I was invited by our theater group back in college to facilitate a playwriting workshop. Apparently, this year’s artistic director waned to revive the writer’s pool, which has long been gone after I graduated. I thought her intention was great, so I began referring her to other co-members long graduated who also have the knack for creative writing. After several calls, and SMS, the three of us alumnis met at a mall to discuss about the upcoming workshop.
They are Paulie and Millet. Paulie is a flamboyant province lass who currently works in a church organization. He claims that the Philippine Catholic Church is littered with species of our own kind, some are out while some would rather wait for a media scandal for them to get out. He’s a journalism graduate and is an expert in writing non-fiction essays. During our meeting he wanted to create separate workshops where each of us will facilitate. I thought that was cool.
Millet, meanwhile, works as a marketing officer for high-end cooking wares. Her tiny and waif frame should not be underestimated as she had facilitated fiction writing workshops before during college. She suggested to create a four-day workshop instead of cramming all our teachings in just one day. Although time-consuming, I think it’s for the benefit of our org.
During the meeting we were baffled by the fact that we were not being updated by the org’s current officers if the workshop will happen as scheduled. We called several numbers, until Millet contacted this year’s artistic director, Jade. She told us that the workshop was moved to November because they are focused in producing a stage production on September. They expect 50 members to attend the workshop.
I asked Jade how many writers remained in the organization, she said, “Just one.”
I was shocked. From 6 apprentice writers, only one stayed in the organization. As Millet ended the call, I could not help but scream for all the mallers to hear: “We writers are a dying breed.”