Day 29

I have 13 more pages to go. My fingers hurt I wonder why?

The interesting thing is, I had stopped typing coz the story was getting tiring to me.  I’ve heard the voice so many times. Yeah. But I fixed one chapter, and gave it a girl’s voice, it was all about shoes. After that the story was flowing right and I’m looking forward to see what is in the next pages. Funny thing, when people ask me what the story is about I'm not sure what to say. I got like, eh, it's a love story, no wait , there are different characters, and they all meet, no wait, why don't I just give you the book when I'm done?

--------------The oven timer went off and the smell of fresh baking filled the room when Anita opened the door. The vanilla queencakes smelt really good. Anita set them on a large tray, the red and white tea cloth made the cupcakes look so delicious, like you would see in cook books. She set a sufuria on the gas stove, threw in cardamoms and sprinkled in some tea masala. The water started to boil. She then threw in tea leaves and poured in milk, set two cups on the kitchen block and strained the tea into the cups.

The fragrant tea reminded Noor of his visit to Eastleigh town in Nairobi. The Somali style restaurant, Al Kwother served a good cup of cardamom tea.

“Go on,” Anita said, sipping her tea.

“Where do you keep the sugar?” He asked, standing up.

“Pole, I don’t take sugar in mine so I never remember to serve sugar.”

“It’s alright, my mother doesn’t take any too. I’ve been trying to take less but it’s no use, I love sugar.”

Anita laughed and got up to hand him a sugar dish along with two spoons. One for scooping, one for stirring. When she sat, she suddenly stood up, “would you rather have honey, I got some.”

“No, please, I’ll have the sugar. Thanks”-----------------

I spent the day with my friend’s 6 year old daughter and I have a lot of Chinese in my head, I’m listening to some Chinese tunes now but can't upload them, so let's listen to Lemon. I love this poem.

Hey, Soul Sister - Train . day 28

Today I’ve typed an upward of 3,500 words. I have 42, A5 pages left to type. It’s just 21 leafs but with writing on both sides.

It’s a nice story, Sublime Innocence and I’m hoping the publisher will get the same feel when I finally send the whole story.

They said I needed to work on the length of my sentences. I’m glad they pointed that out because I thought I was being  stylish with my poetic lines. No no it doesn’t work in novels. I will need to make the sentences a bit longer.

I already have big dreams. I can already see myself turning out books every other year and having them read in schools, ah, the places I would go with the money earned. Way I would treat myself to some books whenever I felt like reading something different (I don’t have a book to read at the moment so it's a constant thought).

On the other hand, depending on what the publishers decide, I might continue to wear out my fingers on one dollar re-writes until I'm 55 and with those the  farthest will be a trip to Thompson falls  then be satisfied with looking at pictures from different places on the Awake!

Today my friend’s son was playing the song and I got hooked the minute I heard it, love it. The other one of their song which  I've known and liked for years is Drops Jupiter by the same guys.

News

East African Educational Publishers want to see the rest of the story!

A bit of confusion

So I'm staying with my friends Pebbles and Babes and there's this creep who throws coins into their balcony. He has stopped throwing coins and he threw in a couple of music cds. Then the the blue box. Haha.

I read in the Venus and Mars book that when women are stressed they might use confusion to deal with that, it’s true. I’ve tried to start of day 27 but haven’t got past the first sentence. Sorry my people.

I posted the manuscript, along with the CD of the same. I had to queue twice at the post office,  I dashed up to Tesco to get water and grabbed some pens while I was in there. The queues were long in Tesco. I didn’t know people go shopping on midmornings. But it was mainly really old people and what I think should have been their foreign caretakers.  I was standing in queue for about ten minutes and was worrying that my number at the post office was nearing. I was desperately trying to make eye contact with this black guy who muffled a hello to me as I passed, he was moving closer to the counter. He didn’t look my way. So I just went up to his back and said hey, please could you do these for me and held out my half bottle of water, the  pens and a bank note.
He took them and I was wondering what to do with myself coz he said no to the money, I went round and waited on the other side. His sticker for one of his items(Vaseline) came off and the cashier, was trying very hard to figure out what could be done to solve this mountain of a problem. So the guy hands me my things, and I just walked off.  At the post office I was wondering should I have stayed and until he sorted out his Vaseline.
I haven’t done much towards publishing this week, but I’ve made plans towards that, like the portfolio I’ve been arranging. Pebbles is going to help with it, she's good in design, but she doesn't know yet, I left her a message on facebook because  her wisdom tooth has been growing all day so she slept the pain away.

I like people who are crazy enough to throw 'precious stones' into a stranger's balcony.

day 26, positive inspiration, positive thinking

Let’s see if you can guess what the colorful picture is about.

The black and white one is quite clear, so we talk about that first.

Since I haven’t got a reply from my publishers, I decided to escort the soft copy with  the old school style manuscript. Actually the idea crossed my mind as I was watching an episode of Judging Army a few weeks ago. When the writer guy, no wait that was something else. I was wondering why I’m confused. It was in the movie –In the Land of Women, the writer does a manuscript to give his grandmother to read. It’s bound and looks professional even though it is a fictional children’s story about a teddy bear.

