Mannequin Wedding - Bikozulu
4 months ago, 27 Feb 11:01
When budding writers ask me how one can become a good writer I always tell them, “You have to be unafraid to start a sentence with “and.” People don’t like starting sentences with conjunctions because teacher Lucy of Class Five Blue said it’s bad to do so way back in 1987. In 1987 nobody thought the word kiosk or panga would end up in the English vocabulary. Now you can say kiosk at the UN convention and no befuddled delegate would turn to the other in a whisper, “Is this the Congolese guy you were talking about?” Kiosk made its bones, learnt how to wash its hands and now it eats with elders. And that’s the thing. (See how “and” effortlessly finds its place at the beginning of a sentence as if it is its birthright?) Nobody wants to take time to learn to wash their hands anymore. They want to walk into a room and demand to sit at the table. We all want to sit at some table.. I want to sit at the next table but I have to ; for now keep washing my hands and sitting at this table here. Which begs the age old question; how does one become great at anything? How do you become, not a good or great but excellent chef? Or a politician? Or a cyclist? Or a professional mourner? Because even a professional mourner wants to be invited to the biggest funeral in the village, but if his lungs are weak, if he hasn’t built the air for it, that invitation will never come. We could say we want excellence with our mouths because apparently what we utter with our tongues eventually comes to pass. Or we could think it and wish it because the universe eventually hands you what you wish for in your bones. But all this will come to naught if we don’t bend to wash our hands. Daily. Even when the water is cold. Or in a trickle. And that act of washing hands is not the enjoyable part;. There is no romance to writing. Not for me. It’s a beautiful torment. It’s abusive – And torturous. But its highs are worth all its lows. I’m in love with the beast of writing, stuck with her because she’s the only one who knows what my soul eats. My three-day Writing Masterclass will not make you a great writer if you haven’t surrendered your heart to the femme fatale of writing. To write is to let go passionately. Like everything else, some have the heart for it while others approach it with romance. Unfortunately, romance ends. Eventually. Or it changes into something we don’t recognise. So it ends. I’m not one to say who can be a good writer and who can’t be a good writer because I’m also washing my hands. But I can always see the ones that have given their hearts. I see it in in their brave – sometimes boisterous – paragraphs. ...
Category: blogs bikozulu
I have always said that I would never broach this subject but recent events in my life have forced my hand. Single parents. ...Category: blogs
The freedom of expression crusaders can say what they like about this new law that criminalises the publishing of false information, but looking at it from the prism of freedom alone is a selfish way ...Category: blogs
It is time to declare war against the arrogant and rogue pastors who, because of their money, power and connections, are getting away with many crimes. ...Category: blogs