I'm a Writer: A Day in the Life

Hi! Tuesday meets me ignoring the dishes in the sink, and the mess in the bedrooms. I need, I want, I have to...(Don't you just love pressure)...write 5 articles for a client. Now this client has been very understanding, but enough is enough. I need to finish not just so I can fulfill my obligation to them for the year, not just so I can get my money (Yay! money), but also so I can get down with my nanowrimo project: Good Intentions. A novel about love, marriage and expectations. I'm hoping it will be Jodi Picoult meets Marian Keyes.

Anyway, 5 articles. To write. Today.

Each 800 words (no big deal).

Will I write all 4,000 words tonight? It's possible, but I don't think I will. Actually, I don't know if I can, but who knows.

Wish me luck. Or whatever it is that will give me the ginger.

Back Story Monday: The Day of The 3 in 1 Meal

Hey.

Would you believe I thought today was Tuesday? I have no idea why. Hmm. I gotta lay off the chocolate. It's messing with my mind...and waistline...and weight loss goal.

Ah well, It's Monday! This means I owe you some back story on what has happened, and what I've been up to between Gypsy Black and now.

Well, my dad died. We buried him. I got a job at a publishing house. It was a learning experience. I'm not gonna get into it 'cos...I'm not. Let's just say I realised that I really don't enjoy being an employee. So I quit. After 6 months. Just in time for my CFA exam, and my wedding. Yeah, I got engaged. Then married.

What was my wedding like? Well. In retrospect, not half bad. I enjoyed some things. Threw a couple of tantrums and got away with it. Discovered what a diplomatic man Papa Goo was. You know, regular Nigerian, three ring circus wedding stuff. I even wrote an article about it.

After the wedding, we had a lovely honeymoon in Ghana at a hotel that sits right on the beach. I loved it. And I loved the restaurant. I got married a size 8 going on 10, and came back from my honeymoon a size 12. The food was that good. The most memorable day, was the day of the 3 in 1 meal.

You see, Papa Goo is not adventurous when it comes to his meals. He'll eat rice all day, every day, if he can get away with it. Everything else is not food. So you can imagine his consternation (Presenting our Word of The Day), when the restaurant did not have rice on its menu. How did he go around this? He ordered only chicken dishes, because they came with a side dish of rice. However, it meant he got more chicken than rice, and his rice loving tummy was not happy.

I, on the other hand, was having a marvelous time. I tried new things - fettuccine in white cheese (ugh!) and some old favourites (burger and fries), and don't get me started on the non alchoholic cocktails (Cinderella, anyone?). I left every meal stuffed, and happy. He left every meal full enough. Until the day of the 3 in 1 meal.

It was lunch time. We took a seat on one of the balconies overlooking the beach. We were close enough to feel the breeze and spray of the ocean, and taste the salt in the air. The waiter gave us our menus, and Papa Goo went for Spaghetti Bolognese.

"Close enough to rice, isn't it?"

I nodded, and glanced at the menu.

"I'm gonna order this Chicken Peri Peri thing", I said, and he shook his head.

"What?" I asked. Unnecessary question. I knew what.

"Nothing", he said, leaning back in his chair.

I looked back to the menu. Hmm. What if-

"You can order the Chicken Peri thingy? It's no big deal", he said.

"I will", I mumbled, "but I would also like those fries. They were delicious",

"So order the fries".

"They only come with the burger".

"Yeah?"

"I don't want the burger".

"Oh. No wahala. I'll take the burger".

"Sweet", I said. I may have done a fist pump. Yay, fries! And made my order.

The meals came back. Spaghetti Bolognese. Burger and Fries. And Chicken Peri Peri. Or if you prefer, white rice and stew with shredded chicken. Yup. Seriously.

Papa Goo was ecstatic. And that day, we both left our table stuffed, and happy, and have since lived happily ever after.

THE END.

(cue applause)

PS. Here's a quote from one of my Pastors, "Food is the love of God made edible".

Spaghetti Bolognese with Burger and Fries

Half eaten Chicken Peri Peri

Now that's food for thought.

It's not you, It's me.

So...how many of you know Steve Harris?

Show of hands please.

Lovely.

If you don't, check out his website.

Anyway, Harris is a life strategist. A kind of life coach meets bully. Seriously.

He just threatened to kick me off his program, if I didn't get here straightaway and update this 'ere blog.

