Monthly Archives: January 2014


I am a obsessed with reading ~ and I love reading writing prompts from writers who have made it, and are now dining with the mighty, sipping wine that they bought using the money that they made through their writing. (Winking) And trust me, such writers are few….

I wish I was one of them.

Of the time, I have been asking myself: can anyone write? Should everyone write….and even more importantly, why do I write?



When I started this blog, it was simply a place for me to hide from the real world and put down the emotion that was going through me. Like a therapy room where the blank white paper ~unsoiled and uncorrupted~ is my therapist who doesn’t judge. And the more I stained this paper with words, the more relieving it felt. It still does.

I write because I do not know any other way to express myself. I never have.

I know one can take lessons on writing, one can learn the ropes, of where to put the 5Ws and a H, one can memorize metaphors, and all the big words of the dictionary…one can take a whole year’s vacation and sit by the ocean to get inspiration…..




If you do not have the passion, if you cannot slice your soul into two and feel what you are writing, then no matter how hard you try….you writing will always hang in the air of ordinary. ‘

And ordinary is not enough if you want to stain the minds of your readers, if you want your name to be whispered long after you are gone.

Wahome Mutai was not ordinary. Maya Angelou is not ordinary. Chimamanda stepped out of the ordinary when she wrote the Purple hibiscus…

For you to be different, you have to write honestly. You have to do it mindfully. With your blood.



Write down your experience, your emotions, your fears, the things you have conquered…..what you feel from deep within you, without censuring. Write what other people fear to read.

Stories are within you. Look around ~ the people that surround you. The words they say, their dialogues, their actions, humanity and its struggles to live. The pains that people go through in their attempt to move forward with life. The little sparks of light in everyone of us….the acts of kindness you experience.

Every day. There is a story going on around you. There is always a story, if you became aware of your surrounding, if you let out your inner self and connected with what happens outside yourself.

Take a look at your family…how many stories can you find. Have a look at your life’s journey, the many steps you have taken, the flights, the falls, the awakenings, the failures, the tears, the blood, the struggle to let go, the love, the breaking of your heart, your hymen, your innocence, your jaded look at life.

Look at everything carefully….



There are so  many stories that need to be told -stories that are inside you, if only you would be courageous enough to write them down without wondering if you will be judged. If only you didn’t care what people will think of you.

 If you hoard information and keep it to yourself, then you are no less than those who light a candle and keep it cupped in the safety of their hands while they are in a pitch black room.

Let your candle out my friend.

There is so much depth in everyone of us. So much than you ever imagined. Sometimes all you need to do is start. Scribble something. Write about what you are feeling. Keep a journal.

Write. Write. Write.

Write about taboo subjects. Go wild and write about sex, orgasms, masturbation, incest, rape, flirting…..

Do it.

Make your readers light up and experience what you are trying to say.

Nobody has the same experience as we do. Nobody has gone through the same experience as you have. You are unique. You are different, and you have a story.

Tell it!

Listen. I have to tell you something:
It doesn’t matter if you have a Phd in writing. It doesn’t matter if you went to several literature schools, it don’t matter if your GPA is a solid 4.0! The only way that you can write is when you throw down self preservation. When you DARE and write what is really in you, without censor.





Categories: Uncategorized | Leave a comment


Ever since I was a young girl, I have been an avid reader. I remember hiding tomes of books behind my Geography book and reading silently while the teacher droned on and on about rocks. A topic that bored me to no end. Thing is, it is those books that made me experience so many things that I couldn’t afford. I would ride with my imagination and savor the words of the likes of John Grisham, Ngugi Wa Thiong’o, Maya Angelou and every book that I could put my hand on. I had the insatiable thirst for anything put in print….an obsession. I used most of my money to buy books. And even now, I still get excited when I see someone reading a book ~ especially young people who have been born in the sad generation that may never get to go through the crisp pages of a new novel and get lost in the world of printed books (Ay! to the global warming and felling trees talk already)

Anyway, so recently, when I went home for holiday, one of my teenage cousins was reading a novel. She is a form three student, and she is at that stage of self discovery and feeling of adulthood that accompanies most teenagers. And she is moody as hell, she prefers to spend most of her days curled up with her books, and shutting out the whole world.

b 4


So, when I saw her reading a book, I thought it would give us a beautiful chance to bond, and for me to thaw through the ice that she presents to everyone and the pout that she always walks with; as if everyone is pissing her off (Oh, the joy of teenage, sigh!)

 “ Is that Harlequin? Those romance books?” I asked excitedly when I saw the cover that was so obvious and farmiliar. Those books shaped my perception of romance and I loved reading them.  

When I mention that, she folds a page on the bottom of the book and sits up. Probably pissed to be disturbed by an oldie who is interrupting  her time of being moody *Giggle*


Anyway, a wave of nostalgia hits me and floods me. I tell her how I loved those books when I was growing up. It sounds like a lifetime ago….when I would sit through a whole night and read my harlequin novel. Yeah, I know, he plots and story line was always the same every time….a gorgeous good hearted and hard working virgin bumps into a handsome man with good hair who is so damn wealthy and probably rides horses or works in a farm!


Of course, like a typical soap opera, they fight each other constantly, and there is always some snobbish woman on the side who is trying to come between their true love, and the tension builds, sometimes they face barriers like distance separating them, and the only thin threat holding their sweet love is the letter that they write each other, sometimes a whole jar of emotions, that would make my young heart beat with yearning, just reading and imagining how I would react if I got such a sweet letter from my beloved….never mind that at that time, I didn’t even know what I would do if I had a boyfriend.

Somehow, their love would scatter all the barriers and one day the woman would be walking aimlessly and notice a man feeding blind horses or the man would get into a garden a see a farmiliar figure picking flowers and singing  a sad song, and they would recognize each other almost immediately and then they would embrace and kiss passionately, and the man would propose, and on the final page, they would still be kissing and preparing for a wedding, for a hopeful ‘happily ever after…’



I smiled and made light of those days that I spent reading those sappy novels and making silent wishes and dreaming about things that never actually happened.

Anyway, my cousin gave what sounded like a snort when I told her of the harlequins…of the books I read.

“I have never read any harlequin that has such a weird story line….” She said while doing that semi rolling of eyes that kids of today do *Sigh*
“And they have sex before page 15…”

“And they are no longer in farms or picking flowers. They are in clubs and drugs are being sold…”


And I felt my lovely teenage years being spoiled just like that.

No, am not prude or anything. Trust me, I love me some saucy debauchery, but I don’t want sweet harlequins to evolve into some form of Fifty shades….
eitherway, what can I do?
So I smile feebly at her and walk away to leave her with her book (Can you believe it? Sex before page 15? Has the man charmed her by page 11? *I cant*

Maybe I need to get a new copy of Harlequins or Mills and Boon and start over








Categories: Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Blog at


Because everyone has a story


Love and life. Life and Love.

Stories inspired by tossing a YOYO



The greatest site in all the land!

Manwale's Blog

"To write is to undress, to make public what we write is to walk nude."


Smile :). The world needs it :)


your imperfection doesn't make you broken; it makes you human

Life, oh life!

Live Like its your Very Last Day-To the fullest

Tina Turners Home Decor

Its about people's homes, the back and the front yards and offices....


A journey through life's events...Smiling through them all!

%d bloggers like this: