I am a practising Roman Catholic. I go to church most Sundays. I give offertory almost regularly. I try to read my bible often and say my rosary as often as possible. I’ve not been so faithful to God, I’ve made promises I’ve not kept and they still hunt me. I’m dust and imperfect, no matter how much I struggle to keep a clean slate the devil comes around and pours sand sand into my garri. I know it’s the devil who makes me fall asleep during night prayers but afterwards I go ahead and chat all night. It is the devil who makes me feel lazy about going to church but when a friend comes around I’m up and willing to hang out. It’s the devil who makes me lock our gate once I sight those Jehovah witness preachers from a distance even when am idle. The devil is to blame for all the wrongs I’ve done. He’s also to blame for the rawness that accompany my stories.
I remember back in sec school, the occasion when my English teacher after reading one story I wrote was so shocked at my mastery of the art of writing the act. He condemned me and preached to me. Yes I still remember his words cos they pierced me. They pierced me but didn’t stop me. The next story I wrote was like that too. When that man came to talk to us during assembly he said romance novels were responsible for the dirty thoughts some people had. I did not have dirty thoughts but I read romance novels. I read them so much in sec school. They were the most available and popular novels in school then….among students.
So the source of that rawness that usually accompanies my write ups must be the romance novels. I’ve been reading M&B since I was twelve, I haven’t stopped and I do not think I’ll ever stop. Even then there are people that have read it more than I i’ve. Some have even combined reading with watching and they still write godly stories and poems….not like i write ungodly stories or poems. I am laden because my xtian friends condemn me, my English teacher condemned me. Can you imagine them pointing a finger at me when four accusing fingers point back at them? For all I know they might have those sizzling fantasies I write about, they could be masturbating too and still have the audacity to criticise me because I pen down their fantasies for them. And why didn’t they stop reading when they got to that part eh? They most definitely enjoyed it although their consciences might have pricked them a little. Sin generally is like sugar. You keep gulping more and more even when you know it would be harmful to your health. You need serious discipline to stop gulping down sin.
So these people they condemn me. I’ve tried to stop but its like am not in control. When I write imagination takes over. I might admit to having a raw imagination but not a dirty mind. Not at all, my mind is white. I’ve managed to pen down some stories without that factor interfering but they are only but a few compared to the others. What would I do about it? I wont quit writing that’s suicidal. I don’t think I can stop the rawness either. The deliverance my xtian friends suggested is not in the very least an option. I am spiritually sound joo. There’s no stupid evil spirit involved.
Who knows this might be a sign or a message, maybe I’m supposed to be a harlequin writer. I know I’ll do very well as a romance writer. But only the thought of it makes me want to throw up. Sign ke? Sounds so illuminaticious. I’m a child of God and will remain God’s child. Trash all that thing about signs and message to be a harlequin writer. Still I wonder what the difference between writer and reader is sef. At least these days with maturity and wisdom I’ve been able to tame that rawness factor to an extent and I’m still working on it especially as the number of xtian friends I have are increasing. I won’t stop writing sha, neither will I hide a wonderful piece of literature under my pillow because of what others may think. I think any one that does that is pretending…forming.