Pelumi’s call woke me up this morning. He’s in transition to one of the biggest changes in his our lives. I’m hopeful and praying that these are the days we would look back at and smile.
When our call ended, spontaneously, I started clearing out the clothes I had left scattered in a box for 2 weeks. That same Spirit led me to pick up ‘On Writing’ by Stephen King. I’ve read this book before and although I don’t remember what I learnt or the precise feelings that came with it, rereading it felt like the right move to make this morning.
You may be wondering why this is important. I’m also curious about why you’re still reading this- but let’s keep it moving, shall we?
You see, circa 2018, I was a book blogger. I was slowly building relationships in the Bookstaverse and setting targets for books to read every year. Heck, to meet my 2018 50-book goal, I was reading Dan Brown’s The Lost Symbol at 11:30 pm on December 31 to ensure I achieved it. That’s how seriously I took my literary life.
The next year, I picked up from where I stopped but fell off a few weeks in – and unlike other times, I never successfully picked myself up. Almost three years have passed, and it feels like a different life now.
I have tried- and failed- to retrace my steps to estimate what went wrong. How did I stop reading books and articles? What stops me from writing, at least, once a month? Where did that Desire go?
A lot has changed in my life that I have embraced and want. On the flip side, there are things I want to run back to. I would shred the fabric of time to go back to when my dad used to take me and Chinemelum to the salon to get our hair done. We’d walk from our flat down to the hairdresser to get a specific style we always got when he took us there and he’d wait till we were done. He also did this a few times in my late teens. My dad has always been present and even as a child, I knew how monumental those moments were.
In this vein, having the opportunity to go back to the Desire that took a book everywhere- the girl that stayed off social media for 5 months- seems like it would be amazing. Then, I remember that this was also the girl that got dumped on her birthday, made stupid romance decisions and worked in a hospital where she had to forcefully commit fraud because she was an intern.
Given this whole picture, it is now a no for me. I only want a portion of who I was- a girl who created worlds from books she read. Can I get her back?
On Writing is sub-themed ‘A Memoir of the (writing) craft’ and it feels like the right kind of book to get me back to the bibliophile life. I’ve always believed that reading and writing are Siamese twins- different purposes and lives, but still within the same entity. My plan is to prop up my reading which will consequently lead me back to being a good writer, so you don’t have to keep reading subpar writing like this from me. It seems like a good way to do this is to kill two birds with one stone – by reading a book about writing.
This is one of the most uncomfortable things I have written and it’s not because it was emotionally hard to share. It’s because this feels new, devoid of depth, lacking the makings of a good story- to me. if you actually read through this, you may either be a loved one or somehow who was really curious about how this would end.
Eventually, all I want is to read and write more. It used to be my happy place and I want to rediscover if it still is – or can be.
Taking a cue from one of the most important people in my life, this is a reset. Cheers to that!
