INTRODUCTION by Gil De Palma

INTRODUCTION by Gil De Palma May 20, 2006

Posted by taekwondoggs in Uncategorized.
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It is odd, but I am still there.

It is late afternoon after school and with intense curiosity I am standing outside our Fourth Grade classroom, secretly watching my mother talk to my teacher. Everything seems to come to a standstill. The moment’s panic is tugging at me.

(Why the summons?)

I can see tears well up in Mama’s eyes before finally racing down her cheeks.

Although my teacher has her back toward me, I can hear her sigh.

(What have I done?)

That was the time I touched the magic.

–Touched.

–With words.

Once upon a time

I wrote my first short story as a composition writing assignment back in Grade School. It was about a boy who gave up his life, believing that dying would extend the life of his sick mother.

Melancholic story

Of love; of innocence; of courage; of loss

–some stuff I remembered writing without thinking.

(so I thought it was nothing special really)

Then, my teacher

Then, my teacher showed it to Mama.

–She read it.

–And she cried.

But

But she beamed

with pride

when my teacher

praised the work.

I don’t think I ever understood the power of words until that moment.

It was the magic of storytelling. The power to show audiences an experience they’ve had, an experience they’d like to have, or even a secret fantasy. The power to stir emotions in them and make them laugh, cry, or scream in terror as they identify with the characters and situations. It was the emotional magic to connect to the heart, the birthplace of all stories.

–Magic.

For some reason

(maybe it might obscure the road to Med School in the future?)

For some reason we never talked about it

but that moment

had become a precious part of my life. Some quite indelible mark was set on me. (But I guess I really honed my storytelling as a teenager babysitting my siblings. Tired of their storybooks, they would demand “new stuff” all the time. I must have told them dozens of my own short stories–sometimes with illustrations–including sequels and spin-offs.)

From that time on, I always felt within myself a mysterious influence at work whenever I write.

–What a vicious influence it had.

viciousVICIOUSvicious

VICIOUSviciousvicious

viciousviciousVICIOUS

INDEED!

An eternity later

Although I had given up creative writing to take up Psychology at the University of the Philippines as a preparatory course for Med School, I found myself in 1995 at the helm of my own comics company, Camp Comics, experiencing a tremendous dose of déjà vu as I created the superhero pack TAEKWONDOGGS.

It felt like writing my first short story in grade school again.

The story was about four Earthling kids wearing dog costume who irreversibly received extra-terrestrial super powers intended for real dogs. They had to master their unwieldy powers, comprehend the dog pack instinct, harness their own skills and abilities, and risk their lives to save the world from an impending alien invasion.

The collector’s edition book KICK OF THE TAEKWONDOGGS was an instant hit. More than I ever expected.

–Copies were sold out in bookstores and comic shops.

–I got offers from both local and international companies. Sponsorships. Comic distribution deals. Animation. Movies. Licensing and merchandising opportunities.

It was an exciting time

Exciting

–Exiting…

–After a long absence, I found myself

back at home and getting a dose of déjà vu during the last time I visited my mother. This time, I was secretly watching Mama in the living room; she was propped in her favorite rocking chair; looking at our old photographs…

Winsome.

Weakened by a serious heart ailment.

But her eyes

(I couldn’t tell if she was crying)

Yes, her eyes

still glow with—

–love

And

–and dignity.

Mama.

Deep inside, I knew that the only person I would run to for emotional rescue all my life needed it this time and

I WANTED SO MUCH TO

(despite sounding a bit like post-modern mush)

To tell her not to be too disappointed with me for not pursuing a future in Medicine despite my scholarship at the University of the Philippines.

(I wanted so much to tell her I loved her)

To tell her about my trials and triumphs as a writer, filmmaker, and head of my own company while I was still in college.

(I wanted so much to tell her I loved her)

To tell her that although Papa passed away shortly before the publication of the TAEKWONDOGGS, I dedicated it to him. And to her.

(I wanted so much to tell her I loved her)

To tell her that they were both at the heart of my dreams and bound in the very knot of it

–I wanted so much to tell her I was sorry for everything…

Sorry.

But pains and sorrows and regrets enough to last several lifetimes seemed to have made a rendezvous in me that day. My guilt for letting them down was so impressive that I was forever conscious of falling short of their expectations, and any success would jar somewhat.

