Wina Puangco-Mutuc

Okay, so today was a really good day for me: I was able to exceed my word quota at work (yes, that’s a thing) and am currently working on a course about Abnormal Psychology which is surprisingly a lot of fun. I quite like reading about dead old men and how they liked playing with their animals. It makes me happy–there’s something nice about knowing what these people did to pass the time. I was also able to hang out with my cousin Zach for lunch–I haven’t properly seen him in years so that was really fun. Bitin, but fun nonetheless.

I’m also very, very happy because Plural Prose Online Journal came out with their maiden issue yesterday! If you guys don’t know what Plural is, it’s a journal dedicated to contemporary prose writing. The journal has a pretty freaking awesome vision. I’m not done reading the issue yet but it’s pretty great so far. The people running it are excellent writers and also really cool people which is why I’m very proud to announce that one of my stories, Driving Lessons is featured in this issue. 🙂 It’s a story about a boy and a girl who go “drunk” driving around Binondo in the late 90s. Anyway. Go give that a download if you want to read it (it’s free). 😀

I was also able to work on some snippets for this story I’m writing that is so fun to write I’m kind of worried about how it’ll turn out. It’s sad that I always seem to equate good work with torture. Why is that? I dunno. But yeah. I’m working on a story and it’s pretty long for something that I would write but I quite like it. I will post it on here (part of it anyway) one of these days. 😀

One of the other things I do for work is make Writing Exercises.  I’m supposed to come up examples to help guide the students through basic creative writing thangs so here’s one I thought I’d share just for kicks because the thought of crying animals makes me laugh.

You say you have cried
every cliche
body of water–
rapids running into
every ocean of despair.
But my darling
(Narcissus)
The only thing
you
have gushed
out of you
is you
could you cry
a whale
gray and hunched over
massive, assailing
the very form
eye
as I
pushed from its corners
elephants roaring always
remembering the dry
broad-backed
desert
when I said
my pain
I meant
my pain:
a living thing.