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     Roughly around the same time, I had a bad fight with my father. That of which I foresaw, and knew could not have happened, but still ended up the way it is. It, being caused by a third party as the "initiate" or "enabler", which was my mother. But the story about that incident is not worth talking about. Nevertheless, the situation became bad enough that I almost got disowned the same night. It ended up becoming one of the factors that helped severe the connections I have with my parents; it also became a supportive "kick" to my art endeavors. More than simply because I want to live a life where I can pursue illustration as my career, and more than my desire to live a life in solitude, I was now moving forward with my studies with a sidenote that I might be out on the streets anytime soon.. Given, I came across the idea of searching about: mangaka assistants. I thought, "what if I apply for an illustrative job, a mangaka's assistant at that, and get something going". In doing so, I came across a blog page of a former mangaka assistant, and at the last part of the post were links to different sites all about manga-making. A lot were for manga competitions. Turns out, there were competitions being held for aspiring mangakas who are non-Japanese; the competition I selected was that of "SMA's Silent Manga Audition". Turns out, if you have what it takes, the sponsors of the competition would bring you to Japan, and support your manga creation right there, in a "village" they built for that very purpose. As I analyzed the state of affairs I was in, this newfound "ticket to the future", "ticket to Japan", "ticket to a place for artists", "ticket to all good things", became the goal I decided to work towards, for the next and last 2 months of 2020, and for months to come..  

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     At the same time I started focusing my drawing affairs towards producing a one-shot manga (by the way, I finished my first go with anatomy, that being I finished reading the books of Sir Stephen Rogers and Georg Bridgman which started from March to roughly around October, I believe), I started learning the Japanese language too. For the reasons being: because I wanted to utilize Japanese onomatopoeia, which is one of manga's defining elements, and because I simply wanted to learn Japanese in this lifetime of mine (why set it aside for "next time", for my "next life" to do, again, right?). I also studied more about storywriting, panel compositions, the Hiragana and Katakana writing systems, and others. All the while dealing with much unneeded stress from familial matters; I had to, every now and then, make sure that I'm still of sound-mind.. It's insane how I managed to stay until now.. (have I?).. As my mental health was being tested of its limits (as per usual), my physical health was also suffering. Or declining as well, yes, in some aspects. I wasn't doing great, in general. My occasional lumbar and ankle pains due to prolonged sleeping on an inclined and wooden couch, became more painful and its frequencies, in shorter intervals. My eyes, thanks to long hours of exposure to white paper, lit in close proximity by an emergency lamp, were reasonably sored and tired. But just as concerning, were my hands. Especially my left, drawing hand. Since "ergonomic" is the last things to describe my former setup as, due to poor everything, my hand was suffering from pain due to long hours of drawing and being in this uncomfortable position, wherein: my shoulders would tend to hang, and my forearm raised relatively around 75 degrees. It was a steep and unhealthy position for the hands; for the whole body. That's why, in the worst of times, I legitimately thought I might've been on my way to developing Carpal Tunnel Syndrome and end up being less agile with my hands. The pain originated deep in the wrist; there were days when I really needed to minimize the general usage of my left hand. With the most painful episodes and the longest breaks, happening around the final weeks for the submission of entries in the manga competition.

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     Relatively a lot of things were happening at once, and I haven't even mentioned about the struggle I had, concerning what of the 4 stories I came up with, I would push through. You can have more than one entry in the competition; but, one is enough. I felt that each of the stories had their own value, and it kind of felt like having to pick among my children; it seemed impossible. But as time went on, since I was stressing the matter too much, all of them started to bleed out on me. It came to the point where I slowly started seeing the absurdities of the individual plots instead. Having seen both the good and bad aspects of the stories, I finally managed to settle with 1 story. I was on my longest and final break since I suffered the most painful episode of wrist pain as well, when I had to ready myself in "crunching" the manga within the last week of submissions. I had 9 pages to draw for the remaining 8 days. Prior, I was sketching and warming up for at least an hour or two; by doing so, I noticed and felt the weakness of my hand. It wasn't the usual soreness of a tired hand; I felt the actual lack of strength. Nonetheless, I proceeded.

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     I forgot to mention that, with the intention of creating the best work I could possibly do, I invested my savings on buying a 13-inch drawing tablet. I anticipated that my graphite-based practice at the time won't fit in well alongside works of ink. I've been a pencil guy for the longest time; I rarely preferred any other medium. Additionally, I have 'cold hands' or 'sweaty hands'. It is a real bother. To share a little side story, once when I was little, I admired our eldest brother because whenever he drew, his hands were always dripping with sweat. I thought that it was a cool thing and that it only happens whenever you draw. And that the amount of sweat "reflects" the amount of effort being put in. I wonder how, but after that time, I started sweating at the hands as well. I was happy at first, yes, because it was a new experience and made me feel that I was "putting in the effort". But now, I surely miss the days when I had 'normal and dry' hands.. I did not want to send photocopies of a one-shot manga with pages that have smeared edges.

Moving forward, I also considered the potentials that the digital  medium holds. Up until that moment, I had no interest in learning the digital aspect of drawing; an analogue loyalist, I was. Nevertheless, the supreme advantage of being worry-free from my sweaty hands, the advantage of finally being able to lay down it down without ruining the paper, was the dealbreaker. And that advantage still stands tall, to this day.

