Joey and I are currently in the process of editing and slashing unnecessaries from his first attempt at a novel (which I won't disclose just yet). I find it amusing, and even shocking, at how I keep talking about my story ideas and be able to finish a single one. Well, except when it's on a deadline and paid for. The plots, including their twists and turns, have been outlined in detail in my note book yet I haven't really sat down to make them come full circle.

Now here comes Joey, an IT guy, with absolutely no professional background in writing, with a huge grin and over 100,000 words of modern romance that could rival Summit's bestselling books. I envy him.

I am the type of person who gets all passionate about an activity in its infancy and then immediately move on to another venture without caring to finish what I started. Jill of all trades, mistress of none. Perhaps this explains why, up until today, despite the many types of writing I have been exposed to, I still do not know where my home is.

I read fantasy books by HP Lovecraft and tell myself, "Hey, I could write something this.". But then I start pressing nose on something by Paolo Coelho and change my mind, "This is not bad, either. I should give it a try."

Where is my voice? Almost two years in the business and I haven't come across it still. You would know when it's there, right? Like when you walk around a crowded warehouse of various "goodies", thinking it impossible to find that one perfect thing that would shut all your senses up and place you in a trance. And then your eyes rest upon a shiny trinket all of a sudden, and no matter how your friends cringe at the item, you turn deaf and trudge proudly to the cashier to pay for it despite the cost. That's what I'm looking for. That's what I still haven't found.

I need to discover my niche. Right now, I seem to be good at editing other people's work. I take pride in seeing how a formerly lost character and an incoherent plot shine brightly, consistently, after I tinker with the play of words. There are times I am forced to believe that, maybe, I am a better editor than a creator.

A lot of maybe's. Perhapses. No definite answers. I try to believe that it comes with age, but I can't. I am told constantly that there still are a lot of opportunities for me to find myself and that I shouldn't hurry so much. I am not in hurry. I am just trying to find out where I'm headed before a part of me gives up and retreats.

This is not a complaint, really. It's more of a reflection on what my goals are. Some of my friends would even kill to get to where I am right now. But I do not wish to compare myself with others. My happiness does not reside on the fact that some of them have it worse than me. If that were true, then I would have been content with myself long ago. But what I have is not enough, at least for me, because have not met my destiny face to face.

Similar to seeking that one true love, I am searching for that one breakthrough story that would drive me nuts and have me lock myself up for days until I finish. Angel was right. When that single grand idea pops into my head, I would definitely go ballistic. But until it has decided to introduce itself to me, I will have to keep going... and searching.

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Joey's book hopefully comes out within the year. We're crossing our fingers we get the job done by April, ready for another go with the prospective publishers. It's a story of discovering true love when least expected, losing it, and then finding it again.