemie production. Actually I blamed anemie for staining my reading habits. I was so indulged with anemie for the past six months that I didn’t even lay a finger on my books. About Death Note, read http://randomkalokohan.blogspot.com/
It maybe far out to some, but death note made me realize the thing I want to write the most. Death Note talks about evil, the processes of the mind and the sense of justice that human beings uphold. It shows the investigative mind, the twists in many plots and the struggle of the mind between the means and the end. It is so me.
Right now that my pen found its voice, I wouldn’t mind watching anemies, death notes of its kind. I am now excited plotting my own anemie inspired write ups. At 24, what am as a Cebuano I writer? I still couldn’t answer but I know I will be happy writing this subject matter. It is what matters I think.
