“BETH,” she’d call me in her gentle voice as she passed by my work station. She’d peer over my monitor, smile softly, and nod. “Good story.”
The first time I heard this, fresh out of college and new in the industry, I felt like I melted into a puddle of goo. A compliment from a writer you looked up to felt like getting a star stamp from your favorite pre-school teacher. I was #giddy.
I remember during my first few months in SunStar Cebu as a news reporter, I’d be a silent fangirl of the editors and writers in the paper. It felt surreal to be working with writers you looked up to. Ma’am Erma was no exception, I’d get real #FangirlFeels every time. She was one of the writers I seriously looked up to and wanted (want) to become.
Working with her was like a dream.
She was gentle and kind. She’d gently touch my arm, smile, and nod at either the good or the bad in my stories. She was the “gentle reminder” in my writing life when it came to writing mistakes.
One time, when there was a mistake in my story that slipped through editing, she silently came over to my station and offered a gentle laugh and smile.
When I covered the sinking of the Princess of the Stars tragedy for a month, I remember I came into the newsroom looking a little worse to wear. Ma’am Erma came to my station, again peered gently over my monitor and smiled. “You’re doing a good job,” she said, holding up the paper and pointing at my story. “Good story,” she said.
Ma’am Erma was the silent writing coach who knew how to encourage you from the sides. She’d always be there gently touching your arm, reminding you of the grammar mistake or type, or praising you for the good job you’ve done—smiling softly in both cases. It’s a gentle way that would help you grow as a writer.
After leaving my job at SunStar Cebu as a news reporter, I’d occasionally visit the newsroom either for work or social calls. Every time I’m there for a visit, I hoped to catch Ma’am Erma in her corner in the library.
It still made me giddy inside that she’d remember me even years after my full-time writing stint. I was such a big fan of her work, her style, and her presence. She was warm, welcoming, and gentle.
Every time she’d call me over, I’d sheepishly shuffle in and sit down. She’d ask if I had been writing anything other than my weekly column. There’s a story, yes, I’d say.
She’d nod approvingly and talk about books, typos, and the latest news. After a few minutes, she’d smile and turn back to the page she was editing.
Hay, I miss you Ma’am Erms.