Raissa Rivera Falgui's Blog

My mother had a love of story that I suspect began in her childhood as a child neglected by parents grieving the death of their son. She clung to the idea that she deserved a happy ending because of all she’d gone through, as all poor, oppressed fairytale characters did. On the surface, it seems she got it, a husband who gave her security, the two sons and daughter she wanted. But this was marred by my father’s two decade struggle with bipolar syndrome and her own lupus that may have developed from the stress. Though it was largely in remission in her last decade, we would be reminded of her faulty immune system whenever she had a mild wound which would end up leading to debridement surgery. Perhaps it was what left her unable to override the infection that caused her death.

I wanted to give her a happy ending. I wanted to cure my dad. I couldn’t even with the help of my determined psych major husband. I suppose I knew deep inside I couldn’t make someone happy if he chose to remain bitter, which is why I wrote stories where I could dispense happy endings to those who deserved them.

Quite a few of my stories are revisions of fairy tales. Despite my hunger for happy endings, I am wary of the promise of fairy tales. Even if you get your big, explosive, happy ending, life goes on in a course of good and bad. And all you can hope is there will be more good and bad. And that is why I stripped a childhood story I wrote of all Cinderella trappings except the helpful creature that creates a needed dress. There is no ball, the prince is an ordinary man from a well-off family and the happy ending consists of them going off to new adventures (This is “The Naturalist’s Daughter” in Fly by Night.)

Some say we need the promise of magic and miracles, but I don’t know. I don’t see it made my mom happy to find the dreams that got her through a miserable childhood didn’t bear fruit. With social media, we see this more than ever, that stars generally fizzle out and live ordinary lives. Far better to embrace that life is made up of a multitude of small moments and you need to treasure those you can.

I guess she knew that too. She had many little stories and served up her fiascos often as anecdotes for people to laugh at. Maybe we couldn’t give her a momentous happy ending, but she had happy moments enough. She made the most she could out of the imperfect life she was given. That’s all we can really do, I guess.

Fairy tales and big dreams seem to have gone out of fashion. I am kind of done of them, but I don't think we should reject them entirely. Just value little dreams as well as big ones. Maybe more.

Going to Frankfurt for the Book Fair may seem like a dream, but it’s actually work. You get to work in a nice place, which means getting to contemplate varied architecture (in transit) and eating new, interesting food (when you manage to find the time).

It also means meeting new people and gaining new perspectives. Just talking to people from different countries and different walks of life is a significant educational experience.

The pace of Frankfurt is fast if you have booked plenty of meetings—and it’s necessary if you want to make the most of it. Of some twenty new people I met with, I only saw two of them again around the fair venue—it’s huge, after all! The building with the guest of honor pavilion is called Entrance City which seems particularly apt. Perhaps it’s not really as large as a city, but it is as tiring to traverse the whole place on foot as it is to wander around a city.

One person I did see repeatedly even if he wasn’t part of the delegation I was in was a hotelmate at our little Japanese hotel the Toyoko Inn, Japanese translator Koji. Except for my first night when I slept longer than usual after a long flight, I would wake up early each morning starving. I’m not really a breakfast person, normally, but being seven hours behind my local time, 6 am was already a late lunch hour for me and my stomach was screaming I’d missed dinner and breakfast in my sleeping hours!

Having already met in the Asian Rights Fair in September and discussed titles at the Buchmesse, we had plenty to talk about. I found Koji was observant of cultural differences from the beginning. When he was in Manila for the Asian Rights Fair, he asked me if it was typical for fathers to look after their children here, noting a number who had brought their children to the Manila International Book Fair. This stood out for him as it wasn’t quite as common in Japan. In fact it is something I have also been noticing more over the years and highlighted in an baby magazine article I wrote back around 2010 on fatherhood. I explained to Koji that one reason might be that many mothers not only work but often work abroad because of the high demand for Filipina nurses. While now a job for any gender, there are still more women nurses and women are still preferred as nurses, especially Filipino women.

There was a continuation of this discussion in Germany as, noting how many Filipinos seemed to be at our stand, he asked if any of them had come from Germany or Europe. I explained there were a few who had among our delegates and that we were also visited by some Filipinos living in the area. Many Filpinos, I explained to him, got work in Europe as health workers (mostly nurses, of course!) and laborers.