 I thought, hey, I think I need something tangible. I will post this to the publishers tomorrow. I’m not sure; should I include a CD of the same or should I  refer them to my earlier e-mail? I am imagining there is a lazy editor somewhere who cannot be  bothered to check  the e-mail archive. But then again, I am a lady  writer who thinks I have made enough effort on this so far.   Tomorrow I will decide.

So the chocolate box. I recently wrote an article  titled- Massages and Spas in Bukit Bintang, the myth-  I came in second in the run and that was my consolation prize. It was a surprise actually, and I am  very happy with it even though I prefer potatoes to chocolates. It is the same fuzzy feeling I got  when BBC sent me baseball caps for my entries six years ago.

This kinda tells me, I have not lost my game.

 I still got half of the chocolates , if you want some just drop by.

25

The Swahili  translation sounds good. I was editing it today and I think it sounds better than the English  with the homely names and Swahili expressions.

I haven't done much toward my publishing efforts . I have a lot in my mind honestly,  I  even went to bed early last night but in the end I slept at the same time I sleep on normal days trying to figure out things. It's hard to connect with a lot of things running across the mind.

I know throwing myself into my stories can reduce the time I spend stressing  on things but somehow, until I am sure of what I must do, it's hard to see  clearly.

I signed up on docstoc.com  and  uploaded one of  my recent articles to see if I get an interested buyer. :)

24

I'm listening to Peggy Lee

"you give me fever

when you kiss me

fever when you hold me tight

Fever

In the morning

Fever all through the night"

I donno why I find it so hilarious. :)

I'm still not right but I have something to report. I received the Swahili translation for one of my children's story. I'm so grateful to Robert for his hard work. I hope this gets published so that I can have his name right there on the cover.

I did a review for the book I've been reading, this is how it goes:

If the song - Welcome to my Life by the rock band Simple Plan makes your back hair stand, reading this book will poke at your raw emotions just the same.

However, this is not the case until you reach the second last chapter. Most of it certainly feels like a –how- to- manual for women on how to treat their men.

A man reading it will nod his head, but for a woman, unless it is for comic relief, it will feel like a repetition of society’s popular rhetoric’s on interactions between men and women.

If you re looking for a general read, you might as well jump right into the last two chapters.

I liked the concept he calls ‘Displacement Love letter.’ This applies to everyone who wants to improve their lives by resolving pending feelings from their past. The advice is to imagine you could go back and deal with those feelings by writing a ‘love letter’ to those people involved, could be a parent or even yourself.

Other than that, I found the numerous subtitles and ‘clever’ quotes to be exhausting. It is repetitive, and the writer keeps referring to h is other books and videos. To me, it just sounds like cheap advertising.

In my opinion, an audio version of the book would be more in place since you could play it in the background as you do other thing.

I’ll give him one with his point that our culture doesn’t teach men what women want. As a woman, I nod to that.

John Gray has written many similarly themed books. As a certified therapists, he comes out knowledgeable on his subject. Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, yes we got that clearly, once again.

23

Here’s the plan.  I admit that my plans hardly ever work out. So I am accepting help. I sent some pages for proof reading. I’ve been editing news articles, and I think I’m getting better at it. It will possibly help in future.

Otherwise, I will stick to writing. I had two major ideas last night.

1.       Collect  12 of my heavy poems and do something with them

2.       There’s a book idea I sketched a few weeks ago, I will start on it and send to a    publisher.

You know they way I brag that I have no sense of fear. Yes it’s true, I can walk right into things.  However; today I got intimidated, and I smelt fear, and it wasn’t just because of the bunch of Asians facing me, ready to pounce. 
So I broke down  when one implied I must be ‘in business’ to mean the hooking business, “otherwise how can you survive here”, and he wasn’t any bit a looker either.

As I was going home feeling raw and bruised, with my head DJ playing-Goo goo doll's it's not my time,  the bus passed by a roadside shrine, and they were burning their incense and sacrifices.

I thought to myself. I’m so glad I don’t have to do that.

Happy are the people whose God is Jehovah.

Day 22: Sudanese Cultural Night

The desire to stand and dance was strong.

I felt it in my bones, in my blood, in the song through my ears.

Why do they say the caged bird never sings?

Of course it does, but no one hears its song.

But I was not sure a woman could or should, so I shook my  shoulders, snapped my fingers and tapped my feet. I scribbled notes and smiled, with a happiness I haven’t really felt in a long time.

The violin reached down into my core, patting, soothing and comforting every inch of me. The piano gave me rhythm and his voice, the sound of his voice took me back, back to places I’ve been and never been, nights by my grandfather’s date fields during the fortnightly festivals in Cush.  
Two men that moved the crowd more than anyone else. I’ll call them maestros for lack of more knowledge of these terms.  I gave them five stars.

My friend said to me-, 'come to the Sudanese cultural night, I’ll be the MC'. I wondered  how to get back, he encouraged, ‘get a few friends and take a cab back.’ So I tried a few but no one seemed to be free on weekday nights. But Bridget (http://bidgie.blogspot.com) said, 'you don’t have to miss it.'

I was ready to go back at the door when I didn’t feel very welcome. The tall black Arab said to me: ‘we have not started yet, and no drinks allowed, find a trash can’ and walked off. I was about to think –oh no you didn’t. But then I thought, he’s probably have had a terrible day planning all this, give him a chance.

