#18 My way of navigating the world
The motivation letter I wrote to apply for a position — but never sent. Which position? Oh, no spoilers — the reveal comes at the end!
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Those who’ve been reading me for a while might find it odd to see certain stories repeated in this text. Yes, I’m talking about Dona Terezinha.
That’s because the letter that follows wasn’t meant to be published. But since it was never sent, I’ve changed my mind.
So I ask for your understanding. Please don’t leave me.
This will be her last appearance — I hope. Whoever holds my hand until the end of the text will understand why.
Bali, March 27, 2025
Applicant: Ferdinando dos Santos Casagrande
To the Esteemed Members of the Evaluation Committee,
In fifty-four years, I have lived many lives. What threads them all together is a single calling: writing. A calling I have answered only in roundabout ways — partially, incompletely.
This, then, is the fundamental motivation: the vocation that has accompanied me ever since well-crafted sentences and paragraphs first transported me into the wondrous world built by imagination.
At the age of twelve, with the kind of innocence only children are allowed, I had already made up my mind: I would be a writer. My future was set — until the unfortunate intervention of the career guidance counselor:
— Oh, my dear. You'll never be able to support a family with that profession.
A stone, placed with surgical precision in my path, blocking the dream of making a living through imagination.
I wanted to write, but bills had to be paid.
That was where innocence ended — and the detour began. With the compass of vocation thrown off course, I took an alternate path: journalism.
In the newsrooms, writing became a tool. Objectivity. Clarity. Conciseness. No repetitions. No excess. I learned. I mastered this new skill.
At first, it was captivating — but as the years went by, it became clear: it wasn’t enough.
Still simmering beneath the surface were the longing for imagination, the urge to explore subjectivities, emotions, uncertainties.
After all, who has that many certainties?
If there was no room in the press, would personal blogs suffice? Two projects were born.
Casa da Lagoa, during the years I lived in Rio de Janeiro; Casa de Luanda, when I moved to the Angolan capital.
I experimented with sensitive writing — shaped by listening, memory, and a poetic observation of everyday life. A rich experiment, yes, but once again, just a palliative.
When I left for New York with two small children, blogs were no longer enough.
In the United States, I found the courage. To pursue the desire — almost an obsession — to publish a book, that physical representation of entering the literary world.
It took me two years to finish, and it won the Amazon Reportage Book Award (Prêmio Livro-Reportagem Amazon) in 2019. It was published by Editora Record, one of the biggest publishing houses in Brazil.
With the unlikely biography of an extinct newspaper, I peeked through the door into the realm of Literature. But, not yet, this wasn’t the time I felt at ease in the temple.
How so? How many people achieve this dream? How many, on top of that, are awarded on their debut? Surely, I should consider myself accomplished.
I should, but then what? Was that all?
The next day, there they were — the questions staring back at me in the mirror where we avoid the passage of time every morning.
Only then did I understood: I seek the writing of emotion. Layers, silences, subtext. Writing that pulses, awakens, enchants, transforms those who write, those who read.
No, I wasn’t fulfilled. My next book would have to be fiction.
I raised the sails of a novel. I experimented with the fusion of journalistic language, documentary research, and literary creation.
It was an unknown world. It soon became clear. I needed a new compass, one adjusted for the fictional ocean.
In 2024, I moved to Bali.
In Indonesia, I arrived without a job, with no future horizon, scared of obsolescence knocking at the door.
I grasped the calling for writing as a cure, a rescue of memory. An antidote to the banalization of emotions in the digital world. I created DESNORTEANDO.
It was a way to reconnect with the original dream, with that boy who had been forgotten, but who never stopped existing.
Which brings me to the pursuit of the master's degree.
In the Master’s in Creative Writing, I intend to develop a narrative fiction project on digital angst — the silent pandemic that threatens to destroy us before global warming does — and human memory as its antidote.
Supported by the excellence of the University of Coimbra, I want to share the knowledge I carry and acquire, with professors and colleagues, advanced skills and critical insight necessary to build the new compass.
The north that will help me navigate the ocean of fiction and avoid the rocks of obsolescence, fully aware that, more than a destination, writing is my way of navigating the world.
With kind regards,
Ferdinando Casagrande
This was the motivation letter for the next stage of my life, one I contemplated before leaving Brazil and that has matured in Bali.
A return to school, 33 years later. A master’s degree to ground in knowledge the writing that has always been intuitive.
A realignment with my true SELF.
The letter, however, was never sent. Yes, there are many stones on the path.
It was killed by a tiny pebble. The system warning at the moment of pressing the send button.
The file should not exceed the size of an A4 page. And this letter was way too long. That’s why it never reached the evaluators in Coimbra.
The application, however, went ahead. With a shorter version of the letter. Less inspired, more bureaucratic.
It earned me 15 out of the 20 possible points, and the response I received was:
“The motivation letter refers to the candidate's professional background as a journalist, emphasizing his desire to develop narrative fictionalization skills. While not delving deeply into the reflection, it shows an awareness of the different writing techniques and modalities.”
The scores from the Bachelor's in Social Communication were added to it (17 out of 20 points) as well as the sample of fictional work (15 out of 20 points):
“(...) the first chapter of an in-progress book titled ‘A Casa do Alto da Colina’ (…) demonstrates the ability to fictionalize and some technical mastery in constructing spaces, times, perspectives, and dialogues.”
And so ends today’s letter.
With the beginning of a new story: the acceptance of my application to the Master’s in Creative Writing in Portugal.
Goodbye, Dona Terezinha. See you in Coimbra!