Writing is nothing easy. When you get into it you must be prepared to make your own slave. Am not sure that makes sense. Writing is difficult.
So it is three months since I was here last. With all the good plans I had for “bonarerimaisiba” in 2015. She was my number one new year resolution. I needed to customize my domain. Do posts twice a month. Commercialize the whole thing. I went as far as bargaining for the design and domain hosting. God knows what happened. Writing is a hustle. Needs too much dedication.
Maybe I was out there doing other things. Better things. More important things. Priorities. Plain lie! I know I have been busy doing less constructive things than I should have done here. Maybe I could have saved a life that was lost to suicide. Maybe I could have saved a relationship that is now a by-gone case. Maybe I could have saved my own relationships.
I learnt from a friend that the things I write here make sense, at least to the people who care to read them. People make different choices, different meanings from the the same scripts. We were coined differently. We read messages in diversified ways. And make our won interpretations, maybe customized to suit our needs at the moment. Writing gets more complex.
I read so many other blogs. A blogger friend Shiku Ngigi introduced me to an awarding winning blogger’s site that never disappoints. Biko Zulu. These two are my inspirations. I read everything they write, word after another. Biko Zulu does a bit long posts, I must confess. But I always find time to read his posts. Even when I am too busy to pick calls or even respond to text messages. It is that serious. I one day want to be like him. Dedicated and famous. Who doesn’t want to be recognized for what they do anyway?
All said and done. I am back. I needed something to bring me back. Something in record that I actually struggled to get where I will be, in a few (whatever that means). That when I will have beaten Biko and taken the award of creative writer from him I will refer you here. One step at a time. One day at a time. I will be there.
Ps. I write to put food on my table. I write to settle my bills. I write to clothe. I write to earn a living. So when I am not writing here, I am writing elsewhere. Undisclosed.