The crowd was made up  of 90 percent Sudanese people , and the rest of us certainly felt like bystanders until the performances started. I really enjoyed the pantomime, and the guy that recited a funny poem, and the choral recital (‘Afihina mashuhuda’ not sure of the spelling) sent shivers of ecstasy down my spine. It reminded me of a cassette I borrowed from an Ethiopian in Eastleigh, Kenya, which I never returned. I should have, since those were memories of his country. I’ll track him down when I go back to Kenya.

When they mentioned political heroes, they didn’t mention  the guy most of us know- The late John Garang. But looking around I didn’t see a single ‘ Sudanese’ as we know them in Kenya. Tall, dark, with marks across their foreheads. No, everyone in that room was half this half that, and I bet all of them live in Saudi Arabia, UAE, Kuwait. That made me sad. Their ambassador was a turbaned fellow smiling from here to Khartoum, and after that all I could think of was how much he looked like the Kenyan vice president, Kalonzo. I also spotted a Tiger Woods look alike. 

There was a girl seated in  my row, screaming  'hey hey, yo!' She annoyed me because the ushers all looked like armed body guards and kept throwing dirty looks our direction, and she wasn’t Sudanese so  we might have been marshaled out without a second thought.

They finally(yes finally) mentioned John Garang, when they introduced  the southern tribe dance, which was funny but I felt like they were making fun of them. I need to look for a Southern Sudanese and ask them if they dance Lingala. 

I have some kind of solidarity with the Southern Sudanese. As much as I am a land of Cush wannabe, I feel protective over the Southern Sudanese since they are as much Kenyans as the Turkana people, so no one dare say anything against them.

There were side attractions too, like one (MC) who came out of  the crowd and started to rap, mentioning his name the way they do ‘call me, J, Just call me J, all my people,  hands to the DJ.’ Haha. That was funny, especially when some high wired teens jumped on stage and the guards had to escort them down.

There was a lot of standing and sitting and clapping too. But all in all, I went home on a high like you can see from my lead. It was a wonderful night, I’m glad I went. I also feel happy when I see children, and there were plenty of them to go around.

The MC, Ahmed Tag did an awesome job at it, he did the English, and his partner, a fast talking girl in a flowery costume complemented him in Arab perfectly.

DISCLAIMER: these are just a writer's opinions 

I copied some of my formerly published works to make a portfolio, and I will share with you a poem I wrote as I listened to the a fore mentioned maestros. My camera died   on me so I just snapped one picture.

 

songs to remind me of my lineage

I just came from a Sudanese cultural night. It was very intriguing. I will postpone day 22 a few hours because I'm spaced out and I don't think I'll do a good job making a blog entry.

Day 21

Hey,

I planned to proof read some more this evening but my friend said she can do  that for me so I’ll leave it  to her.  I spent last evening swimming and learning gymnastics from my friend’s 9 year old.  She was surprised that I could do a double over, said I was the first flexible adult she’s  met in a long time.

I ran away from  my life at the first suggestion by my friend to go over for the evening yesterday, and ended up reading 2 chapters of –spy dog- and 2 chapters of a self help book about getting rid of bad habits. It said that laziness is the closest you’ll ever get to near death experience, I thought that was absolutely hilarious but true.

The reminder to take at least one and a half liters/litres everyday was helpful, otherwise you can get irritable and stressed and your brain doesn’t work as proper as you’d like it to because you get ‘liverish’. That means your liver gets tired of running due to little water in your system. It also said that the quality of our thoughts can determine the quality of our lives. I thought, nice, I can see how much quality my life has .It was talking about positive and negative thoughts but this morning I made a promise to talk to someone mature for assistance with my life :D, in future.

And as I was reading another point about getting enough rest, my friend’s son, who was getting his hair cut, and got a bald spot when he moved and was complaining very loudly, said something interesting.

The world has evolved right? So why don’t we have 12 midday to 12 midnight days, since no one seams to sleep before twelve anyway?   8-5 might have worked when we didn’t have computers and the internet but it sure doesn’t do anyone  any good now. So he woke up at midday this morning, maybe to prove his point.

I’ve gotten over my shifting, and I will be shifting again tomorrow(true nomad blood).

I’ll type some more of the novel chapters since I have a willing proof reader and make a portfolio. of my life, I'll tell you my plan.

Btw. Someone asked me whether the novel was set in an African setting or modern ‘like Malaysia’ and I thought about it for as long as I thought about the taste of the water melon  I was going to buy  from the market yesterday, and the seller was surprised at my deep thoughts over a melon and left his son to deal with me as he unpacked the rest of his fruits, so I told her- you’ll have to read to find out.

day 20

In the book, Men are from Mars and Women from Venus, it talks of a point in a woman's life when her wave
crashes. My wave has been heading to the shore all week and today it finally crushed.

I was moving house and feelings of helplessness and sadness took over.
I  felt bad to leave my birds- I know they'll miss me. I also met new people, some pleasant, some I admired, some I watched from a distance. And even though the condominium I stayed has a bad name from the police raids it gets  every other day, I didn't experience any trouble, on the contrary, everyone I crossed paths with was nice. I'll miss the lake too, and the boy who wore jeans and stripped shirts and nearly missed the bus all the time.

So when I got to my new place, I felt heavy with fatigue, sadness and a river.
But my friend said she'd come online and chat with me after work. She's been my friend since high school and always makes me happier.

