The Glory of the Byline

Nothing beats seeing your name on printed, if not published sheets. And since I’m on a scanning streak I’m taking this space to share some print materials wherein I experienced the glory of the so-called byline.

The first time I got published was, believe it or not, in Cosmopolitan in their June 2002 issue. I sent them one of those feedback letters which ultimately rave about how their magazine is a gift from God. My ulterior motive in kissing their Cosmo ass was the Canon camera they were giving away to the letter of the month. I didn’t win the camera but I did get published and, boy, did it feel great!



I’m not sure if the next two publication of sort should count but I’m including them anyway. They are the playbill for the first and second staging of “The Juggler,” a play by Palanca Winner, Layeta Bucoy which the Comm. Arts Students staged in 2003 and 2004. I opt to preserve them here in case I lose my copies.





In 2003, we published a magazine as our final project in my Newspaper Workshop class . It’s my first shot at really writing a whole piece or two and seeing these “babies” in print.





Then there’s my first Youngblood piece which came out October 31, 2004 which was later followed by my second YB baby which came out December 15, 2007. Both articles that were printed at two different issues of the Philippine Daily Inquirer will forever be an honor, something at the top of my life’s bests list.






Then a week ago, I was there in the launching of the book containing the works of my students which I co-edited with other GIFT-Writing instructors. Needless to say, I am proud of this book!



It’s a bit difficult for me to understand why anyone will question my obsession with getting published. For the possibility that an entity would wonder what the deal is with the byline thing, here’s what I have to say: It has little to do with the obvious ego boosting reasons. Getting published affirms that I make sense, that I amount to something that’s why someone was bold enough to save a space in their precious sheets for me. Seeing me on printed materials proves that I existed, not just to the people who know me but to those who were reached by the materials in circulation. Somehow I get to live not just where I am standing but also to where I am heard (or read).

It really is close to Descartes’ idea on existentialism. And if I may speak along what he once said to punctuate my point about being published, I’d say, “I see my name, therefore I exist.”