Originally posted on mikemuthaka.com
So you think you can write? Join the herd, stand at the back where you can’t be seen. You want to get to the front this is what you do.
Start a blog, right off the bat. You could start by writing long Facebook posts but that will only get you so much. WordPress, or BlogSpot, create a space, a theme you think is pretty and put up your first post. The one that you’ll have written in Word document, copy paste it. And then share. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, the whole shebang. Hey, why not create a Whatsapp broadcast while you’re at it. Your own little sacco of friends.
Now write. Get it in your head that the world needs to hear what you have to say; otherwise you’ll lose sight of it. Write stories that will rid the world of vapidity, stories that the world will inch closer to hear. Be the people’s herald. Be as hedonistic as you can with that blog. Keep at it for about a year and a couple of months, feeding on the modest feedback you get from family and friends.
Do you think that’s enough to dent the queue? HAHA, keep scything at that keyboard you bum. You’re going to be here a while.
And then one day it happens.
You wake up without one sock on your foot and no words in your head. Suddenly you can’t write anymore. Your well of words has run dry as a bone. It’s not like you don’t know how precarious this thing is to you. No, this has happened before. But not like this, before you were just lazy. It was easier to label it a block. This one is real, because you actually want to write. A Monday deadline is hovering above you, dangling failure along with it.
You lose sleep. The pressure bursts a pipe in your head. And your thoughts scatter like leaves in October. You entertain the idea of quitting; they don’t pay you enough for this shit anyway. You have this 1000 word story thing that you do for practice as often as you can. Your small journey to find your own voice, even that one you can’t do.
So one time you wake at 3am and switch on the TV. You flip through the channels and fall on a movie with a black cast. The night couldn’t get any more plotless. You’ve completely run out of ideas, so you decide to pen something small on how you got to this damned phase. You title it:
A Writer’s Guide To Losing it
First, stop reading. Convince yourself that you’ve grown, that you don’t need much help from other writers. Every piece you see, don’t even look at it twice, tell yourself you’re better than that. Stop reading. And stop writing all together. You can’t write today? Don’t struggle, the minute you realize you can’t put together a few sentences shut down the laptop. Tell yourself there’s time. That you’ll try again tomorrow. Flatter yourself that anyone who misses your work will come asking. You’ll lose the writing faster than you can say mampele rampele.
Replace books with TV. Lots of it. Go see what the Kardashians are up to these days, and Springer, and Steve Harvey. Hell, even that lousy Mov’t Ad, somebody’s got to watch it right?
Stop exercising. Stop running three days a week, stop doing push-ups. Eat, overdo it. There’ll be enough time to lose the belly.
You’ll know you’ve lost it when you become miserable. You start to fall off at the base; your identity seems to elude you. You sink into your a flaccid existence you never knew you had. This, thing that you’ve worked so hard for, it’ll start to peel off like old paint. This thing that’s meant to foot the bills, put food in your mouth, It will all start to crumble. You’ll feel alone.
Thankfully, you’re not. A guy will come along, drop by your Email. Say his name is Daniel Wahome, say he’s seen your blog and what you can do, and say he wants to help you.
You will lean closer and he will continue to say that he has this thing called Verby, a platform that he wants you to get on. A place where you can join a bunch of writers, who, like you, are still working the queue. A place where you can shed off your skin, grow a voice, say anything. No charge, no word counts no deadlines no pressure.
Got something you wrote three months ago and you want to reach a wider audience? Put it up on Verby. And you still retain ownership. Do you want to step off what you blog about? Try something different? Get on Verby, create a pen name, have fun with it.
Verby is the place to go for creative literature, a place where readers can get access to a large pool of writers, where writers can get the exposure they need. Check out Verby here. And tell a friend.
Published by Michael Muthaka