So here I am. Hey, Harris *waving frantically*. We good?

Phew! The thing is, I'm not a brat. Or a difficult person. (ignore my lengthening nose please). I'm actually a well rounded individual with goals and deadlines and timelines, and do not at all struggle with procrastination, or poor time management, or an inability to prioritize. Nah! I'm damn near perfect.

My one flaw? I'm so talented, I think I can do everything.

It's true.

*Big grin*

Anyway, I'm sorry. Again. I got lazy. And a little overwhelmed. And mostly lazy. And so when the internet started acting up for a couple of days, I didn't come back. It's nothing personal I love that I have a blog, and that some people take time to check it out and even leave comments. Seriously! Like Wow! However, I'm a commitment-phobe so you're gonna have to be patient with me. Love me through my great days, and the days I don't show up without so much as a by your leave.

Why?

I'll make it worth your while. Honest. Just ask my husband.

And with that segue, check out Papa Goo's YouTube channel How She Left My Brother

PS. Yes, I know I owe you the rest of the egg shower. Wait till Thursday. Please. If I put it up now, then I may disappear for another 2 (or has it been 3) weeks.

Back Story Monday: And The Man Died

If you know me, or of me, you would know that my father passed away some years ago.

Four years ago.

Some days before Christmas Day.

But I've gotten ahead of myself. This is Back Story Monday. The day I give you a little insight to whatever happened to Gypsy Black. My little fashion revolution.

Well, I had been running Gypsy Black for two years with funds from investors who were also my cousins. Unfortunately it had been two years, and a whole lot of money was spent with not a kobo made. My investors were not happy, and needed me to give them reasons to continue, outside of "Hey, what's a couple of millions among family?". So I got a friend to do the books, did some more research, and got ready to placate my investors. I didn't think they would pull the plug, but I needed to be sure, and I wanted them to be comfortable with their decision to bet on me and my dream.

I remember talking to my Dad on the phone about it, and he asked how I was going to pay them back, and I informed him it wasn't a loan; it was an investment. They were not my debtors; they were fellow shareholders in this enterprise. He seemed pleasantly surprised, and said, "I'm proud of you". My father was not a man to give praise easily so it felt good to hear him say that.

That was the last time I spoke to him. A couple of days later he was dead.

What does this have to do with Gypsy Black? Well, enter The Relatives from The Village. 

...My father died in December. We were allowed to bury him in April. Why? Because we had to finish the 10 bedroom house that he had started and abandoned. And I use the word 'finish' loosely because the house had been started on marshland and had sunk halfway underground. So basically, we had to tear down and start again.

I couldn't leave my mum's side and I mean literally because I was afraid she would be kidnapped. By whom (or is it who)? The Relatives from The Village. Apparently, she was supposed to go stay in the village to mourn her dead husband. But...the corpse wasn't in the village, why would she be required to go there? Well, apparently as part of my late father's property, she was to be shared amongst the male relatives. This practice is customary in my part of the country. The wife is shared, so she can be protected and taken care of. So why were we uncomfortable with the request? Well, you see, there was a catch. The relative who got the wife, got the property. So it really wasn't about my mum; it was about property, specifically a 10 bedroom house we were being forced to build.

Sigh.

So here I was, by my mum's side, making sure she didn't cry too much; dealing with my relatives; keeping an eye on my siblings and planning a burial that The Relatives from The Village were determined to turn into a carnival.

By the time, we had buried him. I was exhausted. I saw the body once for probably 15 seconds before he was put in the ground. Before then, the last time I saw him was in August. I couldn't even say goodbye properly because there was such a crowd at the grave screaming and crying. Sure, don't mind me. I'm only trying to bury my father. Of course your loss is unbearable. Your grief supersedes my own.

I hated them all.

And I was so angry.

And so tired.

I just wanted them all to leave so I could say goodbye.

But no, they just kept coming. To tell us sorry. To say your father was a great man. To say your father has touched many people. I didn't care. It didn't matter. My Daddy was gone. All I had left was my mum, and my siblings. My world became black and white. It became about them. Would you help me take care of them? Then, welcome. Were you trying to hurt them or take advantage of them? Then I would do everything I could to protect them.

I didn't have the energy for anything else. Especially not a business that hadn't turned a profit yet. I didn't have the heart to dream my way out if it. All I had was the presence of mind to worry about my mum and my siblings.

