Qwertyman for Monday, March 2, 2026
I WAS asked by the National Book Development Board to give brief remarks last week at the media launch of this year’s Philippine Book Fair, which will take place from March 12 to 15 at the SM Megamall’s Megatrade Hall. I spoke alongside publishing stalwart Atty. Dominador Buhain of Rex Book Store, who laid out a legislative road map for the book industry in the Philippines.
For my part, I addressed myself to the young Filipino writer, speaking as a senior often accused of being a capo in our so-called “literary Mafia”—my tongue-in-cheek acceptance of which has been taken in dead seriousness by some parties intent on proving that a conspiracy exists out there to rob of them of their literary fame and fortune.
It was a happy coincidence that we were launching the PBF on the 40th anniversary of EDSA 1, because it provided a natural frame within which to appreciate the growth and progress of Philippine writing and publishing, from martial law to where we are today.
Forty years ago, in 1986, I had exactly one book, my first collection of stories. Today I can count more than 45, both fiction and nonfiction, so I guess I’ve been pretty busy (in fact I have another book deadline to meet over the weekend, after I turn in this column). But what many people don’t know is that it took me about a decade to come up with that first book, which was launched in December 1984, and I might have waited longer had it not been for a bet I had made with a dear friend, the late playwright Bienvenido “Boy” Noriega, that we would both come out with our first books by our 30th year (we did).
Having dropped out of college as a student activist after my freshman year, I had very little literary training beyond my own reading. I knew no one and no one knew me; no literary network, no doting mentor or sponsor. I sent out stories to the very few publications open under martial law, like Focus and the Manila Review. I joined all the literary competitions in sight, and lost as many times as I won. I never attended the UP Writers Workshop as a fellow, although I did get invited to the Silliman Writers Workshop in 1981 after the Tiempos came across a published story of mine, after which I felt fired up enough to resume my studies in UP and graduate with my AB in 1984 at age 30.
My biggest stroke of luck was having a friend from martial-law prison, Raffy Benitez (who would found the Erehwon Arts Center), who ran a small printing press in Quezon City, and who offered to publish my first book from the scrap paper left over at his press. And so Oldtimer and Other Stories (Asphodel Books, 1984) was born. We had no marketing, no bookstore access. Somehow, the books got sold.
I told this story—which wasn’t mine alone, but my generation’s—to emphasize that there has never been a better time for Philippine writing and publishing than the present. The PBF, now on its fourth year, is the best proof that hundreds of publishers exist out there for all manner of material, from ghost stories, romances, and comic books to big novels, biographies, and collections of essays. Add to that the support network that writers get from writers’ workshops, writing programs, book festivals like the PBF and Frankfurt, literary contests, and of course social media, print-on-demand, and online marketing.
What every writer needs to do to get published is what all writers have done from the very beginning: persevere, get those words on the page, and find a publisher (who will also hopefully provide good editing and marketing).
There are, of course, writers who believe that “gatekeepers” like me (professors, editors, publishers, reviewers, etc.) merely stand in the way and spoil what should be a great literary experience accessible to everyone. To them I say that if you want complete control over your work and not have to engage in mainstream publishing, you can always publish yourself online, for free, without having to worry about contracts, royalties, launches, and such.
Otherwise, if you want your book published and put out there, do your homework, find a publisher or agent, and prepare to compromise and negotiate. At its core, publishing remains a business, which has both its good and bad aspects, so learn to navigate the territory, because for the professional writer, it doesn’t end with that final period on the screen—you’re just halfway to your reader. If you think this is too sordid for you, too much of a sellout, then stay away and again, publish yourself (or look for an academic publisher, if your book is worthy enough) and be happy with your reading circle Contrariness can be a virtue; just don’t preach like you’re the only virtuous soul left on the planet.
I may sound like another hard-hearted Boomer, but I won’t echo what one senator said about Gen Z’ers being “weak”; they just deal differently with their realities. Still, there are realities that cut across generations. No one in the world owes you a reading, a publishing contract, a positive review, a spot on the syllabus, and a fistful of money. The demands that matter most are those you make on yourself. Sure, as in any business, contacts and networks count in publishing—but only to a point; again as in any business, no publisher will invest in something too poorly conceived or executed to connect with an audience.
Just write, and don’t let yourself get too distracted by the politics of writing or even of everyday life. If you believe strongly enough, the politics will find its way into your poem or story in the best ways possible—organically, without the shrillness or snarkiness of those who can’t make themselves heard otherwise. If it resonates with others, it will find its way to publication. The usual critics will pile on me for this, but I think there’s too much noise, too much drama, too much flag-waving out there; indulge in it if you will, but I’m too old to care, and I’d rather hole up in my home office with a cup of coffee and peck away at my next novel than prove that I’m more, uhm, Polynesian than thou.
Write your heart out, but with craft and composure; write something moving and memorable, and get that book out with your name on the spine. Me, I’ll be at the PBF to sign books all day on March 15.
Pinoy Penman 3.0 