Imagining Words: Still Creating

Sometimes its very difficult for me to separate my writing and my researching. What I mean is that I tend to get sidetracked in the archives of my research, which have become very personal to me as they touch something in me that I thought that I had suppressed years ago. Once I find something fascinating about a particular piece of research which relates to my novel, I then become distracted. And when this happens, my procrastination sets in like an unwanted blemish smack bang in the middle of my forehead. Sometimes, trying to keep on top of solely my writing can be a real test for me; a challenge that I need to really tackle like a star football player doing his best to win a point for his team.

I'm not sure how I can master all of this. However, writing this specific book is in a way, cathartic to me; sometimes I fear of what I have written, then my fear transforms into self censorship, which I do not want at all. If this is the case, then I have to ask myself, what is the whole point of writing this novel? What is the point of writing in general if I am going to put a block on my creativity and my imagination?

  My words are my voice. A voice that I have suppressed like a hostage who has suddenly developed 'Stockholm syndrome'. A voice that I have always used to validate others in their creativity but not my own.  A voice that sometimes regurgitates and can't stop writing and then cancelling it out, because in the back of my mind I say to myself that I am 'not good enough'. I've thought long and hard about joining a writing course. There is a particular course that I want to join, but I'm am slightly hesitant, as I've not had great experiences before with writing classes. I became disillusioned with my writing, starting censoring myself again and basically stopped. My imagination and words became stuck in my throat and my 'voicelessness' started all over again like an unwanted mantra. But I guess now I really need to take a leap of faith and really start believing in me and start putting on my self validation armor.

 I just know that when my novel finally gets published - and who knows when, as I refuse to put a timescale on it - that the disclaimer is read by folk who will fully understand that the novel is a work of fiction and something that has sprung out of my fertile imagination. That it will not be taken personally, and see that my words are an imagination of events and that they come from my creativity which I refuse to stifle and censor.

So, I am still imagining my words and still creating a space for my words. I'm just taking the time to nurture and enjoy this time to read and research and let my imagination catch up with me.

Living without Lack: A Healthy and Positive Choice

When I look back at my life and what I have done, all I can do is widely smile to myself, like a Cheshire cat who is enjoying their top range of milk and cream.  Time and time again, I tell myself that I am living without lack, and instead, I choose to live with joy and abundance in my life.

Yes, I have faced many challenges -  and I am still facing them - but that doesn't make me give up. Instead, it drives me fiercely towards the goals that I share with my loved ones, and thus, making me further determined to achieve and maintain these goals.

The spirit of my creativity is currently a driving force and abundant energy in my life, and as I continue - even with tough challenges - I am still on my continual marathon . I know that sometimes I may become breathless,  but this alternates with a pumping rhythm of adrenalin, pushing me ahead; forcing me towards the finishing line of my destiny, which is definitely within tangible and tenable reach.

Living without lack is a healthy and positive choice for me, which I have started to slowly integrate into my mindset and ultimately, my life.

My mask has finally unglued itself and now I am starting to show my genuine authenticity, where I can be free to be me. With this I am finding that my writing is coming from a true sense of understanding; I'm embracing my writing like a familiar piece of clothing, where my material is becoming soothing, enjoyable and starting to fit and suit me extremely well.  The lack of burden that I now write with has been inspiring, and it has given me a sense of freedom.

The fear of my words no longer hold me hostage and my procrastination with my creativity has released my imaginary insecurities. 

Now, let me go and continue to run my marathon...

New Eyes: New Year: New Creativities: New Expressions

I realise that I have a book, in fact, several books inside of  me, waiting to verbally regurgitate all of the words that have accumulated in my mind, in my journals, where my words have gathered digital dust on my many hard drives that I have had over the many years. What has kept me procrastinating and stagnating? A four letter word which recklessly reared its ugly head countless times: FEAR. See, I have been AFRAID. I have censored, silenced and self edited my voice, until my voice just became an inner  monotone of  self speak that I always assured myself with when trying to overstand my reluctance towards writing. To be honest though, over the last few years, I haven't had the pure luxury of just sitting still and being IN WRITING, due to a thing called LIFE.. I have made excuses, relayed my thoughts, muted my voice and just 'got on with my life'. But all the time, I saw folk who were my peers - who were not necessarily better creators than me - forge ahead like runaway horses, beating their own finishing lines, and I am still standing and procrastinating at  the starting point.

