At this senior age, I still get excited to attend a writing workshop, to leave home for three days, and to expect no urgent or pressured tasks other than to write, think, and talk about stories.

OMF Literature held its second Author’s Huddle in Tagaytay, a writing workshop and retreat offered as a gift to its potential authors, this time in developing stories for teens. The three-day program was simple: get inspired, share your seed story, immerse yourself in casual conversations with peers, and have time to pray and write. Authors submitted proposals that OMF selected for the retreat and gathering. OMF editors and the marketing team presented the publisher’s mission and vision for teens, as well as the kinds of books needed to meet those goals.

The cool breeze and the calming landscape of Taal certainly helped us, as authors, to slow down and listen, not only to others but also to our own work. We were reminded, as “influencers who inspire,” to take care not to conform to the patterns of this world, that we are crafters of countercultural narratives (Romans 12:2).

How a Writing Retreat Helps Authors Clarify Their Writing Goals

As a solitary pursuit, writing is lonely and isolating. Huddles like this remind us that we’re not alone in our struggles. Conversations with other authors revealed specific “blocks” or “motivations” that allow them to pursue a project. Should a manuscript be abandoned or changed? How should a part or chapter proceed, or be deleted altogether? One isn’t sure about the genre, even though the seed story is there. There are also the truly pragmatic authors who already have a series that will definitely need more time. Nonetheless, every idea begins to formulate, expand, or narrow into narrative trajectories. These conversations reveal the wrestling with self-doubt, or even guilt, after having filed away many story beginnings, with deciding which one to follow through becoming the real problem.

The huddle, as part of the creative process, wouldn’t matter as much without the publisher’s assurance of publication. This offers encouragement that no motivational lecture or intensive writing workshop can replace because it comes from people who appreciate each author’s journey and are willing to see it through from beginning to end.

Why Casual Conversations Often Lead to the Best Story Ideas

The most productive moments of the huddle happened during random talks with fellow writers, whenever and wherever we gathered in the venue. As I talked about my piece with the editor over coffee, I discovered my story and realized how my plot could proceed. In a conversation with an author who is also a writer for television, I affirmed that setting is not merely a backdrop but must also give narrative texture and context. Listening to a young author talk about his story, I realized that, since we’re writing for teenagers, language is not merely a matter of choosing between Filipino, English, or Taglish. Understanding the genre is equally important.

Something unexpected happens in these random talks, unscheduled brainstorming sessions, and spontaneous question-and-answer exchanges. In their writing journeys, these authors have created spaces for possibilities and brought out the story that was hiding all along. Discoveries happened because our minds were free and allowed to roam, our talks were honest and vulnerable, and our interactions were genuinely supportive of one another.

Honest Peer Feedback Makes Stronger Stories

Support and encouragement also mean that, as we read each other’s work, we aren’t afraid to say that “a story arc is not yet clear.” During the sharing sessions, we presented summaries of our projects in progress. We were listening, not yet focusing on the intricacies of craft, but mostly clarifying what each story was all about. It’s not easy to ask this question outside the confines of a trusted writing community. While editors enter the process much later, fellow writers occupy a middle reading phase, where they are able to point out an arc problem. They’ve been there themselves, so they know how vulnerable an unfinished story can feel. Since they study craft and know what it feels like to wrestle with a first or second draft, these conversations remain both sensitive and necessary.

Writers are, by nature, always seeking mentors and lessons about the craft of writing. Inspiring author devotionals are indispensable. But intentional camaraderie creates opportunities for productive, informal discussions about where a story is headed. During shared meals, over coffee, and along leisurely walks, we often learn the most when we realize whether our story is finally coming together or is still out there, waiting to be discovered.

The cool weather in Tagaytay and the scenic view of Taal are blessings, the perks of attending this huddle. But even a modest venue filled with generous conversations will always outshine a luxurious location where meaningful interaction never happens.

Held in Tagaytay, this writing retreat is less about filling a schedule and more about creating space for reflection, honest critique, unexpected inspiration, and friendships that continue long after everyone has returned home.

