Writing Urge, anyone?

Thanks to Esquire’s September 2014 (where EHeads was cover), a nostalgic wave of writing hit me.  I was reading their section on Essays, and I realized that I haven’t been writing.  Well, I haven’t been writing like I used to --- prolific, consistently melodramatic and insightful.  Over the years, due to career demands and my own personal “happenings”, my writing has dwindled from passion to scarce (in terms of quantity I suppose), from painfully frank and truthful to objective (which we claimed as “technical”) and from deluge to very erratic. And whenever I get to chance upon essays or newspaper columns (even blog posts!) that are beautifully written, I always find myself saying, “I wish I wrote that myself.” or “I could have written that myself.” or “Why didn’t I think of writing about that?!”

Even when I do say I miss writing, my life is an assortment of all things that need to be done – writing not included, unless it is required for work.  There is no more “writing for my own” where I would feverishly write everything that I feel.  I used to write how I saw the world (sounding mature and all so ideal, idealistic and knowing, now all in hindsight of course!), on how I wished my world would be.  I remember writing dedicatedly more when I was in love and in a romantic relationship.  To be young and expressive, and yes, to have all the time in the world, with nary a care. I wrote about it all – in emails I wrote friends, in letters I used to send, in a blog that I have long deleted (the posts of which I didn’t bother to save! *tears up*), in love letters I sent to my past loves (how I wanted to say “lovers” but the term made me feel uneasy as if those moments were clandestine and very underground, which were very not so).  But then again, to use it like it meant “that love that compels you to go crazy and live like it’s you and me against the world” then yes, it would then be appropriate.  My colorful, love-filled young past makes me digress.

When it comes to writing, my own writing included, then I was editing and consciously checking myself for errors.  Over the years though, I have taken it easy on punctuations --- a misplaced comma here and there (but not to alter the meaning please!). But like what Teddy Locsin Jr. said in that same Esquire issue --- all these grammar rules you let slip but if you’ve been used to reading (and writing), you can easily spot a bad sentence.  I must add, it is very easy for me to read a writing without a heart.

I have a number of staff under me, and writing is our bread and butter.  For some reason, I know when they’re into what they wrote, and I tell them when they are not.  How do I know it? If they’re into writing, they are particular about everything: their choice of words is deliberate, their “storytelling” is seamless and their coherence is spot-on.  More than anything, they are careful and attentive to details because they write for The Boss, whose decisions could be anchored on what he would read from what was written.

For most times, when I am asked to write, I think I write the simplest in my team.  My sentences are often simple, the entire document is brief, and I want to claim it as coherent and compliant to what is expected.  Writing in our workplace takes mastery and experience.  It is anchored on a defined set of standards that everyone is hoped (and expected!) to adhere to.  Before I became a boss, I was a staff then and had very meticulous mentors.  In hindsight, it was easy to learn when everything is predictable and the parameters were in place.  I would want to say that, as a boss, my standards and expectations are predictable and defined.  I look for the same things, raise the same issues, ask the same questions.  Writing is this easy.  I do not even attempt to change my staff’s style of writing.  I only edit very glaring grammatical errors.  I let MS Office Apps do that job.  I am always and consistently after substance not style, and it is a known standard within the team.

How I wish, however, I could have the opportunity to read how my staff write off-work.  It must be a dream.  (Hmmm… I could probably ask them but I wonder if there would be “takers.”  I could try asking some though.)

For starters, I should go back to writing.  But when I do, I should also brace myself for opening the gates of emotions and flooding myself with realizations.  But then again, if these will compel me to write even more, then the surge of (my) innermost thoughts is welcome anytime.