Over breakfasts of miso soup and rice accompanied by Western breakfast foods such as sausages, eggs, green salad, and the continental breakfast staples of pastries, hot chocolate, coffee–a cultural mix that aptly represented our current book fair experience–we had discussions on the literature of our countries and literary trends in general and the mundane details of life in our country and in our particular locale. As with Kannika Claudine D. Peña, the author of our title All The Lonely People which he took an interest in, Koji does not care for the big city but relishes living in a rural area. He brought up how stressed the Japanese living in Tokyo and other congested cities were.

He had mentioned some aspects of this in the ARF when we talked about reading demographics, mentioning that Japan had a large aging population and less younger people to look after them. And that this was also a cause of stress to adults who had to take care of their older relatives while dealing with jobs and families. Even young people still in school had to look after aging relatives. This led to a discussion on the issues facing young people in Japan. He mentioned the issue of bullying particularly online which, along with academic pressures, causes children to avoid attending school.

A bit of a rambling conversation, but learning about these issues from him prompted me to share with him our title about a teenager dealing with her mother with a mood disorder, At Home With CrazyAt Home with Crazy. And a week ago, he sent me an information sheet he had prepared in Japanese about this book to share with the publishers he translates for.

We talk of making business connections but in the world of books, particularly works of literature, which are about human concerns, personal connections are just as valuable. Diverging from talk of business may seem inefficient, but it can lead to relevant discoveries, as Koji’s divergence from the topic of the age demographic of readers led to a discussion of mental health concerns that happened to be related to titles we had.

His sharing of information of our book may lead to a sale, for which of course I hope. Not just for business reasons, though of course that is a factor because we are in business. But my heartfelt concern is for the mental health of schoolchildren in Japan, as well as young people in the Philippines. Because that concern is the reason I champion this title and recommended it particularly to Koji when my heart was moved by the concerns he was sincerely troubled about. The business of selling literary books is ultimately a human business.

Ang isang awtor para ding aktor na kailangan makapasok sa katawan ng kanyang mga tauhan at maramdaman ang kanilang dapat nararamdaman sa sitwasyon na sinulat para sa kanila.

An author is also like an actor who must get into the skin of his characters and feel what they need to feel in a situation written for them.

This is how I ended my review of the manuscript we were given to read in a recent seminar on editing in Filipino that I attended.

Not long afterwards, I had to go through my works in both Filipino and English for a project I’m working on (and also due to Google Drive’s warnings that I was close to exceeding my limit). I have more works in English and write with more elegance in the language for the simple reason that I have been exposed to a much, much larger body of literary works in it, being a bookworm child of two English teachers. But my Filipino works, all of which are for children, aren’t too bad (though bilingual and translated by myself, my book Hating Kapatid was written in Filipino as the idiom it centers on demanded). In either language, though, I don’t think the quality of my language is particularly impressive. Not if you are seeking richness of vocabulary and figures of speech. My style focuses on simple functionality, as I taught my students, drawing from the 5 C’s of Richard Lederer & Richard Dowis’s stylebook The Write Way: The S.P.E.L.L. Guide to Real-Life Writing that I adhere to which means being Clear, Correct, Concise, Coherent, and Considerate.

In fiction, my style varies depending on which character’s point of view I am taking. So perhaps I am more of a virtual actor than a verbal stylist. I struggle more with stringing words together when writing essays. When I write fiction, the characters take over. Even if I’m writing third person, I am so immersed in the experiences and feelings of my imaginary people once they come to life that I just get caught up in setting down everything without letting my perfectionist self-editing consciousness get in the way. More than that, entering so deeply in the story that it feels real to me allows me to draw my readers as deeply into it as well.

I suppose there are people who are able to write a story well while staying outside of it. But this is my way. I may not have breathtaking skill with words, but this is my gift. I am not going to call myself an empath lest I get compared to the awful sister in the most recent adaptation of Persuasion. Anyway, the words you use for things are less important than how you actually use the things, the technique in this case. And it works for me; in fact, it’s the only way I can really write.

I'll probably regret that title. Apologies to fans but I hate Spongebob on aesthetic grounds. I just find him and all his fellow characters ugly, to put it bluntly. Funny, sure, but ugly.

But that was the least of my worries when I found myself finally boarding a bus after waiting twenty minutes in persistent rain on Monday, and finding myself staring at garish orange curtains with Spongebob and his friends all over them. I had almost taken a cab, but a woman in a uniform that said Pediatrics waved at the one with a lit service sign first, and I felt I shouldn't fight her for it. Just as well: a woman in the back opened the window and flung a clear liquid out, which I guess wasn't a big deal given everyone was wet already, just really weird. And disappointing since everyone was so desperate for a ride.