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will” Romans 12:2 NIV

My Single Name Now in My 60s

I have a single name. My first name, my middle name, and my last name remain singular. If life were to follow a script: master a course, prosper in a career, meet a great man, raise a family, grow old surrounded by a house full of grandchildren, I have completely altered that one, linear path. And now, in my 60s, retired and living at a slower, more random pace, I am writing about what just happened into a monologue life script.

That Life Decade When I Thought I Needed to Fit a Template

In my thirties, I often wondered whether I had missed something important. Society measures a woman’s life through relationships, that is, marriage, children, supporting a husband; and when I sat alone, hurriedly eating fast food in restaurants surrounded by noisy families, I used to feel listless and incomplete, deeply wanting my single name to be overwritten.

In my twenties, I wanted to fit that template. By my thirties, it already felt out of reach. In my forties, it became a quiet longing that surfaced in certain moments. I cannot pinpoint the exact time the shift happened, but at some point, I became fully okay without the template at all. It was not resignation, but contentment, a kind of thanksgiving, and appreciation of the value of my single life.

The Presence of God in Quiet Aloneness

I wonder if being single has made life’s choices more difficult to negotiate. When opportunities came, when directions needed to change, when independence did not always feel easy, I had only myself to answer to. Every choice felt vulnerable, with just me moving through it all.

Where I lived. What I did for work. How I spent my days. How I rebuilt myself after changes and transitions. Every choice, responsible and irresponsible, was made in complete freedom. And often, those around me did not know whether I was facing difficult consequences or celebrating small achievements.

And yet, even when I thought I had to figure everything out on my own, I have never really been without help or without hope. God has always been present, making a way through what felt unclear, difficult, or uncertain. Wisdom has come in ways I often did not expect, gently guiding me through every maze I entered. I can say from my own life that what James writes is true and reliable, that “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him” (James 1:5).

The Good, the Bad, and the Friendships That Lasted

Love simply looks different when you are single. Friendships that have lasted for decades, those few people who have had an inkling of my personal victories and painful seasons, have grounded my understanding of kindness, connection, generosity, and companionship. I know this kind of love to be stable and consistent, carrying me through many stages of life.

At one point, I was a nomadic “ampon,” sleeping over at friends’ houses, and they were always hospitable and generous. In another season, I cried more than once on a friend’s shoulder, burdening her with my struggles, and she even let me into her room, listening as I talked things through.

There was also a time, years ago, when I became almost fixated on a mentor, drawn to her artistry and professionalism in a way that bordered on dependence. She remained patient and accommodating until I recognized my excess and stepped back, humbled.

One friend simply demanded excellence and diligence in everything I did. Her quiet insistence became the push I needed, something only a real friend can give. And finally, I think of a friend who simply gave and gave — cash, clothes, food, and a place to sleep, always present in moments of need, expecting nothing in return.

They were there along the single road, my companions, offering demands, encouragement, and affirmation. In fact, I realized I have never been truly alone.

A New Singular Phase, Flipping a New Page

As a single person in my 60s, I have synchronized myself to no template. Nothing specific nor general appears in the design of my days. Without urgency, I move through this phase of singularity, allowing more room to listen to my body across the time and space of each day.

A long time ago, I felt many absences—the small weight of a child on my lap, tiny sweet voices calling, holding hands with a loved one while walking, parent–child moments in school programs, meetings, and shared milestones.

But today, those absences have softened into spaciousness. This is comfortable and even exciting because I now live with fewer choices. My days unfold in reflective quiet without interruption. I enjoy meals in peace, I live in a secure and safe dwelling that allows for healthy silences, and my time does not demand the presence of others to wake me into a good day.

Every task and activity in this single existence used to be subject to overthinking, shaped by my “creative” imagination. Now I am learning to live into the meaning of our days being “like grass,”[i] and to rest in the knowledge that God knows the exact “number of the strands of my hair.”[ii]

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[i] Psalm 103:15–16; Isaiah 40:6–8; Psalm 90:5–6 — the image of grass and flowers illustrate the brevity, fragility, and transience of human life, emphasizing its dependence on God and its passing nature.