I read a few chapters of Anne of Green Gables. It's an amazing book. It gives me such an imagination.

Yesterday I did some more editing and proof reading, not as much as I would like but I'm getting somewhere.

I will do more and talk less, rather type less words..

day 19

"Are you going to maybank?"
"Yes."

So when I saw him take a different route I stood up and walked to the front to ask him again.

"Are you going to Maybank?"
"No"
"You said. You. Were . Going . To . Maybank." I said through gritted teeth.

"Okay okay, sit , sit, I go."

I sat behind his seat fumming and preparing for war. Here we were very close to Putrajaya Central, yet I was supposed to be a half hour journey in the opposite direction. We got to the station and everyone alighted. I didn't move an inch.

He drove off at 200km per hr, and I was thinking wo hoo!He's taking me back to Maybank. Then I thought, oh no, maybe he's a suicide bomber and is going to crush
the bus into the first bridge column. So I sat silently and hoped.

Ah, then he turned and I saw Maybank.

"Terima Kasir!" I said to him and flew out of the bus.

He drove away, back to the station. Perhaps cursing me, perhaps cursing himself for trying to be clever.

I was smiling really hard, it's unusual for that to happen. The least I expected was to be kept packing at the station until the next bus came half an hour later.

Chapter 5 and 6 is going pretty well. I need to edit the punctuation since I've changed the narrator to third person. I expect to have more time next week I will finish them off and start tying the rest of the chapters. There's no response yet from the publishers. I have to wait 6-8 weeks for them to have a look at it and decide whether to publish. I expect response on one of them, which I sent 7th April soon. Meanwhile, I applied for a copy writing job in one of the Malaysian publications.

I'm tired to the bone marrow, and I will be shifting again on Friday. You'd think I'd have got used to it by now but every time I have to move, which is every few weeks it always feels like a major life shift, which it is in a way because I'll need at least a week to adjust at my next place.

18

I was invited to tea last evening and couldn't be bothered to come back to the
house. English tea means pies and roast and gravy and all that kind of thing. I call it super.

I have to go out in a while to fill out forms- that seems like my
career now, feeling up forms. I do hope they'll give me some forms to fill
for food stamps soon, that I wouldn't mind filling.

Anyway. I've been telling myself I should wait until evening to write this when I'm calmer but I've decided I never followed reason at anytime anyway so I might as well write now when I have fire in me. It could be from the episode of The Avatar- the last air blender me and my friend's kids watched this morning, it could be my hormones acting up,or it could be the fighting mood that has possessed me the last few days.

I woke up on Saturday raging. I was supposed to go out study with some kids but it rained and I was glad it did coz I was obviously in no position to sit and tell kids - no, we must restrain ourselves when people anger us, like the Great Teacher-

So I stayed home and edited the things I told you a couple of days ago, what someone called a Scotsman bad English. All that does to me is remind me that English is a foreign language. After the first page I can't tell who's worse off, me or the Scot.

Then, I typed a query for a children story to phoenix publishers in Kenya.
I grew up with their books- Beautiful Nyakio, The sun and the wind. Those kind.I'm hoping they'll like my idea.

I have to say though, I don't feel very enthusiastic.

I am afraid I might not get responses from these publishers.

I also feel a bit down, and this is my opinion, but I'm not just saying but I've been with people, and when everyone is talking, I listen and I watch and observe get called slow. I have realised that I come from a society that doesn't believe in girls' education. Yes. I always thought that was the North Eastern people habit but oh no. And since I got this understanding,I get it now.

I will write more sense in the next entry. I cleverly uninstalled my Ms. Office from my computer.
I just clicked on it ' because I thought I didn't need it' now I have to do my typing on notepad.

Computer for DUmmies, anyone?

Day 17, Calm down my heart, life is steps.

Three things took my breath away today.

A sunset so red, so round, so big, so confident , like a sun should be.

A small red flower which I later saw was actually orange not red and I stuck it to my hair all day

A lad that wore a black suit, a white shirt and thin orange tie. He reminded me of a chief as I imagine they looked  7 generations ago. Tall, proud, with a good color combination.  

I had an urge to write last night because I had had a really extra-ordinary day. I don’t remember most of it now but in the morning I was really bashed up with little sleep and self pity.
Around three in the afternoon I walked into a Chinese restaurant and was looking at the food asking what is this what is that. So the guy packed me a full plate of handmade noodles with beef and lettuce. I was getting out my wallet to go pay at the counter. I asked what the  combination was called, he said –mee tarik. Then he looked at me and said, no need to pay lah, just have it, but come again. You should have seen my smile. I went to sit in one of the metal chairs feeling funny like you feel when you’re in a day dream. I happily ate the meal . I had some money, but not really. What I mean is, I had rm 10. The meal was Rm.6 and honestly, that much on a single meal would blow off my “budget” completely.

 I was remembering the verse in Isaiah 55:1) Hey there, all YOU thirsty ones! Come to the water. And the ones that have no money! Come, buy and eat. Yes, come, buy wine and milk even without money and without price.

And I was smiling thinking, Jehovah hit me with that one to get me off my self pity.

Today I printed out chapter four and five of the novel to proof read. For chapter five, I wrote it in first person but I‘m going to change it to third person narration. A suggestion I read from a book about changing the point of view of a chapter. I edited chapter four and since it’s only 800 words, I will patch it up with another part I haven’t typed but would fit in as chapter four.

