₦airaland Forum

hmmm

For some weeks now, I've been training some guys on how to write fiction and I think we should not limit it to those few.

So, I've written a comprehensive textbook to that effect. Else, it will be more of rambling. Despite the textbook, I have made plans on how every of my student will surely publish a book before graduating from the class.
All you'll need is to get the books
1. Lite Fiction Help( tools, rules and exercises to help you finish that novel) on Okadabooks at https://www.okadabooks.com/book/about/10464 for 200naira( there are different option for payment).

and
2. Lite Character Chart ( the best tool for building that unique character) at Okadabooks : https://www.okadabooks.com/book/about/10465 for 100 naira.

But if you don't have the means to get it on Okadabooks, I can send you the PDFs at the amount.
All you'll need to do is to send me a PM in my box or email.
So, your source of payment( if you are not on Okadabooks) will be to
either pay
1. 300 naira to my Gtb account or
2. 400 naira etisalat recharge card.

However, if you don't want to join the group but need the materials. You can still get the materials in the same ways I've stated up there.
I'm also using this medium to tell you about my book ' The Unknown Shadow', you can now get it at
https://www.okadabooks.com/book/about/10463

Class Starts: January 15,2016. But there's room for late Application.
The students there are already enjoying the benefits.
Hurry while there's still time.

Only whatsapp, 07089578428

Knockout
Our first year in the Nigeria we rented a small apartment near a Government school nearby taught by many great teachers. My father wanted me to go the school. He believed real education can only be found in a government school.
The teachers were hefty, fat, slim, bald- everything made one teacher distinct from the other.
I liked them alot, especially my grandmotherly primary three teachers, Mrs. Folarin. I had a lovely name, she said, and she had me teach the whole class how to pronounce it. E-ven-lyn. As the only pupil who had ever travelled abroad, I was put in a special seat in the first row by the window, apart from the other children, so that Mrs. Folarin tutor me Yoruba without disturbing others. Slowly, I began to learn new word in Nigeria such as 'culture, traditionals, black, Africans.
Soon, I picked up enough english to know that terrorism was thick in the air.
Mrs. Folarin explained to a wide-eyed classroom what was happening in Northen Nigeria. Boko Haram were blowing up places and people. She explained that if these people were not caught we would have what she called Insurgence.
At home, we were exposed to the sound of these bombs through media. I heard new vocalbulary: Bomb, Explosion, Bokoharam.
Mrs. Folarin explained how it happened. She drew a house and later made white flurry of chalk marks to show it being on fire. She advised us not to allow religion lead us in killing human. She admonished us that fighting for religion was bad.
The months grew cold, Novermber, December. It was dark when I got up in the morning, frosty when I followed my breath to school.
One morning, as I sat at my desk daydreaming out the window. Something loud exploded from outside the school just like the sound we heard on the media.
I shrieked, ' Bomb, Bomb!'
Mrs. Folarin jerked around, her big skirt ballooning as she hurried to my side. A few pupils began to cry.
But then Mrs. Folarin's shock look faded as another sound rocked the air.
' Why, Evelyn dear, that's banger. Celebration is in the air!' She laughed.' Knockout'.
' Knockout', I repeated. I looked out the window warily. All my life I had heard about the sound of Bomb.
After school I stalled at the stall of some women, admiring the knockouts as my friends showed them to me. Each one sparked desire to rejoice in me. And I looked at my one of my friends. I touched her arm when I saw the fearful look on her face. I told her my new vocabulary. ' It's only Knockout. It's not a bomb'.

Dedicated to everyone in the north, who live in fear.

