Slave to Fame

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We all start as nobody.

Every blogger begins with no one reading his stories. They lie there, in the World Wide Web, among the trillions of pages all seeking attention.

"Read me! Me! Me!"

"No!! Read me first!"

Slowly by slowly, a trickle of people start reading your blog. Some of them are nice enough to leave a comment. Then you begin to attract followers.

Ten, twenty, then fifty, then after a while, a hundred. A hundred twenty, and so on and so forth. At first, it's just fun. A delight to see someone talking back to you, arguing with you, agreeing with you. Then bit by bit, you begin to get obsessed.



I didn't notice it but I had started checking my blog more often to see whether someone had added another comment, whether my followers had increased. I'd wake up in the middle of the night to pee and I'd check for comments to my latest entry. I'd look at the statistics over and over again.

Little did I know but I had become a slave to fame. But who can blame me? Let he or she amongst us who is not guilty be the first to point an accusing finger. At one point, we all crave and desire that. To be admired, liked, loved. Who wouldn't?

When people tell you that they never forget certain stories you wrote; that you made them laugh, made them cry. When some of the bloggers you admire most tell you you're one of their favorites. When strangers from uhm, well Grindr, would message and say "Oh my God! Are you Kane the blogger? You're like a star man!!!"

But the thing with popularity is; it is never enough. Like money and beauty, you always want more. So what if I have a thousand followers, I want ten thousand more. So what if one hundred people commented on my last entry, I want five hundred more.

It went on for months until one afternoon, I found myself clicking the refresh button every three minutes hoping someone added a comment. I caught myself and suddenly, I felt very foolish. I began to laugh at the absurdity of it, for allowing myself to be consumed by the desire to be popular, for letting fame get into my head. It was enough.

Some of the more observant readers noticed I don't have a followers widget in my page. I had one but I removed it. To stop myself from being an attention whore and focus on what I truly care most about.

Writing. Not fame, but words.



Having said that, it is not my intention to say that you, my readers are not important to me. As the writer Barbara Kingsolver once said, "We are nothing if we can't respect our readers."

I think I have some of the most loyal and intelligent readers and I am grateful to you for accompanying me on my journey. I know that in a world full of great writers (and bloggers), I am humbled that you took time to read my stories and put interesting comments.

And the thing is, I think I can be a very difficult writer. I try to write about different things (topics which some may like, but turn off others), I write long pieces and given the rather, uhm, short-attention span people have nowadays, it's a wonder people actually take time to read the entirety of a story. But some of you do, and I am genuinely touched.

It's audacious enough to send a piece of writing into the world, to ask people to take time to read it, shut up, ignore lovers and kids and officemates, delay work, just to listen to me. But that is what we all do, we ask people to listen to us. And the reason why I appreciate your loyalty is because I am a terribly demanding reader myself. And I make no apologies for it.

I have long ago accepted I will not live forever. I will never be able to finish all the great books and movies out there, never have enough time to see all the museums and mountains and castles in the world. Time, indeed, is gold.

And therefore, when it comes to reading blogs I have to choose. Let's face it. Though the number of bloggers has increased dramatically through the years, the amount of time we have has not. Each of us still has the same twenty-four hours in a day.

And believe me, I know how you feel when it comes to reading long entries. In the introduction to the Best American Short Stories 2001, Kingsolver said

Once in a workshop after I'd already explained repeatedly that brevity is the soul of everything, writing-wise, and I was still getting fifty-page stories that should have been twenty-page stories, I announced: "Starting tomorrow, I will read twenty-five pages of any story you give me, and then I'll stop. If you think you have the dazzling skill to keep me hanging on for pages twenty-six plus because my life won't be complete without them, just go ahead and try."

Over time, we fall into a pattern. There are bloggers whose every entry you read, there are others that you don't visit as often. And eventually… some you never visit at all.

Either there were too many grammatical errors, they didn't know how to structure and edit their work, or their stories simply weren't compelling enough. Similar to what some readers probably felt with my blog.

Some of those who used to regularly comment on my stories are gone. Sometimes, I ask myself: where are they? Why did they stop writing to me? I miss them. But the world changes, people come and go. But some of you stayed. Ain't that something.
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Storytelling

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When writers write, they think they're just telling a story. How my lover cheated on me. How much I love my grandmother. How boring work is. But what we don't realize is that the stories we tell about who we are may define who we become.

Life stories, by their very nature, are a retrospective reconstruction. We all have different versions of the same story. My friends and I attended a party once and the next day, when I asked them to tell me what happened, it turns out we all remembered things differently.

Or, I'd ask people to discuss a film and they'd say they like it or dislike it for different things. It was the same film but what was significant for one was trivial to another.

In a New York Times article titled "This Is Your Life (and How You Tell It)" published in 2007, researchers discovered there was a strong correlation between the content of a person's life and the stories he/she tells.