Last night I felt the temptation to send in  an old poetry manuscript from 2006. It’s complete, over a hundred pages, with illustrations and five different cover designs, all by my dear friend Ken. It has poetry dating back to year 2001. Since  my writing has changed  to a certain degree, when I went through it it felt a bit basic and too contemporary but I guess there is no harm since at that time I really felt that was super work. I’ll write a query and decide whether to send it.

Otherwise, it has been a good week, even though I did a few things which thinking back I told myself- Some of the things you do Ciss,can only be explained  with medical terms. That felt satisfactory enough, especially after hitting my knee on a crossbar someplace. Don’t ask what I was doing. Just that sometimes I imagine I’m Catherine Ndereba.

I took a walk to the lake and watched some fishermen, they had a big net and caught about three small fish for the half hour I was there, and some frenzied guys on a motorbikes were asking- you alone ah? No friend ah? I wished to show them a video called cat calls by  Amalia Ortiz, try find it on youtube it's funny.

 I  enjoyed the wind and imagined I was at the beach.

Moyo wangu tulia, maisha ni hatua

day 16

(the art in us)

I totally forgot today, until I got a 'kind' reminder from one of my faithful readers. My days have once again ran into each other. I spent the afternoon at the 6th Islamic Economic Forum at Kuala Lumpur Convention Centre. I’m not Muslim but I live in a Muslim country. My friend was screening some short documentary films he made in Thailand and had some free passes.
There was art, live music, comedians and I got to talk to one Mohmd, can’t spell his other name and I didn’t write it down. He is an artist who paints with his toes.

I came home and checked my mail to see if the publishers replied, not yet. But, I got news from Robert, he’s translating one story to Swahili, he finished it, and will be sending it for me to have a look. :)

I also was thinking about my old journals, whether to get rid of them or read through them first. I tore off the cover from one to use it in one of my poetry books. So I am not sure, the journals have some deep stuff which could be turned into a novel, but on the other hand the very reason that I had those thoughts written down and not spoken might mean they are not really meant for public. Maybe I should concentrate on typing out the rest of the novel in case the publisher wants to read it.

I read a few more chapters of Men are from Mars Women are from Venus in the bus and learnt that- the secret of empowering a man is never to try to change him or improve him- aha ha. My point exactly.

I have a list of undone things, I'll see how I manage before the weekend. My housemate vanished and it's not funny staying alone. Well, unless it's your house and you're a single person, or a widow/er , but then the house would be small and you might have  a pet....
I've been feeding the two birds that live under the tiles. Not feeding, more like leaving scraps for them . I left them pear pieces and some snack from an Indian shop. They were making a lot of noise this morning standing by the food but it doesn't seem touched. Maybe they don't like that kind of food. And i find myself  wishing I was an old lady with 5 cats and a parrot.

DAY 15- click send

I woke up annoyed and disturbed. It was too hot last night and I kept waking up to turn on the air conditioner higher and lower, to open the doors then close and other similar night activities.

So as I made tea and thought about my life I realised I need to change my perspective. I need to work harder. I need to be more courageous. I need to do something to assist others instead of waiting for people to assist me all the time.
I Lack fire. I’m going to get fired up.

I will do my work. I will finish things I need to finish. I will do things a little more faster. I don’t have to worry about being out in the street. Jehovah hasn’t let that happen, why should I worry now.
I will write more. It is the only thing I have passion for, the only thing I can do everyday.

I also realized that I need to love more. I don’t love enough. Yeah, it hit me right in the face. I am afraid of being hurt and disappointed and ‘losing myself.’ So I will love more, starting with the ones that surround me. I don’t necessarily mean romantic love. Basic love which everyone practices.
So filled with this new fire. I took out my book queries and stories and read them over. I got out my book of addresses and started to type.

I sent the novel to East African Publishers. I sent one of the children story to Ladybug Malaysia.
There can only be three answers.
Yes, No , Maybe. Let’s see what they give me.
If they don’t reply . I will call them to find out what answer they’ll issue.

Day 14

There is someone that wakes me up at four every morning by banging their door very hard. Usually I just lay and try to go back to sleep with difficulty but today I stayed on. It was very dark. If I knew who it was, we would not tell each other good(I’d give him a piece of mind).

I typed the query to the editor, a synopsis, and table of contents. I went through it a couple of times and it felt ready to be sent.  So I composed an e-mail and sent.

To my cousin. If you know my cousin this is as good as sending to some guy in specs at a publishing company. When I finished highschool and was very sensitive and conscious with my looks, it was my cousin who told me- You can never be a model, you don’t have any boobs. What followed was pure circus, a few had dropped jaws, others were waiting to see what would burst (what would happen)in the room, I was swirling, insulting and threatening. My uncle lit a cigarette and went to dig a hole behind the house.

He was right anyway,  so sending my manuscript to him was the bravest thing I did all week. He’ll probably look at it and ask me-why don’t I concentrate on writing love poems?

I also sent it to my friend Estah, because she likes a good story and will correct me. She told me the names are not all that so I need to find  good names for a novel.  

I did not meet the deadline, but I’m happy I have the query, the synopsis, chapters 1,2 and 3 and a  scope of how long the rest might take to type.