Yes, its a new year, and no, this is not my new year's resolution, as resolutions are there to be severed, and to be honest, I have never really taken them seriously.. No this is my wake up call to my inner voice. My voice that has always pestered my spirit for creativity. My writing. My life. This is truly. my alarm buzzer moment when I have to write this year. Writing is my existence, my reality and ultimately, my life. Writing to me is healing and therapeutic. And I have had a few moments over the last couple of years where I need to let go. I see this as a prime point to start re-engaging with my creativity.

Now I will be looking and seeing my writing with new eyes. Revitialising my writing as new creativities and enjoying the new expressions that I feel my writing will engender for me in this new year.

Mid Life Crisis or Mid Life Motivation?

I feel that I'm at the crossroads on the road of my journey. It feels really exciting, but also, sobering at times. Because having a 'mid life crisis' sounds really ominous, and also seems that I have stagnated. Well, I haven't. Although I am in a kind  of reclusive mood, mainly because I am rethinking my strategies and recollecting of what my path in life is all about, I kind of know which direction my path will take me in 2012. I know all of this may seem a bit navel gazing,that that is how I feel right now.

I know that I have procrastinated so much over the years  in terms of my creativity. I guess because there is always this nagging  and irritating voice that constantly drips into my consciousness like a faulty tap, telling me  that I'm 'no good' and it is 'too late' to start writing my novel. I mean, I have undertaken gazillions of research and I have a basic outline of all of my characters - up to a point. However, something keeps on pulling me back into this murky abyss. I keep on telling myself that I have missed the boat and the tide of opportunity  has long gone, but this constant negative self speak  keeps me paralysed and then I just suddenly stop. Then my creativity dries up like a packet of  dessicated coconut. The words that I want to write disappear from the left side of my brain. I become STUCK once again. I become mute with uncertainty and deaf to the words I want to hear that gets my creative juices flowing. And therein is where the vicious cycle continues.

So, now, instead of labeling all of this my mid life crisis, I am going to start to embrace this as my mid life motivation. Aren't  words mighty powerful?

Now, off to scribe and create in my journal.

Rejuvenating and jump starting my creativity: Researching and writing my book

Creative Writing Story Structure - Advanced

After all of this heart heavy work that I have been partaking with self over the last couple of weeks, I have decided to up my ante on researching and finally to start to write my book. I'm going to keep the subject close to my chest for now, because I am excited by the challenge, and most importantly, I have never seen a theme addressed in a fiction book before.

Suffice to say, I need to sweep away all of my procrastination cobwebs, jump aboard the writing train and keep on creating .

I am really excited about this journey, because I have eliminated my fears and self doubts when it comes to my creativity. I guess the reason why I picked at myself and beat myself up was because of a lack of belief in my creativity. The other day I was looking at some of my poetry pieces that I wrote several years ago. They're dang good! I may share some in this blog. The most vital thing for me now is to rejuvenate and jump start my creativity and dive into my pool of creating words and painting scenes within my book pages, so the core audience I am writing for, can ultimately relate to the story that I will be writing.

Marching forward with my creativities!

All my life, I have struggled to call myself a writer. Sometimes I claim the title, then I snatch it back as quickly as I utter it, because I say to myself what have I ever published? My procrastination and self doubt of my words have pushed me into the pit where I keep on denying my God given talent of writing and creating with my words.Then I get stuck into a vacum, a cycle of inactivity. Then I beat myself up.
Many years ago, I used to belong to a writers/performers group called the Rhythm Writers. We were relatively well known on the Black poetry circuit in London. We'd get invited to places to recite our poetry. We even put on a couple of shows. I went down a storm with my recitals. Ahhhh... the memories! In hindsight, I should've really capitalised on all of this, but my life was going 100 mph whilst I was trying to catch up with life. I was always on the move with my children and trying to create an anchor for them where they could grow and where I could outgrow my awkwardness of knowing who I was and what I was going to become. Now that they have grown I am now snatching the title of 'writer' back. I will only call myself an author when I start believing in my words and start publishing again. I am just being realistic and at the same time, optimistic.
I've had this amazing idea for a non-fiction book (click on the title of this blog post and it will take you to a site I created for this idea), that has been kicking around for about five years. I'm not going to beat myself up about the lack of attention or the inactivity that I have had with this genesis of an idea, because to me, that is being self defeating. However, I've decided (especially living here in Netherlands and just having all the time in the world to create ) to kickstart the idea and revitalise this book and see where it takes me. I've already reached out to my perceived target, so again, I will see where it takes me. I have linked it, so if anybody is reading these words, go check it out!
Anyway, back to my marching forward with my creativities. I have had so many books over the years about tapping into my creativity, my writing. But, to be honest, they were, just, well, books. Self help books to help me kickstart, however, in hindsight, I was not ready - emotionally, spiritually, mentally and physically. Now, I am. I feel that I need to rely on my inner power... the Spirit/Goddess within me and just keep on marching to my rhythmic beat of my words. I came across this mantra, which I have adopted for my own mantra in context for my writing:

