I have a friend who tells me “I don’t understand this 2020 version of Debby”. Personally, I get myself sometimes. At other times, I don’t. This is mostly because I no longer have a routine for most things in my life. No constancy. I mostly wake up knowing the tasks I have pending and I see to them – in bits. This leads to feeling bad for what’s left undone.
But one task I haven’t felt bad about leaving undone is this blog. I’ve always wanted my blog to be as open as possible; share my life and lessons. But what happens when I can’t share my life because it intersects with other people’s stories? What happens when I can’t share some bits because they aren’t ripe for sharing yet? When I can’t share my lessons? Lessons which aren’t briefly gotten but are winding lessons that takes whole seasons and years? If I can’t share, then I don’t have a blog. So I’ve been thinking which one should go? My blog? Or my privacy?
Perhaps though, it may help to write prose. Such an old time friend, this prose. I got to write prose as I understood myself a little better in primary school. I’ve always been writing, but the first time I knew I had a following, I was about seven years old.
My seatmate, Cynthia, who was my best friend at the time, loved to read my stories. I credit her with the first publicity of my stories in school. Each 20 or 40 leaves notebook was dedicated to a particular story. Pictures were on alternate pages of a story, because if you didn’t know, I’m a skilled fine artist too. I draw. Or I drew š. It was equal parts pleasure for me. Detailed drawings that my readers marvelled at. And neat writing with an epic storyline.
So then, my classmates, mostly other seven year olds, would queue up on a written list for who gets to read my book next. It was so good, that some wise seven year olds thought to themselves that they’d gain greater ranking on the wait list, if they made some contribution to my ‘writing academy’.
I can’t remember the start or end of it, but they began to volunteer. In retrospect, it’s so funny. Lol.
There was a list of concievable roles in our company. We called it ‘ The Best Company’. I was the chief guy – the writer. And there were secretaries of different departments and even a driver, best believe. I remember this because one of those days, a classmate took home the list of ’employees’. Her mother saw it and was perplexed. Are these your classmates? Why do you have a driver there? Along with other jobs I can’t remember. I’m sure the story couldn’t add up so the mother came to school the following day and showed it to my class teacher. My teacher, aunty Hope, called me aside and asked me what it was about. I told her as plainly as possible what it was. It was so funny they couldn’t actually ask me to stop. They just made a joke of it. But there, that was my first awareness that I could create something that people love.
So let’s get back to writing a bit on here since you love to read and I love to write. I’ll try to narrate some flashbacks about experiences in my life and if ever it flows, I’ll imagine something and present you with fiction. Along the line, I know other write-ups will come. But in the mean time I do something I love and I’m open about it. Let’s have fun.
I figured you may have missed my face so I wanted to show you a picture but guys, I don’t have. I’ve not been taking pictures. Let’s keep our fingers crossed for next week.
Let’s meet in the comment section below. Love.
Stories, Truth and Blogging,
Debby
