Scribblory Writers Library
Your virtual library of true stories has come to this site!
Scribblory Writers Library shelters short true-to-life stories written by the memoirists of Scribblory Writers Group. This virtual library started in 2020, at the outset of COVID-19 pandemic. While the world was losing many lives, we held our pens and preserved life stories.
Are the write-ups here too few to quell the thirst of the reader in you? Head out to our old site and read some more.
Category: Writing
National Literature Month
Sa Likod Ng Mga Titik
Written by Sierra Marie Santos-Aycardo
April 20, 2025
“Kapag nagsusulat ako, pakiramdam ko ay isang taong walang braso’t paa na may krayola sa bibig.” — Kurt Vonnegut
Ang panulat para sa akin ay hindi lamang isang simpleng kasangkapan sa paglikha ng mga salita; ito ay isang makapangyarihang sandata na ginagamit upang maipahayag ang pinakamalalim na bahagi ng aking pagkatao. Sa bawat pagsayad ng pluma sa papel, nabubuhay ang mga saloobin, damdamin, at guniguni na matagal nang nakakulong sa katahimikan. Ito ang aking tinig sa panahong hindi kayang sambitin ng aking bibig ang nilalaman ng puso’t isipan.
Sa mundong puno ng ingay at kaguluhan, ang pagsusulat ay tila tahimik na sigaw–isang paanyaya upang marinig ang isang kaluluwang naghahangad ng unawa. Ang bawat tuldok, kuwit, at taludtod ay tila himaymay ng damdaming hindi maipinta ng ordinaryong salita. Sa likod ng bawat akda ay may pusong nanabik, umaasa, at lumalaban. Ang bawat linyang hinabi mula sa puso ay hindi lamang panitikan kundi buhay na salin ng karanasan.
Hindi madaling magsulat; sa pagsisimula ng bawat tula, sanaysay, o kwento, kasabay nito ang takot–takot na baka hindi maunawaan, takot na mabigo, at takot na masaktan. Ngunit sa kabila ng pangambang ito, patuloy na bumubukal ang lakas mula sa mismong akto ng pagsusulat. Ang mga salitang isinusulat ay nagiging sandigan at pananggalang sa hamon ng mundong minsan ay hindi mapagpatawad. Ang panulat–gaano man ito kaliit–ay nagiging sandata laban sa kawalang pag-asa.
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Mahalaga rin ang mga taong naniniwala sa kakayahan ng isang manunulat. Sila ang nagbibigay ng panibagong liwanag sa panahong ang ilaw ng inspirasyon ay unti-unting nauupos. Sa kanilang mga mata, muling nabubuhay ang pagnanais na lumikha, magbahagi, at magpahayag. Dahil sa kanila, ang mga salitang muntik nang kalimutan ay muling binigkas at isinulat upang maging alaala, inspirasyon, at aral sa iba.
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Ang pagsusulat ay higit pa sa gawaing pampalipas-oras. Isa itong buhay na pinipili araw-araw—buhay na puno ng damdamin, laban, at tagumpay. Sa bawat patak ng tinta, isang bagong mundo ang nililikha—isang bagong pag-asa ang binubuo. Ang panulat, sa kabila ng kanyang katahimikan, ay may kapangyarihang magbago ng pananaw, magpagaling ng sugat, at magpaalala ng kahalagahan ng pagiging totoo sa sarili.
Sa huli, ang pagsusulat ay hindi lamang paglalakbay ng salita kundi paglalakbay ng kaluluwa.
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Ang pagsulat ay nagsisilbing tulay ng damdamin at isipan, pangarap, at katotohanan. At sa bawat salitang isinusulat, muling pinatutunayan na ang pinakamahuhusay na kwento ay nanggagaling sa puso ng isang manunulat na patuloy na humahanap, lumilikha, at nagsusulat.
INTERNATIONAL WRITERS' DAY
Love in Simple Words
Written by Alfred Pagunsan Gadayan
March 3, 2025
The very first thing I ever wrote was a poem for my mom when I was probably about eight years old. I remember sitting at my little desk, trying really hard to write something special. I wanted to express how much I loved her, but I didn't know how to put it into words.
I remember staring at the blank page for a long time, feeling frustrated. Then, all of a sudden, the words started to flow. I wrote about how my mom was like a warm blanket on a cold day, how her smile could light up the whole room, and how her hugs were the best in the world. I wrote about how much she meant to me.
The poem was titled, “My Mom”, and it was just a simple poem. It wasn't perfect, but it came from the heart. I remember being so proud of it; I couldn't wait to show it to my mom.
When I gave it to her, her eyes lit up. She hugged me tight and told me how much she loved it. She said it was the sweetest thing she had ever read. I could tell how touched she was. I still have that poem today. It’s tucked away in a little box of memories. When I read it now, I can't help but smile. It's so simple, but it reminds me of how much I loved my mom—and how much she loved me.​
I guess you could say it was the start of my writing journey. It showed me that words can be powerful, and they can express feelings that are hard to say out loud.
Now, I don't write poems very often, but I still try to find ways to express my love and appreciation for my mom. Maybe it's a handwritten note, or a phone call to tell her how much I love her. But, no matter what, it all goes back to that first poem—and the feeling of wanting to express my love for her.
Looking back at that poem, it's a reminder that even the simplest things can have the most profound impact. It was a small gesture, but it made my mom so happy. And it showed me that even when you don't have a lot of experience, it's okay to just try and express yourself. That simple poem helped me discover a love for writing that to this day, is stronger than ever.
NATIONAL HANDWRITING DAY
A Letter to Violet Girl
Written by Jaja Pablico
January 23, 2025
“Okay, class, for your seatwork, write a letter using the following adjectives...”
Miss Mitch, our then professor in Fundamentals of English when we were college freshmen, instructed us as she wrote 19 word descriptions on the glass board—words such as unique, responsible, fearless, and so on.
I chose to write a letter to a close friend, which I remember was part of a writing exercise or seatwork in our English class. We were free to decide whether or not to actually give the letter to the person we wrote to. To my surprise, one of my male classmates handed me his letter after our teacher returned our seatwork. I hadn’t expected to receive a letter from him. Here’s his letter, highlighting the adjectives (in capital letters) our professor gave.
Dear Vince,
Yowh!!! How are you, Violet Girl? I hope you’re in a GOOD condition. I also wish your skin is not turning violet because of your favorite color. Hahaha! I’m just kidding, but seriously, I just want to tell you that you are an INSPIRING person to me, having BEAUTEOUS and CHEERFUL eyes, and also having a FAIR and IMPRESSIVE attitude towards everyone. I know you are an APPROACHABLE person, and that makes you a UNIQUE and RESPONSIBLE friend. That’s the reason why I chose you as the person to whom I am going to send this letter.​
Vince, I know you can be an EXCELLENT friend to me. Having a FEARLESS and BIG heart makes me admire you as a friend. I think, Vince, that you are COURAGEOUS and don’t ARGUE with your friends, as well as not being a QUEENLY person. That might help you have more friends who will treasure you so well and who won’t let you fall into an INDELICATE and FATAL condition. I wish we could be friends forever, FREE from sadness or any problems.
I wish you to stay kind and be who you are, because we like Vince Pablico.
Your caring Friend.
This letter, written on a sheet of yellow paper, is something I hold close to my heart. Every time I read it, I am reminded of my own uniqueness—that makes me feel appreciated—flaws and all. It’s been over 15 years since I last saw the person who wrote this, but deep down, I’m forever grateful that someone like him saw me, valued me, and wanted me as a friend.
inTERNATIONAL LITERACY DAY
keep writing
Written by Vergie Manligas
September 8, 2024
It was 2017 when I had one goal and a dream but was unsure how to go about it.
I stepped into a room full of dreamers like myself. I sat down and was handed a blue notebook and a black pen. It was my first memoir writing workshop. I remember being in awe of the speaker who shared her story and how she came up with her book. She shared that "her grammar sucks," and during that time, my vocabulary was limited. The doubts I had in my mind as well as my fear of being unable to write down the story I brought with me were replaced with confidence—I, too, could write and publish the story of my grandparents.