But finally the bus with offending curtains stopped. I would have liked to face away from the curtains, but there wasn't room for me to move, the automatic umbrella I had hastily closed kept threatening to pop open, I had to find a way to slide my backpack off so I could reach my wallet--which then promptly turned over and spilled all its contents in the bottom of my bag, Sixty pesos worth of coins, which was the exact amount I needed for a roundtrip commute on these buses which they'd tried to label as jeepneys, only the name caught on as easily as X did for Twitter. I managed to scoop up enough to pay and move to a spot where I could contemplate why Spongebob had a pink dollop on his head, with a little more comfort.

I felt horrible about being late for my first day at an 8-5 office job since 1998 (my other work has been either teaching, part-time, or flextime). But as it turned out, nearly everybody was late for work or school that day. To quote my husband, "Traffic was historically bad...." The important thing was that I got there and with a fairly dry body and absolutely dry feet, thanks to new boots. Only the million old receipts in the back pockets of my backpack were a casualty. So maybe it wasn't the best start, but I got my start in my job, and it was not at Krusty Krab but at a publisher, Milflores.

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I guess it's obvious why a writer would want to work at a publishing house, but I assure you there's more to it than that. First, I really do enjoy going to work if I like the job and the workplace. I like having something new to see and do every day, which is extremely helpful in stimulating my imagination as a writer. I am one of those who couldn't write a word during lockdown. It was only when things eased up and we went out once a week that I gradually became unstuck. I need real life to feed my writing. New stimulation from screens won't do it.

And if I don't have my own thing, I am going to be miserable about my kids not only being away at school all day but growing up and becoming more independent. Which is how things should be. Perhaps in a few more weeks I would have become okay with being alone at home while they all went out. But with all their baby and toddler pictures around me all the time, I doubt it.

But most of all, as a reading advocate as well as a writer, it's something I've been wanting to do for a long time. I know I can't produce all the books and other materials that I feel people, especially children, need to read. I can't even finish all the stories I start! But I can help other people do this.

My biggest worry about working outside the home was that I would lack energy to care for my family and continue to write. But so far that doesn't seem to be happening. After a short nap, not only do I get dinner on the table and the lunches in the lunchboxes, but through the past week I spent a little time after my kids went to sleep revising a play for submission. And finished two days before the deadline.

On my last day before the weekend, I encountered the Spongebob bus again! I was sure of it once I faced the curtains. What were the chances of another bus having those exact curtains? The conductor I had recognized from the start. The driver might have been the same. There was no rain this time, but he was horribly slow even on stretches with no traffic.

I will try to avoid Spongebob in the future. But I think the important thing is that I am not working at the Krusty Krab but in an industry that I love.

I found out not long after that the area where I get off the bus is called Ligaya. How appropriate.

At the close of National Children's Book Month, I'd like to honor one of my family's most frequent and deserving recipients of book donations, Jaton Zulueta.

I first knew him as a lanky, amiable high school sophomore. He was a student in one of the Ateneo English classes I taught who wrote thoughtful, heartfelt essays. At the end of the year, when teachers discussed his progress, it was mentioned that he had failed math again. But he’d not only done well in his other subjects but got an A in English! So he was kept on for the last two years of high school.

I don’t know how much role I played in his education. I’d like to think the A I gave him at the end of the year not only gave him a boost of confidence but helped him get into college. Failure in high school math continued to be an issue in his remaining years, leading him to fear he wouldn’t get into any school, let alone the one of his choice. When awaiting the results of entrance exams, he prayed with a mix of “resignment (and) negotiation“: “God, alam ko naman medyo matindi ang mirakulong kinakailangan, pero kung gawin mo akong Atenista ulit, gagawin ko lahat para makatulong sa iba.” (God, I know that it would take a major miracle, but if you make me an Ateneo student again, I will do all I can to help others.

He thought it would take a miracle and somehow that miracle did happen. He not only got into college but into his first choice, Ateneo. And soon after, he set about fulfilling his promise to God. He volunteered to teach disadvantaged kids in the university’s Tulong Dunong program, and discovered an immense love for teaching and a sense of purpose. He was inspired by many of his co-teachers and impressed with the good students among the public school children they tutored. At the age of just 19, he decided to start his own educational program for kids like these.

He had the support and assistance of his mother, who had advised him all throughout his volunteer teaching. A businesswoman dedicated in training her staff, she believed: “you needed to do your best because the poor deserved the best.” It was a value she passed on to her son. “What inspired us was this call of duty. If we won't move, who will?” Jaton says.

Thus was born the AHA! Learning Center, which supplements the education of public school children to bridge their learning gaps. AHA! seeks to address the gaps in the students’ learning through tutoring sessions and enrichment activities.