In  a sense, I did beat the deadline since I am just waiting for the critics then I can forward the e-mail to EAP.

This morning I remembered something about my first language. It reads this way  B C D E G H I J K M N O R T U W Y The vowels are a e i o u ĩ ũ , and we have syllables like nga, ngwa, twi, ng’e  ng’we, ndwa, ng’u. I was trying to spell the greeting – wĩmwega, are you fine? To a European, it was like me trying to write Tamil.

I will send the manuscript  this week, when I have  no doubt that I’ve done my best to present  myself well.

What I don’t understand is their asking for a picture. I remember the last time I did some freelance.   Meeting my boss in person cost me my job, somehow. He didn’t think someone my age should write a society column. As if we don’t have google to tell us everything. So I’m not happy about being asked for my picture, what does my picture got to do with anything? I don’t even have one decent picture to send to publishers, They should say what type of posture, not just passport size, I’m not applying for and accounting job

 I'm considering sending them these.

  pictures can bring long stories, you might now hear them asking for  a chromosome test based on the pictures. That will be the end  my career.

day 13- The clock is ticking.

Wohoo! When the alarm went off this morning, every part of my body was paining. I’ve been taking too many stairs, typing too many words and my nerves have been on edge all week. The whole night I was trying to think how to connect chapter two to three. So feeling frustrated last night, I just typed what I said to myself would be the ending of chapter three.
I woke up and read the last chapter and that got me right up. I gave myself a part on my back for that. It’s been years and I have forgotten how the story ends. I am glad I decided to type it out myself because as I type, I’m getting new ideas and pulling out things that don’t feel up to date. When I finished I typed it out and this man asked if he could read when I said it was a story. He read and said- nice, I feel like I’m reading a novel, he said and I gave him the link to my blog.
Pease don’t ask me why I’ve waited this long to decide on the publishing house to send the manuscript to. I have three alternatives.
East African Publishers (I sent them short stories before but they were interested in a novel. I like the idea of having a book published by them because they have published one of my favourite writers, Barbara Kimenye. Although it could be the logo they put on the back cover. I’d like to have that on my novel.
Macmillian. I was going to send to them but I’m wondering what if they make it into a –Trend setter- the trendsetter books are good but the paper yellows with time. And Also every time I think Macmillian I think of school text books, Malkit Singh type of books.
Story moja, I already sent them a children story. I am not sure about them, I have a feeling they look for a particular kind of writing.
So we try East African Publishers.
I haven’t typed the query, now that the date is actually here, I wish for time to drag a bit, like right now I’m listening to Colbie Caillat. Earlier on I went to sit by the lake and throw stones inside. It doesn’t sound nice like when you throw a stone into a dam. But when you throw it a bit further away it makes nice ringed vibrations.
I will let you know how the send off goes. I’m anxious and worried about typos but that again is an excuse. I will look over chapter two and three again just to make sure.

Today I confirmed that I don't like speaking on the phone. Usually I need to think about something, and on the phone there isn't much chance for that so it annoys me. I am a texter.
 I'll sleep now, this week I've done things that would normally take me two months to finish. You get the picture .

The lake

Day 12

I was feeling a bit mixed up today after standing in the bus for a long time. I went to sit in a park next to a lake and had a nice thought.

I will fight you life,
Not with arms and fists and deception,
But with every tear, and every brain cell.


Every nerve in my body is strained, and I'm blinking with sleep, but it's a dozen days and I need to report.
I have some good news for you. I showed one of the children story to my friend's ten year old(he's an accomplished violinist) I was not very confident about giving it to him, he can be blunt, like most children are, and after reading for a while he came to me and asked
- why does the bee have a wig?-
Haha, A typo, which I quickly corrected.
As I was leaving, he came to me and said.

-You want to sell this right?-
I nodded and he said
- I'll design the cover-

The images I had in my mind went like this: an African Writer, a Chinese Cover Designer, an Indian Illustrator.
To complete the math, I was wondering is any of you out there from the Middle East, Europe, Australia,Oceania, USA, Antarctica? It would add a nice touch if,I had reviewers from different parts of the globe.

Another good news is chapter one of the novel is complete now. I re-arranged the words and paragraphs and gave someone to read. It does sound better now I must say.


Side note, the short haiku doesn't sound quite right but what I mean is, I will give life a fair fight, I won't just give up, give in. I will stand up and face it up squarely.

Day 11

There is nothing hard as writing a query , I found out last night. I copied some sample queries and was trying to structure them in my own words. I wrote three. One for the novel and two for a short story to two publishers. One in Malaysia and another in Kenya. I’m thinking I will also pitch the Swahili translation to other Swahili speaking countries like Oman, just a thought.

Like I promised, I need to have a good report on the 15th. I will beat this.

While I was looking over the novel, I changed some character names and also the arrangement, I must say it sounds a little better even to myself. I had this thought, Here I am talking and talking about publishing. If an interested publisher said to me hey you, can I have a look at your things? I would start to run around looking for my novel parts which are in various locations in my computer . and the chance might never come again. Like when I got a chance to speak to one Editor of the Saturday Standard, In Kenya. I must say it was embarrassing. I was near their building one morning when I decided to go in to their offices. I didn’t actually think I’d get to see him in person so it was just me and my words. I didn’t even have an idea which section I wanted to write. That’s embarrassing, I shouldn’t even be saying it . But it’s been 5 years so that’s history. I’m learning from it.