The learnings I acquired that day and the mentoring I received thereafter helped me publish my first memoir book. As someone who didn't consider herself a writer, it felt surreal to be able to hold a copy of my written words told by my favorite storytellers.
It was that moment of learning that I brought with me whenever I wrote my piece—the joy of being able to share my written works through that one magical moment of not knowing what or where it might lead.
They say that magic happens in the unknown.
Keep writing.
independence day special
Writing FOR FREEDOM
Written by Nichelle Dizon
June 12, 2024
My lolo is Jose Rizal. I'm not joking.
As I think of freedom this June, I am reminded of him. Jose Rizal was a writer and a doctor. I guess it explains why I'm a writer and my brother is a doctor. He has had a huge influence on everyone in the family and my relatives. We idolize him so much. As a young one learning all about him in school, it fascinates me that he's my lolo. Every detail about him interests me.
One time in the past, I vividly recall thinking about him—how he fought up to his death, and how brave he was to do all of it to save our country. What amazes me even more is how he did it with a pen and paper. All I know is that I tilted my head. And whenever I tilt my head, I know within myself that I am going to declare something of importance to me that will change my life and that of others forever. I declared that I wanted to be just like him: a hero, fighting for what is right and simply believing in my heart and my mind—with the knowledge that I have—that I'm going to continue his legacy.
When I was younger, I didn't fully understand Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo. I could not fully understand how these writings could make an impact and deliver his message. As I grew older and became a writer myself, I finally understood how he used writing to save and defend our country and its freedom. And with that, I continue writing. In my own way, I use my voice and my writing to make the impact that this world needs today. I will fight for freedom and exhibit bravery. I will fight until the end. And I know that my Lolo Rizal is proud of me.
NATIONAL LITERATURE MONTH
Finding My Story in a Novel
Written by AnKat Lopez
May 4, 2024
I was a fan of The Last Time I Saw Mother, a book by Arlene J. Chai, a Filipina-Chinese who migrated to Australia, and of Amy Tan's The Joy Luck Club (both the novel and the film).
These two are similar in that women from different generations—mother, daughter, aunt, and cousins—share their stories. Most Filipino and Chinese people value extended family. I appreciated the accounts of the time people lived in fear during the Japanese occupation in WWII. This is more detailed than your average history lesson in school.
In the story of The Last Time I Saw Mother, Caridad was adopted by her aunt and uncle who could not have children because her parents struggled with poverty.
So was I. I can resonate with the story as I was adopted for the same reasons. Mama and Papa were poor back home in the province and had five other kids at the time. The only difference was that my parents did not hide it from me. I knew about it from my early years, when I was around five years old or maybe even younger.
I like how the main character knows both sides of living abroad and growing up in the Philippines. My experiences in the Philippines, the Netherlands, and the US enriched my life in one way or the other.
NATIONAL LITERATURE MONTH
Embracing the Soul of Filipino Literature
Written by Alfred Pagunsan Gadayan
May 4, 2024
As I sit down to reflect on my personal connections to Filipino literature, I am transported back to the vibrant streets of Manila, where the essence of storytelling flows through the veins of the people. Growing up in a Filipino household, I was surrounded by the rich tapestry of Filipino authors and their works that have left an indelible mark on my journey as a writer and storyteller.
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One of the first Filipino authors who resonated with me is Jose Rizal, the National Hero of the Philippines. His novel titled Noli Me Tangere opened my eyes to the harsh realities of colonialism and the fight for independence. Rizal's words were like a beacon of light in the darkness, guiding me toward a deeper understanding of my own identity and history. His courage to speak out against injustice inspired me to use my voice as a tool for change and empowerment.
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Another Filipino author who has left a lasting impact on me is Nick Joaquin, often regarded as one of the greatest Filipino writers of the 20th century. His works, such as The Woman Who Had Two Navels and May Day Eve, delve into the complexities of Filipino society and culture, weaving together the themes of love, identity, and tradition. Joaquin's lyrical prose and vivid imagery have influenced my writing style, urging me to explore the depths of human emotions and experiences.
