Memoirs of a writer 2.
Have you ever written something really bad and felt like burning the very computer on which it was written in an attempt to completely erase the evidence of your poor talent? Well, I have-not destroyed my computers- but felt bad several times, but it never stopped me from writing some more. I saw this as a test by life, to see if I had what it took to be a writer and thankfully I passed the test. As a writer, focus and persistent effort at your craft are more important than having great talent. The really great writers are those who are devoted to their craft, not just the talented ones.
Writing and Self Publishing Master Class.
It’s been a while since I taught a writing and self publishing class.
I didn’t want to fall into the trap of teaching others how to write while I did absolutely nothing about my own writing. So, I declined invitations to speak at workshops and focused on writing my own books. The last class I taught was about three years ago. Quite a number of people have asked when my next self publishing seminar is coming up and I told them to hold on until this year. So here we are.
The reason I haven’t organised any seminar in the last three years is simple. I am not in the business of organising seminars on writing to make a living. I am a writer who occasionally teaches on writing. It is important that you recognise this distinction. Continue reading
Memoirs of a writer.
I scribbled something in my notebook, read it, shook my head and marked the page with an angry ‘X’. If I read the page later and still wasn’t impressed, it would end up in the waste paper basket.
“Good morning, Mr George.”
My writing table faced the window. Anybody who passed by in the compound could see me writing. However, I didn’t expect anybody to pass by that early except of course the owner of the house who had a mini-warehouse at the back of the building. She stopped in front of my window and looked at what I was doing.
“Good morning,” I replied cautiously, expecting her to move on and leave me alone with my thoughts.
“Why are you at home and not at work?” she inquired.
I wondered why she was asking. She had never been interested in what I did for a living as long as I paid my rent.
“I am a writer. This is my work.”
Technically, I wasn’t a writer because until then I had not written or published anything for public consumption.
“Ha,ha,ha!” She laughed with derision and looked at me with pity.
“You are a writer? You better get a job like everyone else instead of deceiving yourself that this is a job. Is this how you plan to feed your family?” She walked away, still talking to herself and shaking her head. “He says he is a writer. Wonders will never end.” Continue reading
The Power Of A Woman.
Her inner strength.
Her staying power.
Her soft skin.
Her sense of order.
Her zest for life.
Makes her irresistible to her man.~Praise George.