It may all seem absurd, but in a distraught heart, absurd could breed a bastard brood of restiveness.

–It could create distance.

A smile away…

A small talk away…

chasm

away.

I wanted so much to read a book and watch a movie with her, just like we used to when I was a boy…

But I could only look at her and miss her at the same time.

I could only cry. Secretly.

Then, Mama

Then Mama said that she hoped to read my first novel and watch my first full-length movie. The TAEKWONDOGGS, maybe.

A smoky air of redemptive possibility swirled

Through my mind

My heart

My soul

And yet

And yet it was tinged with goodbye.

And I saw my fear confirmed and my expectations damned. She joined Papa in heaven while I was still writing my novel and screenplay.

(It was maddening to hold the stuff of magic in my hand, and forever lose the person I intended to give it to.)

And

stopped

writing.

I accused it of inscrutably inflicting on me

a pain of a beastly and sickening kind.

I walked away from the TAEKWONDOGGS in the middle of their adventure. I forced myself not to look back.

And I recited to myself the Should and Could Haves:

I SHOULD HAVE BEEN A DOCTOR NOT A WRITER. I COULD NOT HAVE BROKEN MY PARENTS’ HEARTS. THEY COULD HAVE BEEN PROUD OF ME.

I felt like a lost boy desperately looking for familiar signs on the way back home and finding them all gone.

–Going everywhere.

–Getting nowhere.

Endless.

I cluttered several limbo years with hollow preoccupations and even contemplated on just going to the States and surfing for the rest of my life.

But

As I was trying to get my papers ready, my old briefcase fell open — I found a cherished keepsake: my Mother’s last letter to me. I was transfixed. I tried to shake the memory off but it got me in a tight grip:

Mama was asking me to come home

She was telling me not to give up

Reminding me to pray without ceasing

To follow God’s road for me

As I read her letter again

The last-left defenses in my heart against the bewitching spell that writing casts on me, sank down and vanished.

I found my way back home.

Started

Writing

Again

The dreams and achievements of the past and hopes for the future merged with tons of prayers to sustain my new creative excitement.

By God’s grace, my works have always entered the winners’ circle of every writing competition I ever joined in.

My first screenplay, “Window,” made it to the finals of the 2002 CineManila International Film Festival.

Despite its experimental non-Hollywood format, it was also a semi-finalist in the 2001 The Writer’s Film Project, a Hollywood-based competition sponsored by Chesterfield Film Company and Paramount Pictures.

But it all started with a rough-and-ready first draft that became a semi-finalist in the 1999 Big Australian International Screenplay Competition.

My short screenplay “Moon Dragon” was a finalist in the 2003 Moondance International Film Festival in Hollywood.

And the U.P. National Writers’ Workshop, one of the most prestigious creative writing fellowships in Asia, awarded me with the first ever fellowship for screenplay.

I hope I make my parents proud. How I wish I could hear them say they are also proud of me.

(But some dreams are never meant to be.)

Even just once.

(Never.)

But then again, God has given me a special place and time. One magical afternoon of my youth, when my teacher showed Mama my first short story.

I discovered I never really left that moment…

I could be anywhere in my lifetime, and yet I could always be there…

Now I can see Mama cry.

And smile.

I know she is also proud of me.

My new company, Palmagick Entertainment, has just launched a unique Internet project called “BURNY.” It is an illustrated serial novel and screenplay about a young artist afflicted with chronic Spontaneous Human Combustion who discovers that the flames killing him little by little have miraculous healing powers. He must come to terms with his affliction and face an ancient evil to fulfill the true purpose of his tormented existence.

The main character, Burny Madden, “built” his own Web site

http://www.burning-man.palmagick.com/

and tells “his story” to the world.

He even replies to e-mail messages sent to him.

(Within weeks, Burny’s Web site has become very popular, getting thousands of hits per day from visitors all over the world.)

And now

And now, ten years after I turned my back on the TAEKWONDOGGS, I am going to tell their story again.

It is the most difficult story for me to write

because of the memories.

But I will do my best.

The TAEKWONDOGGS are still waiting for me at their favorite diner, Nerrdoug’s H-H-Hotdogs. Howling. Barking. Growling. Raring to go.

KICKSTORMIN’ ADVENTURES