Starting the center at such a young age wasn’t easy. “Major challenges honestly was no one wanted to fund a small project, and we kept on figuring out how to do this as a volunteer or as a full time person.” Through networking and getting sponsorship from companies, the fledgling foundation was able to survive and grow steadily through the years.

AHA! has been resourceful and creative in meeting every challenge over the years. They have used creative activities and games to engage students and gifted them school supplies and books as well as providing after-school lessons, reading materials and toys in their centers. Kids were even encouraged to create their own toys in the Cardboard Challenge, an activity to promote reuse of trash materials that helped in developing children’s visual-spatial and construction skills, creativity, and love of learning.




The center faced numerous challenges, but none greater so far than the disruption to education caused by COVID-19. During the pandemic lockdowns, Jaton and his team had to get resourceful to continue their mission, deciding to use social media and text messaging to provide lessons. He relates:

"On the first week of the lockdown, I couldn’t sleep. I had just talked to friends- who advised me that I shouldn’t push through with AHA Eskwela Pamilya- our free home school program on Facebook messenger. Many said it felt tone deaf and that we should just continue fundraising for food (we did), many said it was a waste of time, that we should use this time to regroup and fix organizational problems, some even said we should work on charging for content to help us make aha sustainable. This was all sound advice, but none of it felt right to me or our group.

"Even internally, we had so many concerns. We had never done microlessons, never written lessons in Tagalog, never did anything remotely like this (our content was always visual and our lessons so interactive).

"To make matters worse, half of our staff chose to end their contract abruptly to go home to their provinces, so we were just a handful of people left"

"At that point, I remember thinking about what Fr. Johnny Go used to tell me, just as long as you can help one child, Jaton. It doesn’t have to be a solution for all. After talking to the nanays then, we had more than one child who wanted this, so that should be enough.

"So we put our heads down, stop listening to all the noise, and worked. When we launched the program...we never thought it would reach 8,000 families (more so since we only opened enrollment to outsiders on Holy Thursday).

"I never thought we would have students living in mountains, students in hospital beds, students from small barrios all over the Philippines. I never could have expected to see how much all my staff, mostly in their early 20s, grew up so well and did so well in such a short period of time. Nor did I ever dream how many of our students would answer the call to learn and how many of their parents would answer the call to teach so lovingly.

"I never thought that we could get doctors to come in daily for online consultations, or enough money to give cash support, or even for me to have enough confidence to do 30+ web streams when you couldn’t even convince me to do one in eleven years."


The dedication and empathy of Jaton and the team he has formed and inspired to help even just one child is what drives them to keep working and growing. “What continues to inspire us is how well we were received by the members of the community, which was really inspiring. We get to do so much because of the amount of people that support us.” The positive response of the students and their families show well attuned Jaton’s center has been to their needs with their “empathy-informed learning system which takes in consideration the learners' interior struggles and environment. We scale this through teacher training and community learning and leadership hubs…”




All because of the “miracle” that led to his acceptance in Ateneo University, Jaton has been able to achieve his own little miracles that have made a difference in the lives of many others. He hopes to provide enrichment in the education of public school students and their teachers throughout the nation, all the way to Mindanao. “I dream that we can bring this idea to all the poorest barangays.”




References;

Messenger interview with Jaton Zulueta, July 30, 2023.

Who is the Filipino? Jaton Zulueta on Distance Learning and Keeping Dreams Alive.” Rappler, April 13, 2020. https://www.rappler.com/life-and-styl...

Zuleta, Jaton. “Real Talk: How Constantly Failing at Math Led me to Finding my Purpose.” ANC, September 23, 2021. https://news.abs-cbn.com/ancx/culture...


Zulueta, Jaton. Facebook post, April 30, 2020.

Photo credits Jaton Zulueta. Used with permission.

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Okay, a confession to begin with: this isn't going to be about books or have a lot to do with books. If I was still writing for a parenting magazine, the title would be How to Parent an Extrovert When You are an Introvert. Our family, including extended family, is pretty much 80% introvert. So it's easy to forget about our extrovert minority, and unfortunately that is what happened, so I did research to help me make up for it (which of course is an introverts usual approach to solving a problem).

