The Year That Was 2023

Finally, I get to do this. My own version of Wrapped, minus the ugly 90s PowerPoint graphics. Just photos of my reality, my what-has-beens so I can freely clear up the slate and welcome my what-will-bes.

I will be one of those people who’d say that 2023 has been kind to me. Merciful, even. I think a part of it was me finding my way back to a consistent devotion schedule which I lost years past. I missed this, just an end-of-the-day moment with my journal and The Book in hand, recollecting moments and counting blessings. Somehow, no matter what has happened through the day, acceptance had been easier. We could still say, God is good.

(Funny that as of writing this, that moment I opened my journal, this appeared. To be consistent. That’s what I tried to be this year: to be the one and the same as a person and on social media, to keep my routines, to follow up on good choices.)

On Life

Life was funny this year. One thing I learned to love: heading out to the palengke with mama, and our Sunday commutes to the church. Jeepneys always brim with stories. Another thing I loved: drives with papa. There was a moment, while we drove on my favorite road surrounded with rice fields on both sides, and I told him my worries, and he said, the most certain tone, “May imposible ba sa Diyos?” (Is there anything impossible with God?) Whenever I feel fretful and sad, I still think about this, and courage breaks through, the way the afternoon sun lit the sky on that day.

Perhaps one of the darkest—literally—times of 2023 was that month-long rain that caused heavy flooding in our area. My brother, who worked in another city, would have to wade through the flooded streets at night just get back home. I’d take it lucky if a tricycle would kindly drive through the waters, like a boat, and bring him here. I’d leave out a towel and soap by the gate at night so my brother could wash off the dirt before he entered the house. When the storms were too harsh, he was allowed to take the leave, and water managed to break into the house—and parts of our ceiling. This was how home was for two weeks, and God just held everything together.

During this time, our parents, too, were stuck in their pastoral house at the church. For a good week or two, they lost electricity—their place was closer to the sea, and was a catch basin for all the flood coming down the higher regions. We were worried for them, but papa, who’s a senior, would wade through the flood to get to his car, parked at someone else’s garage, and charge his phone. He’d also get food for mama. The church looked after them (and I am forever with gratitude).

And then, the rain stopped. Finally, they could go home.

I’d think the worst days were over, but it had just started. We then recognized papa’s limp. Not the kind that could be resolved with topical pain killers. The kind that made it hard for him to even just sit down, or rise up from bed. I wondered if it was caused by the flood. If he had a wound, or if he stumbled somewhere while he was wading through the waters. We had to see a doctor. And then, another doctor.

I was with him each time he had an appointment. I just had to make sure I was there. Papa, being the dad, the pillar of the family, didn’t really like being assisted. He used to not be. He used to be the strong one in this family. So me holding the umbrella for him, waiting on him as he walked slowly, carefully toward the clinic, probably felt painful to him, too. But I think it was that beautiful, gracious heart of his that slowly accepted this new reality: things are not going to be how it was before.

The doctor suggested he get therapy. We finally had a consultation schedule and on the first day, Dr. Mattias removed the water from his joints, which easily made everything better! It was ostheo-arthritis, and papa had to learn how to make parts of his body strong so he could withstand the degenerative effects of this disease. By September, he started his therapy. And like the joyful person that he was, I’d always hear his laughter filling the room as he made conversations with his therapist. And his laugh always made us smile.

Papa finished his therapy. Sometimes, I’d still see him wiggle and struggle out of the car, but he’s alright. He could walk better. He’s keeping up with his morning exercises and watches his food. We celebrate every wins, every breath. Hangga’t meron. Hangga’t kaya. Hangga’t pwede.

Oh, I kept talking about papa, right? Well, mama had gotten into a few hobbies this year: watching K-dramas (she loved Attorney Woo Young Woo!), mixing oils, and buying scarves for everyone. Our bonding dates are usually Tuesdays, or Wednesdays, when we had to ask Mang Tato (a dear tricycle driver) to take us to the market early in the morning. Mama had made new friends: a pork stall owner where a hospitable, senior-aged lady chops meat with her big knife. And a chicken stall where a group of ladies preside (this was where she’d get her chicken neck, her staples for her milky sopas, her arroz caldo, potentially for pancit, too). I’ve also met the lady (she’s a girl’s girl) whom she buy fruits from.

Some new habits: a newfound love for Lola Nena’s (papa thinks their glorified donuts tasted like the old bicho-buchi), taking care of plants (I used to have mint and rosemary, but the only ones that survived are my ever-green dills and a lean variety of oregano. One day, I’ll have an herb garden and my house will smell so, so good), taking that long walk to the grocery (it’s a kilometer and a half, but not really a problem if I head out early in the morning), sending snail mails, and taking photos of interesting things inside the jeepney. For research purposes.

On being an Author (which still sounds unbelievable to me)

I had so many opportunities to meet readers this year. Earlier, Books of Wonder invited me on a panel with an entire gang of magical, shimmering, legendary writers. BoW requested for signed bookplates and gave me the option: them sending theirs to me, or if I had a bunch, I’d send them signed ones. It was funny because I was signing mine in the middle of the busy foodcourt so I could send it through the courier within the mall that day, because I was worried mine wouldn’t get to BoW in time.