I am going to write a novel and get it published. I'm going to do it because writing a novel is worthwhile and because I have the talent to do it. I am going to do it because I have something to say to the world. I refuse to let anything get in my way.

I will say this to myself everyday. I have signed and dated it which gives me further credibility to own it.
Lastly,in context with my writing, I have to take heed and realise that humility is one thing, but FALSE HUMILITY can keep you from doing the things you want to get done. Yes, this makes a whole lot of sense to me, not only with the abandonment of my creative talents but also, my life.

Excerpt 'Memories Recalled: HerStory'

This is just a short excerpt on the story that I am still writing and developing.

She hated Sundays with a passion. Hated being paraded in front of the audience who always whispered behind large paper fans that her voice was angelic and heavenly, but was a pity that her father consistently played the field, kicking many home goals with some of the women parishioners.

She hated shivering in her vest and knickers in front of the parrafin heater after her hair had been preened and meticulously styled for the church audience. She detested the ritual of dressing up and being placed on a stage in front of the church audience, whose virture of attendance was due to their perceived social standing within the community. Religion was just a pause, an afterthought. Whispers on sacred lips on Sabbath and the rest of the week, with obscenities sprouting from the same pursed mouths.

They carried their leather bound Bibles as beacons of respectability and materialism. Discreetly checking for designer labels out of hoodwinked eyes, feigning innocence with their stares. With their Bibles, they turned the pages to quote relevant passages, which they thought integrated into their perfect, comfortable yet stagnant lives. She wasn't aware of the term 'hypocrite' until she became much wiser to it later on in life.

So, her hair became a foundation on how she would look like on Sundays. Slick and shiny like a motorcycle helmet. She often asked herself why she couldn't have straight and flowing hair so that she could bypass this weekly humilation. Why couldn't she voice her own valid opinions on how her hair and clothes were to look. She dreaded the way that her mother expressions quickly switched just like the UK weather, whenever she timidly questioned her overall authority. Surely, she had a voice, didn't she?

Some Sundays, she just wanted to run wild in the street, without hearing the mournful strainings of Jim Reeves. She wanted to run wild in the street with her hair uncombed and play 'house' with the Dermott children who lived two streets away. Her mother always told her that they had a satanical influence over her, in as much that they had no respect for their elders and the constant slip of curse words from their pouty mouths that could be heard in the next street. Each time when her mother came wearily dragging her feet down the street, she would just give her daughter that LOOK. Her expressions was ingrained and programmed into the girl's young mind and that was her signal to go home, where a hot bath waited for her, with home made herbs imported all the way from Nigeria. She hated standing there trembling and naked, whilst her mother poured scalding water - spiked with dettol -from the top of her head to cleanse away all her sins, as she used a rough straw scrubber, speaking in guttural tones that she didn't understand and which ultimately, frightened her. After this ritual, her mother would use this funny smelling black soap telling her that this would keep away the demons that always followed her after her playing with the Dermott children.
Her mother hated her playing with the Dermott children. In fact she wanted her to stay inside where she could study her Bible and recite them in a way which would bring a solitary smile to her tired face. But the girl had no choice. She was a latchkey chid, and her key hang stubbornly around her neck like a talisman. She had to make up her own entertainment, whilst her mother was on her hands and knees cleaning up the mess in corporate offices in the city.

Taiwo Ogunnaike
©2009