Findings about introverts in lock-down and work at home situations varies; I feel authors of articles haven't considered the particular circumstances of the introverts. Because we introverts are very particular about our circumstances and the limits we want to set. And some have the perfect situation because they are sheltering with the few that they love best, which is the case with me. Though I miss random interactions with my sister-in-law and a few people in the neighborhood and my husband's workplace that I'm fond of, I am happy chatting with them occasionally and simply interacting with my husband and kids through the week. The main things that bother me are dirty floors and not being able to finish a book or a video. I'm glad not to being teaching large virtual classes because having to think about what I was saying, observe students' reactions on the screen and remember to check the chat was driving me crazy.

But here I go focusing on my own feelings like introverts tend to. Which isn't selfish, actually, from the introvert point of view it's natural and my tendency is to find people who need others to uplift their moods needy and people who want to be needed full of themselves. I'm not saying that's true for everyone, though. I'm coming to realize that introverts and extroverts have different ways of seeing things. I just had a quiet solitary breakfast with a cup of chocolate and a grilled cheesy ensaimada, and I found it very pleasant but reflected a lot of people would find me "mababaw" for deriving so much pleasure from something simple. But peace and the time to think and plan over good food is energizing for an introvert though boring for an extrovert.

And so if they're with people who understand them and let them be most of the time but are available when they have a deep need to share something, introverts would really be happy in lockdown. Especially if they have a chance to pursue their interests, which are usually artistic pursuits. My introverted daughter has happily done some art and writing and practices music every day. Quiet pursuits and a simple routine are satisfying to introverts because we create our own excitement in our minds, excitement we tend to prefer to the random excitement the world at large throws at us.

This child isn't shy, but she's clearly an introvert. She was always happy playing by herself when she was small, never running out of ideas for something to do by herself. If someone invited her to join in a game, she'd participate, but her favorite free time pursuits in school were actually rambling in a field and climbing trees. And reading and drawing. She likes sharing her ideas with people but isn't as patient listening to others, and doesn't like random small talk.

My youngest is similar. The only people he's felt comfortable talking to are the ones he's known all his life: family and close neighbors. In preschool he latched on to one classmate and never remembered the names of the others; he knows only a few names of classmates in virtual school. He worships his siblings but hates it when they intrude on a Lego or Minecraft world he is building.

My middle child is another matter. He never wanted to play alone as a toddler; he always sought me out. Even if I was busy editing my thesis then, I welcomed having him in the room with me, babbling incoherently about his toys and occasionally handing me a stuffed toy or zooming a car at me, because my father had just died and I needed distraction from my sad thoughts. Whenever I brought him out, he looked for a kid to play with or talk to, he not only joined in but invited others to play in the schoolyard. He loved big parties, unlike the rest of us who found them overwhelming. He likes fast-paced, stimulating games and loud music. I think the most significant indicator that he is an extrovert is that though he loves drumming, he dislikes practicing on his own but enjoys lessons in a group, even if it's an online session!

Yesterday, after a day focused on our own pursuits--my husband and I at work, my daughter in choir, and my sons in separate video games, four out of five of us took turns sharing about thoughts and experiences we'd had through the day. But my middle child was unusually quiet.

Actually, he'd been in a bad mood since school ended for a week-long break. He didn't want to put on his costume for no-contact Halloween rounds though he'd delighted in showing it off to his classmates. I guess with the lack of the usual village party and audience of admiring neighbors, trick-or-treating didn't appeal to him and may have even been a reminder of how much things had changed. Early in the lock-=down, he'd actually been great. I think he enjoyed the freedom of having a much less regimented day. He could snack, watch videos, and play with his siblings between classes. To some extent, the novelty appealed to him--perhaps one reason extroverts actually fared well early in lockdown is having a new challenge to tackle actually appealed to their adventurous nature! My son kept coming up with ideas for new activities. It was he who suggested playing board games and singing loud karaoke while the rest of us would automatically reach for a book or search for a favorite series. And he loved making up new games or reminding us of ones we hadn't played in a while.

As he sat quietly in the car, I realized how much we'd relied on him to inject that bit of spontaneity we needed to keep from getting stuck in a rut. But as introverts get worn out from having to interact with lots of people, maybe he was in a slump as an extrovert whose personal need for novelty, stimulation, and varied social interactions was not being met. Last year, he reveled in being appointed by his teacher to lead ice-breaking activities at the start of homeroom periods. If extroverts' love language is stimulating and entertaining others, maybe he needed acknowledgment of it, and for it to be given to him in return now and then. So I asked him what game he wanted to play.

He lit up and suggested Name That Tune. His little brother started off immediately, but my older son reveled in trying to beat everyone. Then we switched to the license plate sentence game, which is a spontaneously silly game where you make up a sentence using license plate initials. The competitive element is trying to be the funniest, and he reveled in that.

