Today I celebrate the penning of the first three hundred and sixty-three words of my non-fiction book on the assassination of Godwin Agbroko, my friend, mentor, cashcow and yes...father.
He is pictured here at an outing with his wife a month to his death three days to Christmas 2006.
At 2:03 am this morning, this was one reason to be thankful for the insomnia that I have battled for the past three years since he was killed. It has been a horror to watch these thoughts do the merengue in my head, start a foxtrot about my clavicle just when I need my wits about me in public, and beat out a vigorous makossa routine in my brain just when I think I have achieved sanity.
But today, asides the big 363, I have a name for the book, I have mapped out sequences, and see light at the end of this tunnel. It is a surreal experience, to feel this way. And not food, wine or that comes close...only journalism has brought about something akin to what I feel right now.
I also have to thank Temi, Adaobi Nwaubani and Tolu Ogunlesi especially for taking the time to talk to me on making a start, any start...instead of bottling it all inside. I thank and plead with my mum in advance, for I will be winding her up and taking her to times she would rather forget but I want to make certain the world doesn't.
This is a small step, painful in turns...I do not guarantee any speedy churn of words, because this is non-fiction; it has my flesh and blood all over it...but I can guarantee that my three friends were right; once you start....you won't want to stop.
Will go easy on the celebratory booze tonight so insomnia can once again, make a fastidious writer of me.
R
At 2:03 am this morning, this was one reason to be thankful for the insomnia that I have battled for the past three years since he was killed. It has been a horror to watch these thoughts do the merengue in my head, start a foxtrot about my clavicle just when I need my wits about me in public, and beat out a vigorous makossa routine in my brain just when I think I have achieved sanity.
But today, asides the big 363, I have a name for the book, I have mapped out sequences, and see light at the end of this tunnel. It is a surreal experience, to feel this way. And not food, wine or that comes close...only journalism has brought about something akin to what I feel right now.
I also have to thank Temi, Adaobi Nwaubani and Tolu Ogunlesi especially for taking the time to talk to me on making a start, any start...instead of bottling it all inside. I thank and plead with my mum in advance, for I will be winding her up and taking her to times she would rather forget but I want to make certain the world doesn't.
This is a small step, painful in turns...I do not guarantee any speedy churn of words, because this is non-fiction; it has my flesh and blood all over it...but I can guarantee that my three friends were right; once you start....you won't want to stop.
Will go easy on the celebratory booze tonight so insomnia can once again, make a fastidious writer of me.
R
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