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.