It was amazing to see how much a little occasion for him to become the life of the party uplifted his mood. I think sitting with his grandpa and dad as they caught up at dinner helped too. The only trouble being we couldn't get him to sleep last night (though having a super-sweet chocolate shake at the end of the day may have been the real reason for that).

Being introverted does not mean being selfish: in fact I believe that taking care of my emotional needs keeps me from being a burden to others. But it can lead to selfishness if we forget not everyone has that capability, especially kids. By now, the novelty of pandemic challenges has faded and extroverts may be running out of ideas for new things to try that will satisfy their need for stimulation.

I've come to realize it's harder for introverts to recognize when an extrovert is in a slump. If it's a kid, especially, because we might think, "Finally, he's quieting down like I always ask him to, he's maturing!" If it's a grownup, we might simply not find it strange for them to be quiet yet restless, and suggest books and series we love. I now realize to my regret my family had not taken care of the emotional needs of my extroverted grandmother after she fell out with her mahjong group. Especially since her main outlet became making us lots of desserts and snacks and making us (me mostly, as an only girl) clothes. It was too easy to attribute her subsequent grumpiness to getting old, blame media stereotypes for that. I've since then gotten to know plenty of cheery old people, being around mostly retirees as a rare work-at-home mom in my neighborhood. And when we went to family reunions and weddings, she was much more animated, even on the drive home and I realize now, too late, that my introverted family hadn't recognized or satisfied her emotional needs as an extrovert. I wish now that instead of just asking for another Daphne du Maurier from her shelf I had shared with her what I loved about Rebecca and asked her to share more positive life stories instead of growing silent in shock when she trotted out a series of tragic ones (when I had to interview her about WWII for school, after sharing the scary experiences she did drift to more positive recollections. I see a similar pattern in my son in that he likes to start out a conversation by startling or shocking us, which I guess is typical of extroverts who delight in stimulation and attention).

The unusual nature of the times should lead extroverts and introverts from considering how their particular strengths can help both them and each other. Introverts don't necessarily not need people. I do find I have fewer story ideas when I'm not out in the world; but I used to get as many from news and social media. The trouble is the kinds of things shared to me now tend to be about the same things. Of course pandemic concerns and current events are important, but random science facts that inspired several stories in Virtual Centre and Other Science Fiction Stories and interesting trivia and human stories are what stimulate my imagination. Ultimately, though, I think observing random people every day helped me bring characters to life. An introvert may not engage with you much but they still get something out of being around you, especially if they're creative.

In these times, extroverts keep introverts from being stuck in a rut, but introverts can model how satisfying solitary pursuits and quiet, focused social interactions can be. Meeting each other's needs helps keep both types on an even keel and able to contribute to each other's well-being. So, yes, introverts, check on your extrovert friends: they're not okay now that the novelty of life in a pandemic has worn off. And don't just check up on them, but offer them a chance to chat and show off. And extroverts, make sure your introvert friends really are okay and not just keeping their feelings bottled up so they won't be a bother to anyone.

My husband's a therapist, so you don't have to worry about me. Thanks for asking, though. :)

I got the idea for my historical YA book Woman in a Frame while I was working on my Art Studies thesis. In particular, I was inspired by the stories shared with me by art historian Santiago Pilar, whose article had inspired my topic in the first place. He told me about how he had found old portraits in some of the strangest places. In one simple home, a nineteenth century work on a panel of wood was used to cover a washtub! These fascinating anecdotes as well as the fact that my studies on early Philippine women artists brought up more questions than answers made me think I this was great material for a novel.

I could have started this novel as soon as I graduated. I was writing short stories occasionally but the idea of a novel was still too daunting. Then there was a string of contractual jobs, which all contributed in their way to my book. I interned at the Metropolitan Museum of Manila, which was the basis for the museum where Ning and Jed had their lessons and found the portrait. Having access to some of the private and out-of-the-way corridors of the museum allowed us to see works that were yet to be displayed, though we never dared touch them. I learned more about art of the period covered as an assistant for the CCP's Centennial exhibit.

Then, another job on an entirely different topic: research assistant for Alfred McCoy, collecting material on Martial Law victims. The cases were constantly featured in the papers in those days as the trial of Imelda Marcos was ongoing.

I went through the papers for every related snippet. One was a letter to the editor from artist Lee Aguinaldo about being contracted to paint a mural for the Marcoses, who then refused to pay for it. Nor could the artist get back the works he had expended so much time and effort on. My heart bled for him, and he and the desparecidos of the news stories were united in the character that would become Ning's artist father.