So along with sending one manuscript out this week, I will get organized.
The other thing is I realized that self publishing is not going to work. I don’t have any money so that is just one of those hopes and dreams . I will put that aside and concentrate on trimming and beautifying what I already have. If the publishers say no, then I guess I will just keep writing and maybe one rainy afternoon my children(If I don’t get published I’ll probably just go on and find a husband and start a family) will find my papers in an old file in the storeroom and say to me :Gathoni, you didn’t say you write? (they’ll call me Gathoni when they see the name on the manuscript. Or maybe they’ll call me Gathoni all the time because they won’t take me seriously enough to call me mother)And maybe they will want to use them for their school compositions since they won’t have an imagination , I figure they will want to be accountants and other such serious things-

I’ve been reading a bit, doing plenty of research too, there is something about reading that (I wanted to say, that improves the thoughts and viewpoints but I think this is not yet proven and ‘improve’ to me is a different interpretation :D) Let’s just say reading is good for all of us.
So this season I’m running. My aunt(tata) would tell me when I asked why she was always running here and there. ‘ũgateng’erio nĩ maku. To mean, your own affairs will make you run.

Day 10 came too soon.
But, I wrote four out of the 5 articles to save my life. Now I wait to see if anything gives birth(comes out of the hard work)
I edited chapter one of the novel, rearranged everything and today I’m taking it for a second opinion before I send to a publisher. I’ve realized I’m not as good as I thought in making story openings, but I know someone who can tell me right out what she thinks.
I’ve read a third of Anne of Green Gables and have completely abandoned Venus and Mars but will be getting back to it as soon as I take care of other responsibilities.
I also printed out some of the children stories, and planning to place them with some kids to get an opinion. I got a response form my friend who is a school teacher, she says there is a market for children’s books as long as they are colourful and cheap.(I should get the black and white concept out of my mind).

On other matters, this week I appreciate my mother. It is a pity that it took me this long. But I guess that’s another good thing to come out of this journey ‘to find myself.’ In all my years of basic education, primary and education, I never once got sent away from school because of fees balance. My mother did a cleaning job and every month sent granny my keep. At that time I always thought- she ought to, she’s my parent.

I never knew how it felt to be kicked out class, or be told in front of people- you owe the school, or be threatened that you’ll miss your exams, in this case, have your visa canceled. Now I know the feeling so well. I understand the sacrifices my mother made.

When my books are published, I hope she can take a break from her cleaning job to visit, London, Japan and Bangkok-her favourite places.

Day 9

I’ve been struggling with this since 7p.m, it’s now half past ten., I don’t feel like there’s much to report.
My associate, Lluvia, who is sketching illustrations for the stories will bring them tomorrow. I’m looking forward to looking at them. I also rearranged one of the stories, which I already sent to Story Moja for consideration. My friend suggested I make a better opening. So I think I’ll translate this version and pitch it either to the same publisher or another.
Thing is, I’ve done a lot of mouth work. Telling all my friends with young children that my books are coming out soon, and they all say, yes we shall buy. Actually, when I tell people I’m going to publish books they say- oh really, we’re waiting. And I know some who have been waiting very long.
Last night I did some serious work. I opened a Paypal account to facilitate the online publishing idea. Spent the entire evening squinting at the screen trying to find out where the code is. I still don’t know how to get the code. If anyone knows, do tell, the instructions on their website didn’t help me.
Three years ago when I was ready to publish, I had three sponsors. I still owe one his share. I refunded the others when the publisher asked for more than he had asked initially. My friend Ken put in the sketches and background and designed so many covers according to my whim. To this day I still feel, what a delay, this book should be out in print.
I just need to get away from my day dreams for two weeks and I’ll have something tangible. That’s why I have this blog. This is my watchman. I’m also cooking, to help me to concentrate. Well, at least that’s what I hope it will accomplish. I think of what to combine and then stand there and wait for the food to cook. The days of burning food to a crisp are fading into the past. So today I made a potatoes and a sardine curry, it turned out better than I thought even though I forgot to add garlic and lemon as I had planned to and nothing burned.

Day 8

I would like to go for a coffee with an artist. We’d talk about the structures, the waiters and make up stories about the people next table. Then we’d meet a year later and pick up from where we left.

This morning I was thinking about one time I visited an artist’s house. There were paintings and montages , sculptures and music. I drunk the coffee offered and looked around feeling quite happy.

Out of the 6 lists I made of things to do last week, I ticked off 35 of them. That’s something. I know I run around aimlessly panicking and running out of breath, but at the end of the day things get done.

So this week I have a different list.
1. Collect together the first three chapters of my novel,
write an introduction letter and send to the publishers by
15th March.I mean May.
2. Make inquiries to online publishing organizations.
3. Write the so said 5 articles to save my life
(Will tell more about this in future).

Please remind me if I forget. This is not the first time I've had a deadline . The only difference is this time, whether I do this or not will determine what my life will be like in a few months.

I’ll make myself a dress with the material that remained after making the therapy bags. Yes I got paid for them, and bought airtime to call home later tonight.

Day 7

Aren’t they just cute!
I hope their owners will think the same. I completed them this morning, took me exactly one week.
Last night was short, I didn’t write for many reasons and excuses. I got home and every part of my body was aching. So bad the sewing I did went all wrong because I was so sleepy and I had to re-do it this morning.

