Writing is not what I was born with, rather, it started and developed over time. I remember mother telling me didactic stories, these tales of good behaviour probably opened my mind’s eye. My mother would show me her favourite childhood adventures; these first steps into fundamental literature usually spoke of stories about far off lands with magic, sparks of witch craft and mayhem. In these worlds, mountains exploded with new improbable ideas and imaginations on a daily basis.
My mother placed a lot of these books on shelves, which were short and reachable. Elder sister and I would take turns reading to each other. We read all the Chronicles of Narnia books, some Harry Potter books, Cinderella, Aladdin and the Flying Carpet, Eze Goes to School, Simbi and Ali and so much more.
As I advanced in age and education, I started keeping diaries- well it was more of a journal. I believe in keeping a journal, which often is a combination of texts and drawings. I have kept journals since I was a teenager. I sometimes revisit old journals, and I am always pleasantly surprised to see that some of the hopes, ideas and dreams I had then have become realities. Words are powerful! We may not know it, but we draw things to ourselves when we declare them or write them down. Writing in my journal also serves as therapy. I usually feel better almost immediately I pour my heart out on paper. I see myself grow, and I am always amazed at the transformational ideas, hopes, and dreams in my journals that have contributed to my development.
Asides journaling, I love video games and detective movies. Too much play makes you carefree but occasional play actually makes you smarter. Video games and detective movies left a huge impression on my ability to form complex story line and plot twists. Video games in particular teach you to solve problems as well as develop a keen sense for adventure. It helped push every jumbled imagination into place in my writing; it helped organize my thoughts better while detective movies influenced the complexities in some of my stories.
Writing for me is a fantastic hobby. I don’t do it for money. Only a fool would go into writing for money. I don’t know anybody who started writing for that reason. There are a few persons who have made it really big from writing. These classes of persons are a sub class of endangered species. Writing doesn’t make sense unless it is about passion. Writing is an exploration. I write to scream and to communicate, which as I get older is less about screaming and more about connecting.
More than anything, writing is what I want to do with my time. There are other great reasons to write. To tell a story, to be heard, to create art, to participate, to add to the generational discussion, to make a political point, to make the world a richer place and a host of other inexhaustible reasons.
Writing requires creativity. Creativity is the heart of any artistic work. Our creativity is our Nile, flowing through us, all our nourishment blossoming along its banks. Writing is a personal matter, exploring what you love being and what defines who you are. It allows for an inner exploration of self. This breakthrough is the key to love for writing and that love is all you need; after that everything else falls into place.
Writing is less about the actual act and more about what you write and how you write it. Imagination is the key to writing. Writers are not born, they are made!