So when an old classmate from UNIBEN referred me for an editorial position that would pay me twice as much as I was paying myself I took it.

There was no more Daddy. We had just spent a fortune burying him. The money would come in handy.

Did I intend to abandon Gypsy Black forever? No. I didn't have a plan on how I was going to dig it out of the hole, but I knew...I thought I would come back for it.  

Poems from a Sleepy Housewife(Writer)

One bright day

In the middle of the night

One housewife got up to write

Without tea

She yawned and yawned

Her fingers hovering over keyboard

She thought of Naruto

And thought, maybe just

One episode although write I must

Then she heard a crash and a cry

The Goo had just rolled off their bed.

True Story.

Blast from The Past Thursday (on a Sunday morning)

My apologies. I was out of town, in Ijebu-Ode (more on that later), and couldn't post anything. The internet connection was the stuff scary movies are made of - you know, remote location, unfamiliar locals, and no contact with the outside world. At least, the phones worked so hey, aal iz well.

Now on to business, I missed Blast from The Past Thursday, but I have no intention of depriving you, nehi (yeah, I enjoy the odd Bollywood movie). Here's a short story that I actually finished. First draft, that is. Then abandoned. Enjoy!

THE EGG SHOWER

"I want to thank you all for coming", said C.K., with a smile. "It's a great honour", he continued, "to have so many close friends here to celebrate the highly anticipated arrival of my chick-

"Our chick, dear", Mrs. Jones whispered behind him. The crowd laughed, and C.K. grinned.

"Of course, dear", he said, beaming, "our chick". He turned around to face her, "I also want to thank you dear", she lowered her head with a small smile, "I want to thank you for saying yes to me one year ago at the watering hole."

His wife murmured something inaudible, and lowered her head.

He continued, "I know my dazzling good looks and amazing moves would have wowed any female at the dance" he turned back to their guests and wriggled the crown of gold feathers on his head, "and believe me they did". The crowd laughed. "But you didn't have to marry me, and that's something I never take for granted", he said, turning back to his wife who had raised her head just enough to catch his eye and smile at him. He smiled back, and spread out his wings to hug her.

"Oh how sweet" sniffed a giraffe, and the other guests smiled and nodded in agreement. "Yes it is, isn't it?" said a Zebra, "but I still say he shouldn't be here. A male at an egg shower? It's unheard of."

"I'm sure he-"

"He couldn't stand his wife getting all this attention, that's what." said the Zebra, cutting off a meerkat.

"SSSh! Let's not be rude." said the giraffe, "he's started talking again.

Another giraffe moaned, "Does he ever stop?"

"You can be sure our chick will get my good looks, and intelligence. Breeding always wins out", C.K. was saying, "and of course, he'll get a lot of good things from his mother, of course."

"Like patience", muttered another meerkat.

"Of course, my son will learn everything I know which I learned from my father before me."

"Oh blue sky! Someone make him stop!" said another zebra, slumping against the trunk of a giraffe, "or he'll talk us straight through the night".

"-and we can be sure that the young crane will marry the brightest and best female of his time just like his father."

"Hear! Hear!" said a raspy voice. C.K. looked down from his perch on the acacia tree and noticed a hyena in the midst of his guests of zebras, meerkats and giraffes.

"Zelda, my friend" he said, spreading his wings to hide his wife and egg, "so good of you to come."

Zelda laughed, and said, "I wouldn't have missed your big celebration for all the water in the savannah, dear friend."

to be continued (on Thursday)

Look who's here and turning 30

First of all, apologies. It's been four years and I did nothing with this blog after the first post (bad Timi), but I'm here now. I have been writing and every Thursday, you'll get one Blast From The Past post. It will be an article, or a rant, or an unfinished short story, or the first words of an abandoned novel.

Yeah, I suppose you've noticed that things have stalled, and by that I mean, I stalled. It's kinda of a long story, and so every Monday, you will get a Back Story post.

And by now, you must have noticed, that I'm pulling these days out of my tushie (The Goo will probably read this someday), and you will have rightly deduced that I have near no idea of what I am doing. I'm hoping you can relate and find comfort, or just hilarity in my musings and mess ups till I make it (you see what I did there).

Anyway, I'm back, and I'm here to knock your socks off (or blow up my kitchen trying). Speaking of which, I'm boiling rice for Papa Goo. Later, darlings!

PS. Guess who's turning 30 in a couple of days?