Classes for junior and senior high kids have been suspended this week because of the onslaught of flu-like symptoms and earthquake paranoia. Because I am a mom of teens, this means more kids at home for me, and yes, less me time. So instead of doomscrolling my stress away, I’ve been going to bed early with books to read.
I approximate about two hours or so? But I wake up in the middle of the night and read more. That time is unaccounted for. Don’t you miss it, fellow 80s kid? There was a time when your heart didn’t pound because of a notification from a scammer faking your bank’s identity. But too late—your heart’s pounding, and you can’t undo it. That’s why I love being from this generation: I have the muscle memory of how it feels to ignore all the noise and tune in to myself.
The reading is serving me well because it’s incubation. It’s helping me beat my food/grocery shopping obsession. What’s more, it’s also sparked a slew of writing—and when I think and write, I feel most alive. This is where magic resides.
I’ve come to realize that I want to write another book—something like Bessel van der Kolk’s The Body Keeps the Score or Yuval Noah Harari’s Homo Deus. This is the kind of nonfiction writing I want to dedicate my life to. My first book, Stories of Pinoy Atheists, was just a start, a virgin foray into unknown territory. I got my haters and then honest feedback. Now I know a bit better: I have to steadfastly follow both my heart and my brain. Be true to myself, but also be smart about it.
I guess the classic tenet applies: know thyself. But know thy audience too.
No, I’m not a Young Adult genre writer. The people who enjoy those books aren’t my main audience either. But I’ve started an anorexia memoir—another project I’m willing to learn from and even hire a writing coach to help me along. Writing this side project shouldn’t deter me from working on my purpose-for-existing book. I can do both simultaneously. (Aren’t I a Gemini?)
For my upcoming dissertation, I’m working on Jungian archetypes and how narratives using them can help people heal. Inspired by my mentor, Dr. Imelda Villar, I’ve decided to pursue my own therapeutic method and then write about it. (Of course it’s, grounded in existing studies, theories, and working practices.)
This research, this intellectual pursuit, is—apart from my anorexia memoir—my other work in progress (WIP). From it, I envision two outcomes: a dissertation for the academic crowd, and a creative praxis book—a layman’s version I want to write in such a way that even my teenage kids will understand. What’s the use of a piece of writing if no one gets what you’re saying?
Initially, I imagined using archetype cards like tarot cards, similar to how projective tests are administered. But I realized, through these longer reading and writing periods, that I’ve already been using archetypes as an inner framework for structuring my therapy sessions. I’ll have to consult the experts at CEU Graduate School, but I’m fairly sure I’ll end up doing a Design and Development Research. Who knows? It might even be a blockbuster with the panel.
As for the creative praxis book that will grow out of it—perhaps it will make my name. Who knows? I’ll hitch my wagon to a star. Traditional publishers, here I come!
Success or not (in both counts, in both measures), I’ll be at peace with myself. No more pleasing the algorithm or letting it dictate my tides. A strong-willed woman like me deserves to have her words out there for the world to see—popular, bestselling, or not. She dares.
[…] like to think of this writing process of mine as deep creative labor, as apt for a book on creative praxis as it could be. If you’re unfamiliar with the term, creative praxis means the integration of […]