As I delved deeper into Filipino literature, I discovered the works of F. Sionil Jose, a prolific writer known for his social realist novels that tackle the issues of poverty, corruption, and social injustice. Jose's novel titled The Pretenders struck a chord within me, highlighting the struggles of the marginalized and the quest for social change. His unflinching portrayal of the harsh realities of Filipino society pushed me to confront uncomfortable truths and advocate for a more just and equitable world through my writing.
The poetry of Bienvenido Lumbera, a National Artist for Literature in the Philippines, also left a profound impact on me. His verses, filled with poignant imagery and profound insights, spoke to the depths of my soul and stirred my passion for poetry. Lumbera's exploration of Filipino identity and history through his poetry inspired me to delve into my cultural heritage and express my innermost thoughts and emotions through the power of words.
As I navigate my journey as a writer and storyteller, I carry with me the wisdom and inspiration of these Filipino authors and their works. Their stories have become a part of my narrative, shaping the way I view the world and the stories I choose to tell. Through their words, I have learned the importance of authenticity, empathy, and resilience in the face of adversity.
Filipino literature is not just a collection of stories; it is a reflection of the Filipino soul—a tapestry of voices that resonate with the struggles and triumphs of the Filipino people. As I continue to walk the path of storytelling, I am grateful for the guiding light of these literary giants who have paved the way for me to embrace the soul of Filipino literature and share its beauty with the world.
The Future of Memoir Writing in the AI Era and Its Implications for Storytelling and Human Expression
Written by Lewy Tumbaga
January 31, 2024
“You are not a human being in search of a spiritual experience. You are a spiritual being immersed in a human experience.” – Fr. Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
Fr. Pierre Teilhard de Chardin must be right. We are more of a spiritual being. Isn’t it a fact that we came from a spiritual God? If so, then it is right to say that when we came into this world, we were first non-matter, hence unformed. As the years passed by, we became part of somebody else’s experience—the same way that others became part of ours.
Such relational involvement with each other is the source of an experience that different stories are created. Those stories are a matter of facts that form the person’s value and character. That will dignify or disgrace the person who, from a spiritual being, would most likely transform into that human being.
Oftentimes a tailspin of chaos befalls a man. Then the search for a spiritual experience is good if he desires to find God. For sure, he will find Him since He is the first cause, yet human beings’ inclinations due to concupiscence will bring them to a desire that is unknowingly offensive to God. Misery sets in.
Why is that so? Because offending the one who loves Himself creates havoc in our being, not because God wants it that way. God’s primal gift to us is the freewill. It is contradictory to God’s nature if He manipulates or turns around events that have obvious consequences from the choices we made. However painful or traumatic misery is, such experience brings life lessons. It is the same with the profound peace and joy for every right and good choices we make. In both situations and conditions, man needs to narrate for his next generation to learn from.
Now, how will an artificial intelligence be able to animate these experiences and feelings? It may be able to narrate in chronology, but no matter how good and complicated the algorithm of this man-made intelligence is, it will never articulate how the reader should be able to be in the zone of the writer. It only happens when the author or the writer of the story will be able to truthfully write the event without pretension and not hiding behind the well-crafted lines. Also, the authenticity of a written story is tested in the brokenness of the word or phrase, in the inaccuracy of the tenses, and in the doubt in using the correct word.
Most readers of memoirs may be considered literary-gifted because of the many written experiences or stories they’ve read. I believe that they are not technocrats. They are always in search of adventures in every story or book they read to find hidden meanings in the irregularities of thoughts of the characters and not to be bothered by the inconsistencies of style of the writer. It is the human touch that beholden the reader and the reality of life in every ending of a story.
Writing: An Extension of Me
Written by AnKat
July 26, 2020
When I was young, I made a simple comic-book type of story in a drawing book. In my teens, I kept a diary. My family was based overseas (the Netherlands) at some point, so I documented our life there for my friends through snail mail.
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It was the beginning of Junior High when teachers and classmates saw my talent in writing. They encouraged me. This continued throughout High School back in the Philippines. In college, I started blogging stories and my adventures of, yet again, living in another country—Texas and California, USA. There, I would share my insights with my support group.
Writing, to me, was a lifesaver. Not only that, but it also brought me inner healing. I can say that it has been part of my life. Even when I tried to abandon it, it would always manage to come back to me somehow.
