It's inevitable. One way or another, the cudgel had to hit me straight in the face and knock me down from the pedestal which I stood on, put me where I rightfully belong, and deflate my over-inflated self-importance; the impact stirring the decade-old pretension of being a writer.

It has to happen, no doubt about it. Unfortunately, its realization had been delayed until recently when what was at stake was my financial well-being.

The issue: aptitude on my English grammar.

As a backgrounder, this problem first crept in as a serious disability on my last writing stint in a small publication house. My editors there burned me with their surreptitious gazes, loaded with enmity and loathing, as I speed-wrote every assignment they gave me, witless on the gruesome grammatical errors with which I murdered my articles. Before I finished my two-month training period, they kicked me out to their relief.

Still stubborn on claiming and acknowledging my deficiency, more than a year went with the winds and here I am again getting a crack on another writing job.

As a requirement prior to hiring, this organization is asking for a sample 250-word article. Brazen and my old self getting the better of me, I write the article as if a hyaena were chasing me. Written in haste, and even ignoring to do a proofread of the text, I send the article with blind confidence of having done a good job.

When the verdict comes, it spells a resounding and embrassing implicit question: You consider yourself a writer with this kind of article?

I am devastated. The pain of rejection spills on an argument with the writer-friend, who referred me to the company, through text.

Grammatical errors are unavoidable even to the best of writers. A couple or three errors, yes, but on the whole article near of beingpainted in red ink? I know I have mistakes, but I'm open for somebody to tell me what are those. You don't need anybody. Correct grammar is basic in every writer.... and by the way, FYI, your messages are full of grammatical errors.

The cudgel landed right on my face.

It's obvious, my responsibilities as a writer was not taken seriously, if not altogether taken for granted. I failed to do my assignments, and laziness has breed a lousy writer like me.

And now, I know where I rightly belong; my self-importance shrunk to its true size.