The Will

Looking back through, the years, Nifemi knew it was high time she left that house. She had suffered enough from this man she called her husband.
She glanced at the picture on her table. She slammed it on the table. The memory is sickening. It felt as if she had worm in her mouth. Her face deformed as she took her hand to her swollen eyes.
Her hands trembled. The clock on the wall tick, as if men were drilling hole in her body. The pain from last night’s beating was enough to kill any fat woman. Only God knew how she, a slender woman, got the strength to withstand such beating from her husband. Maybe, it was an accumulation of the strength she got from Kunmi, her husband's, incessant beating. The pain of her swollen face felt fresh. And it throbbed her.
At home, he wasn't thinking straight. Now, that she had left the house, she had thought it through and through. Nothing in this world was tangible enough to hold her in Kunmi's house. A man’s life was more essential than the vows made on the altar.
It was high time she got a divorce. But before she did that, she would first leave his house.
The season for becoming blind to love had arrived. And she would so much conform to it. Her heart was made up. And God help anybody that came to plead on his behalf, she would so much curse such person that the person will always remember the day he or she visited her.
‘Shadiat’, she shouted after she took her car key and headed for the door.
The door helped her imagine the way she would leave his house. Leaving his house would be just like the way snakes ply mountains- nobody would feel her leaving the house.
‘Shadiat...' She shouted again.
A short plump girl came running towards her. She sized her. She looked just like two Ghana-must-go bags placed on themselves. Her faced was with tribal marks like the line on Nifemi’s travelling bag. Nifemi hissed.
‘I’m going home, take care of my shop', she said.
‘Yes ma'.
‘And make sure you are here when I return, no matter the time I return'.
Shadiat nodded warily like the person who had just being told to either carry a pot of fire or forfeit her life.
Her mind dashed from one thought to another. She dragged her thoughts away from the love they shared. And dumped such thought into the vehicle-of-forgotten.
She just didn't know the cause of Kunmi's behaviour. At least, after three years of a childless marriage, he ought to have learnt how to take care of a lady. He ought to know that her belly would be yearning desperately for a baby. That her heart would be crying for comfort.
She was deaf to the gateman's greeting. Her eyes couldn't just help it. Every now and then, it moved to the mirror to see the black spot on her eyes.
When she entered, the first thing that attracted her was the empty space on the table. The empty space used to house a beautiful vase that was a gift from John. He gave her the vase when he returned from Dubai. She swallowed hard as she remembered on whose head the vase broke- hers.
The pain got back at her.
‘Ah!' She said, moaning. She knelt in the parlour. And, at last, after holding herself since yesternight, she cried. The chair, her consoler screeched as she held it to strengthen herself.
The pain that surged through her body as he slapped her came again. The memory of the agony from his iron-fist that blacked her eyes flooded her thought. And the noise that erupted from her mouth as he pulled her hair drowned her optimism of ever living with him again.
All she did was to be late in bringing a handkerchief. He didn't always use handkerchief beforehand. So, when he asked for it she was so taken aback that she wasted some seconds wondering what he wanted to do with a handkerchief.
After crying for ten minutes, she rose from her blood-like rug, and climbed the stairs that looked like the evil path she took into this marriage. If that stupid John had proposed to her earlier, she would have a son to call her own. She would be in the hand of the man that loved her; one she loved with everything in her.
‘John’, she cried as the pain got to her again.
She pushed herself up the stairs and packed her load. Kunmi wouldn't return till late in the night, when she must have be gone. Far away from the jealous eyes of John's wife. Far from the tender smiles of her son. She would be far away from the cold hand of death, which was also Kunmi’s hand.
On her last trip to her car, she stared at the wall, at the frame, at the picture of her and Kunmi. She hated the day she said 'Yes'.
She rushed to the wall pulled down the frame. She would cut off every tie she had with him.
‘Never again' She cried and jumped severally on the frame. ‘Never again.'
She cried. The glass pierced her skin. She wasn't concerned. She looked at the other frame and began to break them.
Just then, the door opened. Kunmi came in. Cold air rushed to her as she expected him to hit her again. He went down on his knee.
‘I’m sorry baby', he said. His face was contoured. His eyes were squinted as he crawled nearer.' I don't know what got over me'.
She shifted back. He moved nearer. Tears were now pouring down her face. Who would ever believe her if she told them, he always beat her. John would, but others wouldn’t because he was caring.
She stared at him. He was right. She just can't lose him. She limped forward, hugged his head, and cried over him. And for the 18th time in that marriage, she accepted him again, for better for worse.



* The End*

The sun wasn't up neither was time ready for him to leave the softness of his bed. But if he doesn't start at that time, there would be nemesis from ...

r

Bitterleafsoup:
Getting in the elevator I pushed 7th floor, Only one other person in the elevator I smelled his scent(Creed) before I gazed at his dark chocolate complexion face. He was focusing on his phone typing away. He had a full beard trimmed to perfection, muscular shoulders and arms showing through his all white tradtional fit. My stomach got butterflies when he looked up and his brown eyes were surrounded by lushes eyelashes. I tried to look away but he already caught me looking.
"Good morning" he smiled white teeth as bright as his shirt.
Stuttered " Gggood Umm Good morning" I aimlessly started digging in my bag and it fell from my hand scattering on the elevator floor. We both bent down to pick it and bumped heads. The elevator door binged it was my stop.
"Sorry" he just laughed and handed me my Smashbox makeup bag, gum and tampon. I was so embarssed. The elevator door closed I was missing my floor and I was already late to my appointment. He quickly pushed the open button before they slammed shut.
"Is this your floor?"
I just nodded my head, clutching my bag and portfolio to my chest.
"Mine too who are you here to see?" He opened the door and let me walk in I saw him looking at my nyash in the
mirrored wall"
" Ms. Osagahe I have a 9:00am appointment, thank you"
" Really thats my secratary" He said shining those bright whites at me again.
"Good morning Sir" the receptionist stood up as we entered. "Good morning Misi"
She looked at me "Good morning can I help you"
" Never mine Misi" she is here for me. His hand was lightly at the small of my back " Right this way my office is the last door in the middle. I will meet you there"

Wow... This can birth more story...

gh

This thread is opened for you to freestyle any story. please only stories are allowed in thus thread. .You don't have to have a good theme or plot. You can stop midway. Essence. 1 Prevents Writer's Block 2. Creativity 3. Gives new story Ideas..

etc
Let's go.

