I never really told anyone how Kim was born. It was one of those ordinary days that looked like nothing major would really happen. Just another plain, ordinary Tuesday that you have to go through as part of the week. My life is predictable. Same old routine that I followed all these years. Nothing surprises me anymore. I saw an email about submitting a short story with a good prize amount for the winner. Normally, I would just flipped over the page but something stopped me. I took a second look and said to myself “Why not?” A million scenes ran over my mind but nothing really caught my attention. The prompts they wanted should cover a lot of areas and one that is significant to the present. So what I immediately thought was that of Mother Nature. Global warming and such. Such a noble idea. I was never a go-getter. Philanthropist-I never had the funds. A loud voice for human rights- I had never, in my life, stood up for any kind of right. Nor am I a philosopher, or an essayist. I had never written anything with human rights in it. All I had were fantasies of my own making, love stories I created with happy-ever-afters, a hero celebrated for his good works- I don’t have anything of value to show to the human race.
My thoughts exactly.
What I am was a struggling nurse surviving challenges in the hospital setting. Working nights for many years, my days were spent sleeping and my nights, awake, battling life and death in its complexities. Yet in my quiet moments, I write. A few words here and there, until I have a poem. And if I get lucky sometimes, I write a short story. Most of the time, it ends with a few words. Oftentimes, I never get to finish them. I knew the endings before I wrote them. The title would always come first. The story unfolds as I write the words. That’s how I write stories.
Kim did not have a title at all. She came out when I was trying to envision a bright world after COVID. COVID dragged out the worst in humanity. One that we feared would happen if we suffered from a world outbreak. No one can truly imagine what occurred during the “Plague” era. When a big population of the world was wiped out but with COVID, it was a wake-call for everyone. Science for all its milestones, has still its limits. It made me want to go back to the past. Just armed with the basics, people did manage to survive. Even without the science.
What had survived all these years?
Tradition? Remembrance? Memories?
Who witnessed life and death through the ages? Aside from books and science?
I wanted something tangible, something alive, something quiet but tall enough to be seen. Loud enough without saying anything. Near enough, that you could see them everywhere.
A living witness to life’s glory and defeat.
A tree.
And so came the birth of a story. Not of Kim yet. I wanted a character that is old and wise, one that is present from the start. Yet because of its constant presence, we ignored its value, because it’s always there. In time, we had forgotten about it. When trouble comes, it is not the first thing that we look for. Yet, it is the first thing we actually see. Because they are always everywhere. So tree it is.
I am a little biased, I must admit. Tolkien’s books upped my imagination about trees to a higher level. But it was my fondness of trees that gave me the urge to make it the main character of my short story. Not of the book yet. As a child with little means, where do I go to play? Outside and I go to the first tree that caught my eye. I climbed it, swung on its branches, get its fruits, used its shade, and hide in it. It is basically there for the taking.
Next comes the human part. I wanted something relatable and common. Like everyday people just trying to get by day by day modern life. What could an ancient, quiet tree offer a mother who had carried the weight of the world on her shoulders yet, hoping her child survives. Still bright and shining, despite how heavy it is. Using only the basics of what life offered from the beginning of the world, to the secret and mystery of the human heart, against the stark and cold reality of the modern world. All the modern technology of science versus the raw, simplicity of Mother Nature. We don’t have to look far for the answer. Our hearts, what’s instilled in there will show us the answer.
Mother Nature.
Human Nature.
Hand in hand, they will find the answers the modern world will never be able to. Together, they are unbeatable.
Everyone can be heroes in my story.
That’s the world that I want to live.
That is the story I want to write.
That is how My Name is Kim came to life.
I did not win. I did not get the award. Yet, somehow, what started as a short story became a book. And it did not end from there. There is a Book 2. And a Book 3. Yes. It is a trilogy. Again, it is unplanned. My journey with Kim could not end with only one book. Kim’s world is wider, richer, bigger than life itself. The name Kim was named after a mother who is widowed now but is currently living her best life yet. Life after seeing her husband battling through cancer, being a mother to her two kids. And even after becoming a widow, life had more surprises saved for her.
Life, for what it took, it also gives.
I am a witness to her story. And since life does go on, there is Book 2 and Book 3.
The trilogy is written out and complete. I pray the legacy of Kim will live through for years to come.
My Name is Kim came out this April. My audience is limited. A part of me wants to go for the easy way. To pay an audience to make good reviews and give all the numbers and the likes for Kim. But my book is not about that, if at some point, someone will read Kim and see the world that she lived in be a reason to give them hope, make them smile, then get up and face the world again, I will give that salute to them. The book had served its purpose.
Let it be the light, when the darkness seems too vast, too heavy.
Let it find you.