Those with mood problems have many good memories, but these scenes are usually tainted by some dark detail. The pride of college graduation is spoiled when a friend makes a cutting remark. The wedding party was wonderful until the best man collapsed from drink. A note of disappointment seems to close each narrative phrase.


By contrast, so-called generative adults — those who score highly on tests measuring civic-mindedness, and who are likely to be energetic and involved — tend to see many of the events in their life in the reverse order, as linked by themes of redemption. They flunked sixth grade but met a wonderful counselor and made honor roll in seventh. They were laid low by divorce, only to meet a wonderful new partner. Often, too, they say they felt singled out from very early in life — protected, even as others nearby suffered.

The research argues that "narrative themes are, as any other trait, driving factors in people's behavior."

“We find that when it comes to the big choices people make — Should I marry this person? Should I take this job? Should I move across the country? — they draw on these stories implicitly, whether they know they are working from them or not,” Dr. McAdams said.



When I read personal blogs or stories, I tend to create an image in my mind of who the writer is. Oftentimes, it is how the writer perceived himself as an actor in the story.

The writer could be talking of a heartache; which is quite common in personal blogs. Does he portray himself as kawawa (the underdog)? Does he regret falling in love? Or did he use that experience to learn? It is how we choose to narrate the story that matters.

Storytelling can also be important in battling personal demons. Another study showed patients who sought treatment for depression, marital problems and who won told very similar tales about the experience.

They described their problem, whether depression or an eating disorder, as coming on suddenly, as if out of nowhere. They characterized their difficulty as if it were an outside enemy, often giving it a name (the black dog, the walk of shame). And eventually they conquered it.

While these people saw their problems (drinking, cheating) as a villain to be defeated, the others felt these were part of their own character.

 
 
Another trick I've learned is to learn to shift perspective from a first-person point of view to a third-person. Remembering events in the third-person point of view allows us to be a little distant from the story and to be more critical and objective.

In a 2005 study reported in the journal Psychological Science, researchers at Columbia University analyzed how people reacted to a painful memory when it was recalled in the third person.

“What our experiment showed is that this shift in perspective, having this distance from yourself, allows you to relive the experience and focus on why you’re feeling upset,” instead of being immersed in it, said Ethan Kross, the study’s lead author. The emotional content of the memory is still felt, he said, but its sting is blunted as the brain frames its meaning, as it builds the story.



What is interesting in all these studies is the implication that the power to change our lives may fundamentally be related to how we tell our stories. We write, apparently not just to express but also to create ourselves. So be careful how you write your stories, you may be revealing  more than you want to.



Postscript:
Thank you to those who took the time to read, understand and share their thoughts about what I wrote. I fear I may have failed in making myself clear on certain things and because I strongly believe that this artice can be very helpful, I will labor to answer some of your comments.

It would help if you also read the original article as it appeared in the New York Times. I included a link above.

I noticed most of you focused on the implication of how other people would view you based on how you write. But that is not the point of this research. It is not how others perceive you, it is how you perceive yourself.

What others may conclude about you is irrelevant. It is not what kind of a writer you are, it is what kind of a person you think you are as revealed by how you tell or write your life stories.

The research also focuses only on life stories, the story of your life so it does not apply to fabricated tales, or fiction. We can surmise and discuss how we reveal ourselves in our fictional works but this is clearly beyond the limits of the research.

Again, it was a pleasure reading your comments and I look forward to hearing your ideas. Cheers =)







I would like to thank my friend Niel for sharing with me the article. He has been a wonderful friend, confidant and my de-facto shrink whenever I feel that life has dealt me another blow. But see Niel, look at where we are now? =)



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Take Me Far, Bring Me Home

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Many years ago, I stood in front of Claude Monet's painting of the Rouen Cathedral at the Musée d'Orsay in Paris. I was admiring his genius and wondered at how a painter is able to create an artwork that is distinctly his.

Do all artists have a signature? A certain way of looking at the world, a certain philosophy that differentiates a person from all the rest.

Lately, these questions have been in my mind as I try to understand myself as a writer and as I seek to venture into new worlds. Do I, as a writer, have a signature?

What is it? Is it a certain way with words, a certain lyricism? Is it what I write about? Or is it how I write about it? Is it even possible to identify a signature? Perhaps it is like a shadow that lives in your mind; you are dimly aware of it but once you train a spotlight on it, it vanishes.



People use different entry points to write. Sometimes, I write because of an emotion and I use that as a starting point for a journey. Oftentimes, these stories end up raw, powerful, sharp.

But when my mind is clear and calm, I begin the journey by thinking of a memory. I think of Mindanao and I remember growing up in my hometown Cotabato, where four dialects are spoken simultaneously. I remember our tiny house and quiet, deserted streets at night.

I think of a red headband and I remember falling in love with a stranger. I think of the Grand Canyon and I remember feeling small, in awe of nature and time.

I once said I write because memory is fleeting, and so I try to capture the past and the present. Things one cannot hold on to.

Although at times, it may seem I write to forget too. To leave the past behind in search of a future.