One other thing I developed as I did my research was a sense of purpose. Since I had to get material from the daily news, my family was on the lookout for stories of the human rights victims as well. Anyone who got to the daily papers before I did had to be sure to inform me if there was a story and pass it on to me.

My parents had always been clearly against the Marcoses, but seemed to think the degree of torture and murder attributed to them was greatly exaggerated. Having had traumatic childhoods--my father growing up during WWII and my mother dealing with the tragic death of her younger brother--they had a strong need to believe in fairy tales, to focus on the beauty of the world and believe people were good at heart. These painful news stories were too much for my depressed dad, but my mom read them and said she never realized just how many people had become victims. She knew a few people who had been jailed and tortured but never realized to what extent it had happened.

And that made me see there was value in revealing the truth to people, whether through journalism or fiction. It may be fiction, but the entire book is based on true stories stitched together. I took some of the most affecting aspects of the many real-life stories I had read about and the stories I surmised beneath them. From the mildly acclaimed women artists and their lives as mothers to large families, I drew a picture of frustration alongside the joy of creating art. Though the story of Ning's father was not central to the plot, it had similar beats, of an artist's frustration at lack of appreciation and respect, bitterness at working for the oppressors.

It is important to make people not only aware that things have happened, but to feel how it was: the struggle to earn a living, the pain of abuses and the loss of loved ones. The experiences of both nineteenth-century artist Marcela and Ning's father the 1970s muralist both show ways that frustration and pain motivate artists in creative expression. But even if this connection is lost on readers, what matters is that they know these things happened, and how they affected people.

This reflection popped up in my FB memories today. I still think it's applicable. By now I've written several YA books, one of which appears in full on Wattpad. https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/22403.... The one mentioned below, still needs a bit of research for me to finish it, being historical. Much as I love historical, writing it takes a lot of time and effort, whereas I produced the first draft of my contemporary YA Wattpad novel (all 75,000 words of it!) in just 3 months. Luckily, there are many types of writing I like to do, but almost always they end up YA. Here's why:

So I'm writing this novel on Wattpad and though I didn't intend it to be, I think it's really YA. The protagonist is seventeen at the start, and though I plan for her to be 20 at the end, most of the story will cover the months before she turns eighteen. And it's a coming of age story. As well as romance.

I do all sorts of writing but for some reason, the writing I most yearn to do is YA romance. Since I have daughter who will soon be old enough to read these books, though, I am now suddenly reflecting on why I want to write YA romance and how I want to present it.
While like most teens I read a lot of romance for the kilig factor there are some books that have stayed with me and helped me figure out my life and relationships. Many books showed romance as happening naturally after the protagonist had developed her own character, talents, and friendships. That helped me a lot as a teen. Some of my favorite books as a teen, Elizabeth George Speare's The Witch of Blackbird PondThe Witch of Blackbird Pond, Maureen Daly's Acts of LoveActs of Love, L. M. Montgomery's Anne of the IslandAnne of the Island, L. M. Alcott's Rose in BloomRose in Bloom I took away an even more lasting value, the value of loving a person of character, someone who will stand up for his friends and family--and you.

I think encouraging this kind of standard and goal is protection for the teen as well. You cannot force them to suppress the yearning for love if it's there. (I'm not into encouraging it while it's not, though, as in my daughter, which is why I try to keep her from reading books with romance--she's nine but can read at higher levels and tween books these days often contain romance too.) But if they hold out for partners of good character, then they probably won't go down the wrong path.

And I always wished for books in a local context because by then I was old enough to realize the setting made a difference and not just because I was reading about characters who took walks in the snow and hardly ever ate rice. Reading about relationships in a different cultural context made me less understanding and accepting of some things I now appreciate. In fact, having read American YA books I would be wary of letting my daughter attend boy-girl parties once she reaches high school! And I'm still seething over the teacher who to thrill my daughter's class told them they would have dates for eighth-grade grad ball. I haven't forgotten how I felt as a teen, just hope I can connect enough with today's teens to write books that will resonate with them too.

With my daughter turning into a little woman with her first teen birthday, I finally remembered to write my assessment of the different Little Women film adaptations. At least it's still May in the north while I write this tribute to Louisa MAY Alcott (who wasn't named after the month but was just carrying a family name).

Most recent version: 4 stars. Picturesque but not for kids. Well, it depends on your kid. If she's a romantic and very focused, she could probably follow the convolutions of the back-and-forth storytelling which focuses on the adult lives of the girls. And she might be able to live with a Bhaer who doesn't look the least how he's described in the book but is much younger and thinner. It's the most introspective an feminist version and focuses almost entirely on Jo.