I also had a chance to talk with the beautiful people at The Filipina Authors Book Club! I was only a stranger, but that moment felt so special when Filipinos from across the world told me how beautiful Marikit was, and in many times with their own color and interpretation, which gave me so much joy. (Thank you so much for having me, Vanessa, and I felt everyone’s embrace as I sat in my corner, trying to hold my tears back).

2023 was my first school visit! Sometime in May, International School Manila invited me to speak at their Book Week and it was so, so fun! Thank you, Miss Remoroza, for hosting us. By June, Young Star Philippines‘ new EIC Andrea Panaligan invited me and fellow author Mae Coyiuto for an author-on-author digital interview for the newspaper’s 37th Anniversary on July. Which was rad!

I also got to meet a young Fil-Am writer this year! Annika comes home from New Jersey to visit her family here. We met up at Fully Booked and literally just chatted while we walked around the floor. I know she was fired up when she got back home; she had done live poetry shows, made short story submissions, and is currently writing a new middle grade novel that brims with so much Filipino heart!

It was on August, the Philippines’ Buwan ng Wika, when Marikit and the Ocean of Stars was elected as the Book of the Month by the the Bisaya-centric bookish community Book Chickas PH, and the southern Luzon-set Talk Bookish to Me PH. One of my favorite parts is when our first emotionally stirring interview with BCPH could not be recovered, so we had to do the talk all over again! I loved it! Fritz, Richard, and Em were just amazing people and to be in that space listening to them was such a fun moment for me. Also, they made me cry. And to wrap it all off, both BCPH and TBTMPH had a Facebook live collab and invited me to talk about Marikit. I finally got to meet Emmanuel, whom I consider as TBTMPh’s spokesperson, and they were a delight to be with!

(I am sorry to disappoint you, readers who believed I was the OG Manghahabi! My lola was. She’s probably sewing a lot of things in heaven. Can’t wait to see her again.)

This year is also my first taste at the Manila International Book Fair, and I get to be in a panel with my favorite, most admired people: Gail D. Villanueva, Mae Coyiuto, and the New York Times Bestselling Author Thea Guanzon. I also got to meet Kate Heceta (now Mrs. Arellano), the amazing Benjamin Orion. and Shealea! My family went there with me, for support (just in case nobody comes to my during book signing), but there was Emmanuel and the Talk Bookish PH family, Keith for Book Chickas PH, and more amazing book readers and reviewers, including Diane, who left me what could be my favorite bookmark.

Just as when the year was about to end, and I thought I had rolled my last roll, the amazing writer, editor, and artist KB sent feelers for a writer’s conference and asked me if I could spare time for them. Of course, I would! I’m all about kids and it wouldn’t really matter if we met on a sidewalk and tell stories there. Funnily, the event KB was talking about was the first-ever Young Writers Conference by the Book Writers’ Club, a beautiful launch festival by Miss Rhoda Osalvo, whom I had the privilege to correspond with. I finally met Catherine Dellosa and had my copy of Of Myths and Men signed! She was so wonderful, she gave me this one-and-only Marikit book keychain as a gift.

(Readers, I sobbed. I really did.)

On Writing

I owe you this: an update about my writing. Not that my writing was spectacular in anyway. I am just like every other dreamer, trying to grasp at clouds. We’re all paving paths for ourselves. Anyway! Writing!

I wrote a lot this year. Forgive me for missing out on my newsletters; I had truly neglected them (as well as updating my very own website). Most of my writing was spent on repairing the novels I wanted to send out; trying to make them make sense to me. One is about a girl and a library for monsters. The second is a world of darkness and light; pretty cliche, until we get to the very Filipino parts. I loved both of them, I always code my heroes as Filipinos, no matter how imaginative or diverse the world is. But the second one was special to me. The second one was the story that I wrote during dark, dark days, when things were supposed to get better, and it didn’t. I always go back to Christina Soontornvat’s A Wish in the Dark as a comp, and I hope I did this one justice.

This was the year I waited for the next step. For my possible Book 2. I had a lot of unfinished manuscripts that I started on 2022, but it made sense to me to focus on just two and send it to Trisha. Melanie, as always, had only been supportive. We sent both manuscripts but quietly, I was crossing all of my fingers and wishing, “Let it be the 2nd story. The next story of my heart.”

By the third quarter of the year, Trisha had her answer.

We have a Book 2. And I am most honored to bring it to you.

What’s in it for me on 2024?

I will be writing. A lot. I’ll be taking on new clients, and I’ll finish a good draft of this new book project I am excited to send out to my editor. I hope my publisher still wants me, even though I am just an average writer with less pulls. Please don’t let me go on TikTok. I am happy to be a hermit.

I will be reviving my newsletter. Or, better yet, more updates on this blog! You see, I used to blog every day, back when I was an unpublished youngling who just wanted to express her feelings into the Internet void. Now that my website has a new look, you can expect me to keep hanging out here, writing and posting about things that are important to me. They’re mostly ordinary things.

If you have gotten this far, I just want to tell you that somewhere across the world, people like us are suffering beyond anything imaginable. While we carry new hopes and dreams into 2024, may we also offer our strength and voice to those in need: to the people of Sudan, of Congo, of the beautiful Palestine.

We all deserve to dream and hope and live and be free.

This post is dedicated to Louie, Alembong, Butlig, Uno, Batik, Mochi, Puso, Luna, Peechit, Tiger, Juno, Mr. Fox, Putot, Bulag, Ladybug, and Oranje.