PETER SOLIS NERY ILONGGO ICON( OCLAST)
THE poem above, titled “If the Comma Were a Color,” opens “Punctuation,” author Peter Solis Nery’s collection of Englishlanguage poetry for children that not only won him the top prize in its category in the 2012 Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for Literat
If the comma were a color, I bet it would be green Like growing grass Or sprouting leaves, Or rolling hills, Or the Sierra Madre Mountain range, Because commas Make sentences grow, And grow, And grow.
The poem may also very well describe the 43-year-old Nery’s remarkable writing career: flourishing, always expanding, seemingly limitless. Consider: He writes in three genres—poetry, fiction, drama—and in three languages (his native Hiligaynon, spoken mainly in Western Visayas; Filipino; and English). He has also branched out into filmmaking; his first full-length feature,
Gugma sa Panahon sang Bakunawa (Love in the Time of the Bacunaua), was shown recently in his home province of Iloilo and is expected to be screened in other areas.
Impressive as these feats are, what is even more so is the fact Nery accomplished these while working as an orthopedic nurse at the White Medical Memorial Center in Los Angeles, California, where he has lived since 2006. Even his colleagues in the medical profession rewarded his work with the Daisy Award for Extraordinary Nurses, given to him in 2008 by the hospital and the Daisy Foundation, which seeks to eliminate diseases attacking the immune system.
But despite the honors, Nery remains a rather obscure figure outside of Iloilo and among members of the Manila-centric literary community. Not too many people beyond Western Visayas know of his long-cultivated reputation as a boundary-pushing and flamboyant scribe with a sharp mind and a sharper tongue, as previously published articles on him show. In a country where most creative writers are sorely underappreciated, the persistent lack of attention on Nery and his growing body of work seems almost criminal. In an interview with the
Nery discussed his induction into the Palanca Hall of Fame, his winning entries this year, Hiligaynon literature, his role and the challenges he faces as a creative writer, and his budding filmmaking career.
Sunday Times Magazine (STM): How long have you aspired to be in the Palanca Hall of Fame? What does your inclusion in the elite roster mean to you?
Peter Solis Nery (PSN): I started dreaming of the Hall of Fame when I [started] getting consecutive wins. And [when I won first prize] for the English fulllength play (“The Passion of Jovita Fuentes” in 2008), I thought: “Maybe I can do this.” [I also thought that] if I am inducted into the Hall of Fame, I would do something to help Hiligaynon literature. So I was thinking of establishing a foundation for Hiligaynon literature. When I came home this year, I [started laying] the groundwork for [it].
STM: What inspired you to write “Punctuation”?
PSN: Last year, I [won second prize] for English poetry for children. The collection is called “The Shape of Happiness.” [In it,] I played with colors and shapes: “If friendship is a color, what color would it be? If happiness is a shape, what [would] it be?” So this year, I just continued that train of thought. I thought: “[Maybe it should be] writing and about the art of writing, so let’s do punctuation for kids!” I actually studied a little about color theories and all that, so for “Punctuation,” it was just playing with the colors of the punctuations and their shapes.
STM: And “Sa Mundo ng mga Kulisap (In the World of Insects)”?
PSN: I think the biggest conceit in the Filipino collection is having two voices. I was pretty entertained by what they do during the Palanca Awards, when you actually hear the poems [being] delivered, and I’ve always seen the poetry being delivered by a single person. If they can have two [people]—a boy and a girl—[reading the poems], I think that would be interesting. I started with one poem about the firefly, and from there I [thought]: “Maybe I should limit it to the world of insects.” Kids love insects, like grasshoppers and ants.
STM: Do you still plan to join the Palanca competition in the future?
PSN: If I find very good materials that I think should be out there, I wouldn’t stop myself from joining. If they (Carlos Palanca Foundation) want to stop me, they have to create another rule. But I’m not going to do what I did in the last three years, which was crazy, like making a career [out] of it, like joining as [many] categories as I can to get into the Hall of Fame. The pressure is off to write for the Palanca.
STM: You write in three languages. Is there a particular mindset you adopt when you write in any of these languages? How does Hiligaynon compare with English, for example?