90's version: 4 and a half stars. I think this captures the sweetness and humor of the classic best but in opposition to the first one,, the later scenes about the girls as adults is rushed, particularly the buildup of Jo's career.

1949: 3 stars. Great Jo, worst Laurie ever. The Laurie here doesn't look or act at all like the Laurie in the book. Beth is sweet, Amy starts out entertainingly flamboyant then abruptly fades to the background, which is annoying and weird. If you can't get over Jo's rejection of Laurie, this is the version for you, because here you will not even care: the Laurie's so unlikable! I gues they wanted to make a strong case for Jo's rejection, but they overdid it by making him hate her writing in such an un-Laurie way and truning him into a model of male toxicity. Oh, and Meg is pretty forgettable. Just watch this for June Allyson and Jo and Margaret O'Brien as Beth--who weirdly stays little, but that makes her death more affecting, though completely offscreen.

1933: 3 and a half stars. Rather rambling though gets all the best moments in. It's just, in the determination to put in all the fan favorite bits, it ends up uncohesive. But I love how it highlights the teaming-up of the sisters: Meg and Jo supporting each other as they nurse Beth, then Beth cheering on Jo as she goes to peddle her writing. Frances Dee does all the warmhearted actions of Beth best, not fading into the background as all other Beth's did, but including so many of those does make her coming out of her shell less dramatic. And I think it does the Bhaer-Jo romance best! Laurie here is fun as a boy and obnoxiously dull as a grown-up, which is just how he is in the book.

Best Portrayals:

Jo - Saoirse Ronan of the 2019 version is definitely the most accurate in appearance and attitude throughout. June Allyson has the most beautiful hair and she and Katherine Hepburn do teen Jo with the appropriate energy but in both versions adult Jo seems too neat, conventional, and feminine. Same with Winona Ryder, though she does have her moments, like when she speaks for suffrage. But Saoirse shows us a Jo who as an adult still has untidy hair and runs through the streets in sensible boots, which is exactly how she should be.

Meg - Trini Alvarado and Emma Watson are just about equal as Megs. I like how the most recent version deals more with adult Meg’s thoughts and feelings and her relationship with John. And the way they settle their fight about money is incredibly touching.

Beth - Claire Danes makes the most solidly believable Beth. Admittedly, the character must be difficult to act, because she's warm and involved with her family but clams up around strangers. As I said, Frances Dee expresses her loving nature best, her love of music too, and Margaret O'Brien succeeds most in making her timidity endearing. And the 1949 family is the most sympathetic towards shy Beth--the others tend to largely ignore her until she falls ill.

Amy - Kirsten Dunst does child Amy best, and not just because she is the only actual child who portrays her. With her sweet voice, she makes young Amy lovable even when vain and self-centered. I thought the 2019 version went overboard in showing her burning of Jo's stories as premeditated, which made it very hard to forgive. Such a vindictive child should have been sent to live with Aunt March. But Florence Pugh is perfect as the adult Amy, actually winning respect for the character. She has the best wardrobe, too, and is the only one who shows artistic ability.

Aunt March - all but Meryl Streep's Aunt March are caricatures. As entertaining as the cranky one-dimensional Aunt Marches are, only Meryl Streep's makes us see that she is sincerely well-meaning and secretly really fond of all her nieces, as Alcott wrote her.

Marmee - they're all pretty much alike. Warm, capable Marmee is the heart of the book and that remains constant throughout the movies.

Laurie - There isn't much to choose from between Christian Bale and Timothee Chamelet. I think Christian Bale is most believable as mischievous young Laurie, though 1933's Douglass Motgomery gets more of those moments with Jo. Bale also makes the most believable transition to decadent adult Laurie, but Chamelet's sensitive face betrays more feeling for Jo and Amy.

Prof. Bhaer: The funny match for Jo, as Alcott intended it, is most fully realized in the 1933 version, which shows his kindness to an overworked housemaid and the children of Jo's boardinghouse, as well as his wisdom, morality, and willingness to sew his own buttons on. And the stiff manner of delivering lines all the actors did in those days actually suits this particular character, who sounds dignified despite his awkward English. And the romance with Katharine Hepburn's Jo seems to unflod so naturally with him. Gabriel Byrne is the best-looking Bhaer, but he is the most authentic.

There are still versions of Little Women that I haven't seen, as it turns out. When I do, I'll update this. But with two great recent film versions of the classic book, I don't think you need to look for those older ones.