Wednesday, August 22, 2012


View from my window. Rain time!

Power out, generator down, I gazed outside my window at the surrounding greenery; the palm trees, the plantain trees, the cassavas, cocoyam leaves. I have never felt such serenity before. Some people would pay thousands to experience such calm. I had it free. Yet I felt very uncomfortable.


Since the blackout I had read for over three hours, then stopped. Felt like doing something else. Maybe take a nap to calm the slight headache. But I stood by the window, gazing at the approaching drizzle, watching squirrels hop from palm tree to palm tree, listened to the sound of the forest birds; the coo of the doves, the cry of the canaries, the cackle of hens, then watch the sky darken again. Yet I was uncomfortable.


I wasn’t writing. Or… I haven’t written anything today.

I made up excuses; “The power’s out. Your generator is down. You cannot write because you have nothing with which to power your computer. So why not wait until power comes again before you write something.” The frustrating part is that whenever there is a downpour here, the power company sees an opportunity to mess with the electricity. Why they do that, I don’t know.

I accepted my fate, then turned to my second love, music. Earpiece on both ears, I listened to different genres of songs for over an hour, eyes glued to my phone’s battery meter so that I get to save some for calls and text messages. I didn’t want to go back to the dark ages.

I was still uncomfortable. Something was missing. Something wasn’t right. Deep down I knew it wasn’t the rapid reduction of my battery meter that bothered me.
I haven’t written anything today.

I stopped the music, decided to do it the ancient way before the advent of typewriters; write with a pen on a piece of paper. When power comes again, transfer to my computer.

But what do I write about after such frustration with the power company?

I decided to write a blog to share this uncomfortable experience and explain a bit on the blog hiatus.

Since the last two weeks, I have been in my hometown, to visit my grandma and to concentrate on finishing the editing process of The Road Taken, a YA Urban Fantasy set in South-Eastern Nigeria. I finished the first draft of The Road Taken mid last year, then hopped into The Intersection, second book in the series. Four months ago, I started Dead End, conclusion to the trilogy, but the writing output has slowed a bit because I’m now editing The Road Taken while writing Dead End. It’s hard work, but a writer has to do what a writer has to do, especially as it makes me happy and takes away that discomfort I feel whenever I haven’t written something in a day or two.

Sometimes I think writers are the most hardworking people on earth, because it isn’t easy at all to make up stuffs. We are sort of little gods; we create new worlds, new beings, new races; we create vampires, werewolves, aliens, goblins; we create places, situations, weathers. We tell truth and we entertain in our lies. We also create the future.

For now, I’ve not decided on which publication road to take. All I’m interested on now is to become a master in the craft, perfect my manuscript, and support other authors who have gotten their works out there. Maybe when my manuscript is close to perfect, I’d decide.

The question comes now.

Do you feel uncomfortable if you haven’t written anything in a day? For painters and artistes, do you feel uncomfortable if you haven’t done any painting or done some music in a day? Please share your experience in the comments section. Thanks!