But now, I want to write about a fantasy, other lives that I haven't lived / have yet to live / waiting to be lived. Perhaps... will never live.

I want to experiment more with writing styles, perspectives, tones, subjects and characters in my stories. I want to create characters people can fall in love with; men who pay for sex, women who feel they are never beautiful enough. I want to write about lust, and anger, and jealousy.

I want to write about hate. I want to write about all the things we all try to bury deep down in ourselves, the emotions we pretend we never feel. The versions of ourselves we deny exist.



But not everyone likes change.

"It is a risk, Kane," Drew said. "Especially when you've built up an image. You may lose readers. For example, when I read your Bulitas entry, the first thing that came to my mind was 'OMG. What will they think of Kane?'."

"I mean, when others cruise in comfort rooms, parang wow, exciting. But when it's the Kane, parang, ay, he also does that pala?"

"What happened to standards? Some will understand that people are complex and appreciate that kind of adventure. But others, I think, they prefer to see their celebrities as stars - all shiny and glossy."

"What do I want?" I asked.

"Ahhh. I think you want interesting readers," Drew replied.

Smart boy, this one.

"You want people who can see the layers."

Then he suddenly quoted something Rudeboy told me once.

You, for instance, can easily come across as a flighty pretty boy whose interests do not seem to go beyond his chichi friends, the drama of his lovelife, or the importance of eyeshadow.

But it is the depth beneath that glossy surface that continually interests me.

"But not everyone can," Drew warned.

I thought about what he said.

When I first started writing, I wrote for myself like most people do. That is the most basic, most fundamental form of writing: self-expression.

As I grew and became more mature as a writer, I begun to learn to speak to an audience and my goals changed. Aside from self-expression, I wanted to connect to people, make them think, frighten them, shock them, create an emotion, a feeling, instill a thought.

I wanted to steal their hearts. Take them to places far, bring them home.

I learned to plan stories, to space out entries. I started three projects including Open Spaces, Spit Roast, and Sex Etiquette. I wanted to be the kind of writer who is unafraid to try out different things, to be brave.

Some of you may wonder why I do not respond to comments on my stories. I feel that each work should be able to stand on its own, without the writer explaining it. But that's just me.

I do love hearing your thoughts and in the spirit of bravery, I want you to be more honest in your criticisms. Tell me if you hated it, which parts and why? Were the characters poorly constructed? Was it the use of a certain language, a certain metaphor? Was it cliché?

I don't think we can grow as writers if all we see are good reviews. Bad reviews are important too; they remind us we are not gods.

And it is because we are not gods that we write, to create a vessel for our life stories. And once we are older, perhaps we can look back and see how beautiful it all was, even the sad, painful parts of it.

A Life Worth Reading

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"Have you ever unfollowed anyone?" he asked everyone around the table.

Interesting, I thought to myself. I was with a group of bloggers and we started talking about why we "follow" the stories of a certain writer. And why we stop.

Nine years ago, I opened a blog to serve as a repository of things that I liked; quotes from films, books, articles, poems, and songs.

I started writing regularly last year as a way to make sense of a breakup then. I also read more and more blogs and became acquainted with their owners' stories. It was a distraction then, and it was fun reading the drama of their lives, whether it was a fuck in the gym, a fight between best friends, or another love affair ending.

People at the table started offering their opinions on what constitutes good writing. One said he doesn't like reading stories of overly gay men. Another feels some stories are fabricated. Someone said other people's writings are difficult to decipher; too cryptic. And some said most people's stories are simply, well… boring.



I was curious. When I checked the number of blogs I was following, I was astounded. Wow, apparently, it's either there are almost 200 very good bloggers out there or I'm not very discriminating in my taste.

While browsing these blogs, I realized most bloggers are able to churn out one or two amazing, brilliant pieces that really blow you away. That one story that made people fall in love with you. Usually, these are the stories that are the most personal, the ones closest to our hearts.

But sooner or later, the drama in our lives end and our stories become, well … ordinary.



Still, there are those who can bring the magic out of the mundane. As Mary Norris, copy writer at The New Yorker, once said, "A good writer can make you care about anything."

There are stories from our daily lives that can transform from just an anecdote into an experience.

Something we can tell our friends about. Something that made us laugh. Something that made us think. It is our personal reflection that makes our experiences unique.

When I examined the kinds of stories I like, I realize I am a very conservative reader. I like form and structure. I like grammar and spelling. I like economy and precision.

But that's just me. Blogs are a person's private kingdom and in that space, their rules govern.

"I'll write what I want to, how I want to."

And I respect that.

Every now and then, I stumble into a writer who reminds me that writing can be elegant. That reading can be a joy.

They shock, they surprise, they titillate. They make you cry, remember, or forget.



And then, once in a while, you discover a writer who changes you.



"I need you to understand something. I wrote this for you. I wrote this for you and only you. Everyone else who reads it, doesn’t get it. They may think they get it, but they don’t. This is the sign you’ve been looking for."
---I Write This For You