Most of today was spent Googling publishers and connections. I can’t say I’ve accomplished much. Been Trying to find an illustrator I worked with three years ago, he worked for Mountain Top Publishers, but all I can remember was his phrase-shika hadithi, although I’m not sure, it might have been kamata hadithi. The reason is, the company published children’s stories, so I could ask him something to that effect.
The other option is to publish online. I’m warming up to the idea. Let me Google some more to get comfortable.
Somehow I feel disappointed with myself, I think it comes from living alone. It gets to you.
I tried attracting some birds to feed at my balcony, two started coming and then I thought- I’m only in this house for a few weeks. So when they came today I just looked at them and I felt more lonely than ever.
There was an article I was writing , about beauty cosmetics for a beauty magazine called Extravaganza. It didn’t add up.
This week has been extremely exhausting and with the authorities threatening to deport me each day; it’s no wonder I feel blank and blur.
Also, my design project is not making me feel happy at all. I showed the designs to Lewis-he’s a system’s admin and he said-Let me work on them this weekend, yeah, don’t trouble your little head-
I drunk a ginger ale yesterday, the first one in Malaysia and it was a total fail. Tasted like something you drink from a bowl. I miss the Kenyan one. Reason why I mention this is because every other drink I’ve tried got me hooked. Here’s a first I never want to try again.

Day 6

I took these pictures on my way home after watching some men using stones and sticks to catch fish in a drain. It was interesting to watch. Then I saw these pools on
the grass and they reminded me of childhood. We'd never get these in my grannys' farm, but in her friend's farm , when it rained, the fields would have these and uncle Kamande would take me to fish for tadpoles,and wade in the water. It was very exciting.
Today will be a short one. I lost a friend last week, she was buried today. I didn’t attend the funeral. The hang ups of being away from home.
Pretty sad, she left a sweet little boy. But we are not without hope.
I got a response for my short story this morning. Not a very good one. My opening was not catchy enough, and my character was not well described. Any ‘not good enough’ report floors me for a few hours, so I was sulking for most of the day. I went and borrowed Anne of Green Gables in a addition to what I’ve been reading- Men are from Mars, women are from Venus. May be I’ll be more imaginative after reading Anne, the second movie was excellent, and from the few chapters I read today, the book is just as good.
I started a story about little ordinary stones, but I got lost in the middle when I saw someone looking over my head to read it.
The story I sent in for editing was also returned, and my friend says it’s a nice story but bees don’t drink tea and eat salad. Hmm, is that good or bad? I guess my imagination went a little too far this time.

DAY 5

I almost forgot to write. It’s been a busy day. I’m back to stitching bags for a living, so I’ve been sitting on the floor all day. I also got a proof reading gig and that’s what I’ve been doing this evening, even though it’s like paraphrasing, not easy but good, and if it’ll buy me food for two days, I’ll bring out allt he Longmans and Macmillan’s.
My friend Robert has taken the challenge to help me translate my stories into Swahili, so I sent him one story which I edited(punctuation and word arrangement) last night. I also sent it to Lluvia for the Illustrations. Why didn’t I translate it myself? I tried, but after not speaking Swahili or even Swanglish for two years, I have forgotten even basic words like what’s color brown in Swahili?
Sewing is calm and relaxing, it’s also a chance for deep thoughts.
I might be full of regrets and worry and wondering- what was I high on when I said yes I’ll go to Malaysia, but now I begin to realize the reason I said yes. Everyday I learn something new about myself I never knew. Like I always thought I was the nicest, most reasonable, likable and kind person in the universe.
Wrong.
I also had the vain idea that I’m clean and neat.
After sharing apartments with different people and personalities. I begin to realize, oh no, I still need a few more years to work on this and that.
If nothing else, Malaysia is a training ground.
After this, I won’t be any richer, younger or prettier.
Hopefully, I’ll be more easy to put up with. Perhaps I’ll stop staring at my own nose all the time.

DAY 4

When I woke up today, the first thing that hit my mind was market. Could be from the fact that I was listening to some old tunes from my village, the same ones you hear when you go to the market. So nothing else was keeping still in my mind because of market. None of my friends were feeling me. When the sun set I set for the market and bought veggies. I got cheated by the onion guy. He weighted my collection when I was notlooking and I’m so sure that was not a kilo, he cheated me in broad daylight. But I had a nice bargain at one stand where two guys were screaming satu ringgit satu ringgit, 1 Ringgit, 1 Ringgit!The normal hawker style. For the sole reason that I asked if they have Timun. Timun is cucumber. They stopped screaming for a while to ask me how come I can say Timun. They would have packed everything for me free and waved goodbye with open mouths.
Literary wise, my friend Tlotlego says she can proof read the story I typed the other day. And she ought to, I named one of the characters after her- wait until she finds out.
Last night I slept late doing research on an article. It’s a challenge which will help my brain expand a little and hopefully squeeze out some creative juice.

I found out something interesting concerning left handed people. Did you now that light bulbs, screws, scissors, table drawers, pocket shirts and even kitchen knives are all to the advantage of right handed people?

I wish we were colonized by the Chinese. Imagine falling in love in Chinese. Wo ai ni.
In Kikuyu, O, ai, niÎ? Aca.