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     As the hours of the last days finally started ticking, so did my artistic drive had to be at its highest. I am thankful that I managed to keep a very strong mental state throughout that make-or-break of a week. On average, I needed at least 2 or 3 days, to finish a single page back then. The attention I gave for every panel took much of the time. During these early times, "I" was still very much involved in the drawing process. How without "me", this and that detail won't be possible. And that "I" need to be present, so this and that detail would ever happen. Miraculously, during the crucial week, I was seeing only the work. I was looking only at the vision, the "image" itself. I was not pre-occupied with, "this kind of detail would fit here; therefore, ..." "I would try this technique as well...".. For the first time in a while, after spending weeks being "personally involved" with every process, I was only drawing. As much as I am aware that if I don't pull through with a page a day, technically I won't be able to make it, I was relatively composed and focused on drawing. It might be that the pain in my hands also preoccupied me to some extent; but really, it was more of because the "gesture" or the "existence" of the drawings were happening in my mind with much clarity, that I did not had to be rigorous with my hands before I could feel them. I managed to finish a page and to sketch the layout for the next, within a day. Even though I had to take a break on the second to the last day because of the unbearable pain, who knows how but the one-shot pulled it through.

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     I successfully submitted my entry, and the half a year of waiting for results began. As I was thinking about what stories would be interesting, and as I continued reflecting back on the experience even weeks later, I observed that the stories I only managed to "come up with", were all based on memories. Most of the stories were memories I shared with dear friends, back in high school.. Another is about an unrequited love (waahh)... They were all based on and limited by the extent of my memories.

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     I wonder at what point in my life did I first start thinking about it, but I do know it was very early on; the thought of one day producing a piece of work about my life. The most ideal approach I currently know of, is to create a picture book. Since I would like to tell a lot with words, and also like drawing, I thought about inserting illustrations here and there, all the while writing about my life story. With this work about "me", I intend to pour in all the memories I am still capable of recalling.. Whenever I recall and share a memory with others, they tend to be surprised that I could still remember anything at the mentioned point of time. Such as in nursery. Even now, I could still remember the interior of the very first classroom I called "my classroom", how we sang about what kind of weather we have outside that day, only for our teacher to pull the curtains and look outside towards the concrete walls of the school; how I was never allowed to participate at our school's "summer activity", the only time when we could play in the big inflatable pool owned by the school. How I was publicly humiliated during prep (preparatory) in front of my classmates, when our class adviser pulled down my shorts while I was standing in front of everyone; maybe she thought it was funny, I don't know; how I got spat on the head by the class bully I always stood up against, during 1st grade. How when I jumped off of a 12-feet high stack of rubber mats after getting reprimanded, and to then end up not being able to breath for around half a minute. I don't know if my tender lungs caved in back then, after I went for the concrete, straight down.. I intend to tell these kinds of memories about my life, and later on, also about the lessons I learned along the way. Nevertheless, I have always been aware that for me to be able to do so, it would take make at least two or three years to complete. Which, even to me right now, is still unthinkable.. Given the extent of my memory, I think I could end up with a fairly thick book. I also hope to create this life work before the memories start to fade.

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     As much as I could recall my past in good detail, it is a tall order for me to create a "story". I thought hard about the plots and whatnots, and gave them a breather whenever there was too much tension. And as I tried to empty myself of the same and of other elements, reflecting only upon the core purpose - in the case of the competition, is to provoke one of the three emotions they laid out as the prompts - which I primarily want to convey, I ended up thinking about my own experiences, my own life; moments in my life where I felt x emotion. With no conscious efforts, I ended up recalling memories about my friends when I was trying to think about "a story that would make the reader smile". Thought about the memories of my unrequited love while I was trying to think about "a story about love".. I wonder if maybe I am just too grounded upon keeping things "real", that I ended up closing out other possible events; that any story thereafter had to abide with my life experiences as the standard. I believe my personality also played a role in my storywriting process, in the sense that: I find being imaginative not a good thing. In the very specific sense that, in being imaginative, there lies the possibility of twisting your perception of reality, if you dive into it too much. I guess am scared of something like that, then? I guess I'm scared of not being able to see what is in front of me for what it is? For all intents and purposes, we can say that I am making a big deal out of the concept of imagination for the sake of storywriting. But maybe, I simply could not (yet?) see myself engaging with imaginative thoughts, without them "to have happened" in my life. How I could not see myself being imaginative and telling a story which events do not parallel my life, all the while not ending up imagining and distorting my perception of day-to-day reality and misunderstand some things for something else.

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     With how my storywriting ended up being limited by my personal experiences, by my memories, more than asking the question, "just how much life experience do I need to have before I could tell a good story, then?", I tried thinking about my general approach in storywriting altogether. Before, much of the work, much of the thinking, was "done by me". Majority of the stories I was writing, of the pieces I was drawing, were done "by me". "By Carl". And with that; as much as approaching something in that mindset gives much credit to me as the "creator", it tragically becomes "a piece done by Carl", instead of simply being the work itself. It incapacitated me from being able to explore ideas with much flexibility. Much weight, much purpose, is already weighing down the pencil before I could even draw a line. Before I could even make a mark. Since, "Carl" has to put hatching here, "Carl" has to apply screen tone there, "Carl" has to.. Carl had so much to do. He had so much to do, that the thought of each process became the main concerns; his perfectionism distracted him enough that, he was barely seeing just how good or bad the work he is doing, actually is.. And the wisdom I came across back then, is one of the values I intend to carry on for a lifetime.

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