My review on bleeding words by Kizzykeziah


I duff my heart. This is beautiful. I love the consistence in the use of present tense.
1st Paragraph: The intro make sense. The use of two-word sentence makes the heart skip.
I don't get the essence of paragraph 2&,3
4th Paragraph. You opened our visual sensory. And you made us feel their fear. But I think if you added the way the breathe came, t would aggravate our fear.

I love the foreshadows. You made us feel an impending evil was looming that we should tighten our seat belt. Indeed, I did.
As much as possible, try to use more of 'said' it keeps the reader in the story. And avoid capitalisation of expression at all cost. It distracts.

P.O.V: 1st person witness.
Psychic distance: You pulled us to your angle. You dwelt more of emotional word. And made us stay glued.
Your story definitely portrays the problem some mothers face in marriage. Also, some of the trauma some kids carry into their own marriage. This mentality will eat into these kids. The girl would see all men as bad. And any man that portrays himself as gentle would not get a good review because as much as these ladies don't want beating in their marriages. They have conformed their mind to believing it's part of every marriage.

And guys, in fear of not beating their wives, would become wimps, be friend-zoned. etc.

Thanks
My Rating: 7/10


link: https://www.nairaland.com/2830842/bleeding-words-short-writing#41515924

I duff my heart. This is beautiful. I love the consistence in the use of present tense.
1st Paragraph: The intro make sense. The use of two-word sentence makes the heart skip.
I don't get the essence of paragraph 2&,3
4th Paragraph. You opened our visual sensory. And you made us feel their fear. But I think if you added the way the breathe came, t would aggravate our fear.

I love the foreshadows. You made us feel an impending evil was looming that we should tighten our seat belt. Indeed, I did.
As much as possible, try to use more of 'said' it keeps the reader in the story. And avoid capitalisation of expression at all cost. It distracts.

P.O.V: 1st person witness.
Psychic distance: You pulled us to your angle. You dwelt more of emotional word. And made us stay glued.
Your story definitely portrays the problem some mothers face in marriage. Also, some of the trauma some kids carry into their own marriage. This mentality will eat into these kids. The girl would see all men as bad. And any man that portrays himself as gentle would not get a good review because as much as these ladies don't want beating in their marriages. They have conformed their mind to believing it's part of every marriage.

And guys, in fear of not beating their wives, would become wimps, be friend-zoned. etc.

Thanks
My Rating: 7/10

timpaker:
I read everyday and read anything that my eyes come across. The reason... I will discuss it another day.

But I read for about 6hrs everyday, mostly at night (not at a go ooooooo )

I like to read on all because I like to see myself as someone that majors or with ideas in all fields of interest be it:

Romance;

Politics (I could get hooked to comparative public administration and interesting relations);

Religion (even though I ain't that religious I basically do comparative religion too);

Adventures;

Comic;

Business;

Arts and engineering / mechanics;

Etc.

Tag 3 people

MelancholicGuy:
As for me, it's an everyday routine which I follow strictly. Ranging from school stuff to novels, peotry (yes I love poetical works), inspirationals ( not religion based ones though), Nigerian news headlines (although not that often cause I bother myself less about politics, especially Nigerian politics) and. . . In fact, I'm a good reader. I read almost anything.

Tag someone

As for me I read daily. I make sure I touch spiritual, psychological , a novel and how to be better( better in relationships, writing, singing etc)


How often do you read..
answer and tag at least three people.


For some weeks now, I've been training some guys on how to write fiction and I think we should not limit it to those few.

So, I've written a comprehensive textbook to that effect. Else, it will be more of rambling. Despite the textbook, I have made plans on how every of my student will surely publish a book before graduating from the class.
All you'll need is to get the books
1. Lite Fiction Help( tools, rules and exercises to help you finish that novel) on Okadabooks at https://www.okadabooks.com/book/about/10464 for 200naira( there are different option for payment).

and
2. Lite Character Chart ( the best tool for building that unique character) at Okadabooks : https://www.okadabooks.com/book/about/10465 for 100 naira.

But if you don't have the means to get it on Okadabooks, I can send you the PDFs at the amount.
All you'll need to do is to send me a PM in my box or email.
So, your source of payment( if you are not on Okadabooks) will be to
either pay
1. 300 naira to my Gtb account or
2. 400 naira etisalat recharge card.

However, if you don't want to join the group but need the materials. You can still get the materials in the same ways I've stated up there.
I'm also using this medium to tell you about my book ' The Unknown Shadow', you can now get it at
https://www.okadabooks.com/book/about/10463

Class Starts: January 15,2016. But there's room for late Application.
The students there are already enjoying the benefits.
Hurry while there's still time.

Only whatsapp, 07089578428

Lalasticala
Repogirl
Larrysun
theorbiter
Thronekid
Royver
Labaski

We will overcome. Made Mod or not we'll build this ground because a new generation will need to meet good literature in Nigeria.

Accepted but it still needs the approval of Seun Osewa, by whose authority we can proceed to see the expected change

hmmm.... The sentences were longing

Are you judge shadows