[ii] Matthew 10:30; Luke 12:7 — Jesus teaches that God’s care extends to the smallest and most specific details of human life, even to the point of numbering the hairs on one’s head, expressing intimate divine attentiveness.

A Note on “Science” (In My Own Way)

A daily routine might look like a simple behavioral choice, waking up at a set time, eating meals on schedule, working in a co-working space, but its implications reach deeply into biology, psychology, and even long-term health outcomes. From what I understand in a more instinctive, everyday way rather than from any formal scientific inquiry, routine is not merely about discipline, but a way of aligning my human behavior with my body’s internal systems, especially as it expects regularity in the usual environment.

Retirement and the Loss of Routine

My first real problem in retirement is routine. Suddenly, waking up is puzzling, and each hour becomes a hurdle of whatnots, because nothing has been established yet. My circadian rhythm, this rough 24-hour internal clock that regulates my sleep, hormone release, metabolism, and cognitive performance, has become central in my thoughts. How I will time a new system, get reacquainted with my biological clock via external cues like sunlight and humidity. I am trying to focus on my consistent behavior.

I had a regular routine, sleeping and waking at the same time, eating meals predictably, and walking to the MRT, taking the train to the university, stopping by at the library, preparing my lessons, teach, repeat. This was a stable routine for many years.

When Routine Starts to Break Down

But as the routine has gotten rotten and ‘predictable,’ my sleep has gotten worse and unmanageable. My alertness has suffered, teaching has relaxed, my waking hours too foggy for excellent lectures. So the regularity has disrupted my ‘circadian rhythm.’

Now the absence of routine once more threatens to dismantle the circadian alignment, and instead of rest, I have fatigue, forgetfulness, and due to laziness and boredom, more hormonal imbalance, high blood pressure, and vertigo.

So much for retirement.

Building a New Routine Again

But I guess the answer to a non-routine is precisely that, a NEW routine, so I will have a more efficient brain. My critical faculties cannot suffer, my thinking cannot deteriorate, my imagination has to fight this lethargy. Habit formation is my cure. I need to find actions that I will repeat and repeat day after day, to encode them in my neural pathways.

As the basal ganglia allows routine behaviors to become automatic, my cognitive load will be reduced, and I will be free for complex problem-solving, creativity, and decision-making. Routine to free me, routine to enable, routine to energize.

Psychological Stability Through Predictability

Psychologically I should have better emotional responses to situations if routine is in place. Predictability provides a sense of control, which is crucial in managing my anxiety. When I know what to expect from my day, my brain will perceive fewer threats, my cortisol released.

I have a relaxing environment, but I can’t let the calm produce uncertain moments. I need stimulation, a structured routine, to buffer the lay-by, so I can sit down in an actual calm, and productive ground. This means new learning for me, new skills, new memories. Studying, maybe, or practicing a new trade, or insisting on a daily reading guide, anything to not let time pass by unintentionally, is my temporal conditioning, for focus and efficiency. Over time, this routine itself will prime for optimal performance. An expansion.

Designing a Flexible Daily Structure

So how and what daily routine shall apply each day? This should take very good care of my body as well, improving well-being. Routine for regular, healthy eating, walking, devotion and meditation, writing, reading, studying, the usual, but new, since I will be doing them without the regulation of employment. Being old has the best advantage here, routine is entirely in my hands. So I can be flexible (does this mean the routine can be regularly broken, then, how will it still be a routine?) I can be consistent in inconsistency and nobody will mind. This only means establishing a most beneficial routine, one that is structured but adaptable. Meanwhile, I still have the advantage of regularity, while not resisting stressfully unexpected irregularities.

Routine as a Scaffold for Living

The routine will be my scaffold so I can function more humanly, robotic AI can’t be my final answer. My biological rhythms need an upgrade, my hormonal imbalances need stability. And I need to conserve my thinking capacity, that is, overthinking happens in lazy hours, actually, so better fill the hour with creative endeavors. This routine shall ground my emotions, and promote a calmer, gentler, more graceful ageing.

The routine then is my final answer for optimizing me.