PSN: With Hiligaynon, you cannot [be] very vulgar. Ilonggo readers or speakers of the language are very conservative. But with English, you’re exposed to the works of other people, like [those of] vulgar writers in the US and all that—there is nothing that shocks anymore. Although I still write a little conservatively in Hiligaynon, I am also trying to push it.
STM: Three of your first-prize wins were for Hiligaynon short stories (“Lirio,” 1998; “Candido,” 2007; “Donato Bugtot,” 2011). Are there many writers writing in the language? What do they usually write about?
PSN: There are not many writers writing in Hiligaynon. The more popular ones, they go [for] crime stories in newspapers because those sell. I’ve seen some stories in Hiligaynon magazines, for example, and these are so different from the Palanca-winning works. I think that the more popular/komiks- type [stories]—their characters are more global, and their concerns are more global. The Palanca winners? I feel that they really don’t connect with the world. Like they make it so local that they become very unique. I would look at them as period pieces. They’re so stylized—the construction, the language. Most of them talk about the exotic life in the rural [areas] . . . I think that the [Palanca] favorites are those that put in long research, [that are set in] the past . . . more historical [in] feel, more researched, more “worked.”
STM: What do you aim for as a writer in Hiligaynon?
PSN: I want to write [in] Hiligaynon with a more global perspective. I’m not just writing about people from an island in the Visayas; I’m talking about people from the place who are [living] the migrant worker experience. I want my characters to be more global and more open, and I think that’s the way to go.
STM: Why do you write? What drives you as a writer?
PSN: I’m vain! I want my name in print! But that being out of the way, there’s really a joy in writing, for me. In writing, I’m able to clarify so many things. If you look at the written sentence, it always feels to me like [it’s] all scrambled and [it’s] in this one tiny blank thing. And then you begin to write them, you [feel] like [stretching] them so you can actually understand and see them, and it becomes very clear to you.
My initial drive to write is basically for name preservation. There are three ways to preserve your name: have kids, plant trees, and write books. Leaving something, doing something meaningful in this planet, leaving your mark. It’s all about leaving your mark. If you get serious about that, then you’ll see that I’m not just out there for fame, it’s actually I want to leave a mark. But can you really leave a mark without being famous?
STM: What are the challenges you face as a writer?
PSN: The biggest challenge is finding time to write! I work a 12-hour shift, and it’s a night shift. But there are downtimes [at] work, [and] that’s [when] I ruminate on ideas. I have a writer’s journal where I could write down ideas, jot down things that I like to think about more when I have days off.
STM: You often present yourself as a selfconfident writer. What fuels this selfconfidence?
PSN: I’m actually very insecure, I swear! I’m a very insecure writer, because most of the writers in the Philippines are actually in the academe. They actually [have] MFAs (master of fine arts) and Ph.D’s in writing. I know some people here who probably attended all the workshops in the Philippines. I did a couple of workshops, but I felt really out of place.
STM: Speaking of Filipino writers, is there any you admire or identify with?
PSN: In that sense, I’m illiterate, because I really don’t read a lot of Filipino authors. [No Filipino author] really strikes me as someone whose sensibility is closer to mine. I think I’ve read [an F.] Sionil [José], [NVM] Gonzalez, [Bienvenido] Santos . . . I can’t get through a [Gregorio] Brillantes story. He enjoys [using] words that [make me look them up in] the dictionary. It might be beautiful for people who know the language very well.
STM: You recently released your fulllength feature film, Gugma sa Panahon sang
Bakunawa. How would you describe yourself as a budding moviemaker? What is the major difference between the writing and filmmaking processes for you?
PSN: I think I’m just a born storyteller. The problem with making movies is that you have to collaborate, and that’s the big difference. I have to trust my actors, my directors of photography. With writing, you write something, you’re on your own, it’s a solitary exercise. At certain stages, I turn to select figures for critique. But when you’re making a movie, you have to respect other people’s time, money and their resources. In my first venture, I had to be director, writer, and producer, but I may not be lucky next time if there’s going to be a producer who would expect certain things [and] I don’t know if I would be very willing to compromise my vision. But I enjoy making films, because I think most writers would like their stories told on the big screen. I think it’s the secret dream of anyone who wants to tell a story.