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There came a point when I found writing to be overwhelming, yet at the same time, there was an urge to keep going. Initially, it was just for private reasons—for selected family and friends. But eventually, writing became (and now is) a part of my life, an extension of me.
A Writer's Mirror
Written by Sisang Batute
July 23, 2020
Why do I write?
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The lack of someone to talk to. Or should I say the lack of someone I can talk to about topics I want to talk about?
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I am from a faraway barrio where little minds can only cater to the daily humdrum of life. Only the whos and the whats are the initiators of a conversation. I do not expect more because the how-tos and the whys of life in our barrio are never answerable, not when one can merely feed a family of more than five. Our only source of riches is the family's capability to produce more little ones who will follow in the footsteps of their old folk. I grew up looking for something that is beyond our barrio. And yes, I grew up confused and misplaced.
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I learned to read late. Even if I passed my first year in grade school, I did not read well compared to my classmates. Maybe, it was because of a lack of materials. But when I finally got the confidence to read and to comprehend every word, there was no stopping me from reading--especially when I learned how to use my English-Tagalog Dictionary that my mother bought me. I remember those days in the 80s, when our barrio did not have electricity yet. I would read under the glare of a gasera (gas lamp). Whenever I woke up in the morning, I would excitedly pick on my nose for treasure while I continued reading where I left the night before.
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I started to write when I was in Grade 4, when all my barrio childhood friends totally abandoned me. Maybe they saw me as crazy with my unheard-of dreams and ideas. Before I learned of Anne Frank's diary, I already had been writing mine without knowing that it was a so-called diary. All I knew then was that I could clearly talk to myself if I would write my thoughts and read aloud them back to myself. A lot of times, I would read them in front of the mirror—with emotions. No, I never intended or dreamed of becoming an actress. It was just that I wanted to animate the words I wrote, talking to myself as good as if I was talking to another person. Do you think I was indeed crazy?
What I wrote then was all fresh from what was within a child's tiny world of curiosity. If only I saved those scribblings of my past, especially those answers to my questions of whys and hows when I was little—maybe, I could learn from them once again . . .
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My world today has become complicated.
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I want to admit that I have narcissistic tendencies after my peculiarity when I was a young writer. Why? When I was a child, I did not have the concept of an audience. I only freely expressed what was in me. I would write without thinking of offending others or of how I could impress someone. Maybe, this is one of the reasons I become lazy when an idea hits me. It is not because I am not inspired to write; I admit that it is plain and simple laziness and pride.
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But whatever thoughts I have about my attitude towards writing, this is the only thing I am sure of—writing balances my life. It gives me direction because I clearly see myself when I put my thoughts and emotions into written words. Spoken words are good, but the tendencies of our mind to change are part of its consistencies.
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There was a time when I totally abandoned writing—when the adulting world consumed my whole being. It was when my world was chaotic, my thoughts muddled with others' own thoughts about me. It was the time when I forgot about my only solace—to put words to my thoughts and my emotions, a way for me to see myself from the outside.
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When I started to go back to trusting the written words, forming their phrases according to their own pace, only then did I resurface from the suffocating world of vanity and pride.
Why I Write
Written by Sophia Ruth
July 21, 2020
There are lots of things in life that we do without asking ourselves the reason why. But I guess, if you'd do something that would require a considerable amount of your time, then you might ask yourself why.
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So why do I write?
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To be honest, I find the question really difficult to answer if the goal is to come up with a tear-jerking, inspirational, 'Miss Universe' sort of an answer.
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I am no writer by profession. In fact, I only got introduced to writing just a bit recently, which happened out of a grave necessity to express myself freely and without judgment.
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Writing is every ink of me bleeding out on paper. Every word, every comma, every punctuation placed here and there represents my bared soul. And the same could be said for any other writer. A writer's work is one that he can completely own as his and his alone. People may write about the same topics, but no one can tell it the way each one does. The writing voice is just as different and unique as our genetic make-up.
In the same way, the question "Why I Write?" is something as unique to me as it is to anybody else. There is really no generic answer nor a correct one. I couldn't even give you a clear answer for mine, just like how I couldn't explain why I like peanut butter or never ever liked painting.
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I write because it's who I am.