₦airaland Forum

This teaser was nice, More please,

Finally!! I get responses! , thanks for the compliment guys!

@sugababe, I can see a very storng influence of M&B ,harlequin romance and those other romantic books in your work.you are as good as any of the authors under the genre I know.You write brilliantly love! But I need to say that you must examine yourself and find out what your motives for writing this kind of work is.As writers, we are responsible for shaping the lives and minds of our readers.you want to ask yourself what influence your wrok will have on your readers, what message you want to pass across, at the end of the day,if it isn't something you want your kid sister or daugter to pick up then you should think twice about publishing it. In all honesty,that aside,youre a gifted writer!

Your words are a scalpel;
Sshhh, don’t speak!
The sound of your silence
Is like a slice of heaven to me.
Your words are a scalpel
Small and sharp,
You peel me back Layer
By layer quivering layer:
Sinews and bones
Exposed to the flaying wind
Flaps of me fly away
As I watch in fascinated horror:
Your words are a scalpel
Slitting away my armour
Sticks and bones may hurt me
But your words damn near kill me!
Your words are a scalpel
Letting out spurts of blood
I bleed within, I bleed without
My lifeline is ebbing away no doubt
Your words are a scalpel
And you are a surgeon
You give me a surgery
I know I do not need
Sshhh, don’t speak!
The sound of your silence
Is like a slice of heaven to me;
The sound of your silence
Is a slice of heaven to me,

Ive been reading american and britain novels since i was eight years old and i only read african novels when i stumbled across my mum's carton of pacesetters and when we had to read some for literature classes.Í'm beginning to fall in love with them though.I started reading helon habila's books and i have a thing for jude dibia's books as well.There's a new crop of african writers coming up folks and they are GOOO!!!

@eec31, Aw thank you so much! An eight is a good number! incoporate your suggestion right away.You're a darl!
@gossipgirl, easy girl! we all don't know everything! LOL

[center]Take away this cloak of darkness
Fold back the night and give me the day
Take down the moon and hang the sun
Heal my madness, this I pray
For the nigh is the night
And the nightmares a wait therein
Giggling like demons
Let out in the dark to play.
Terror like a torn blanket covers me,
Fear like the cold wind,
Drives shards through my chest;
I tremble like a leaf on a windy day
I am as numb as a rat, caught in nature’s fray.
Take away this cloak of darkness,
Fold back the night and give me the day
Take down the moon and hang the sun
And don’t let daddy into my room today, [/center]

On issues of our publishing been free, we have an author friendly package which we will like you all to consider. Please do call in for more enquiries.
Thanks for finally getting back to us. So getting the book published isn't free then? Just cost effective? Please don't be exasperated by my inquiry but may we know the names of people the magic wand has published at least? that ought to boost our confidence.I apologize for the skepticism expressed so far,you must realize that even sending an abstract of your work is risky.Many ideas for books or movies have been snatched that way.Please get back to us soon!

@Myne White-Girl coming from you,that's a huge push for my ego! thank you!

(Hi folks! this is the prologue from my new novel.Í'd aappreciateit if you all tell me what you think and help me polish it up, thanks!)


[i]'Beinformed that I have married another wife. She is in the village and she is already carrying my child. I want you to know

so that when I start travelling home more than I usually do, you won’t start questioning me’.[/i]I sit as still as the statue of fertility my mother used to keep on the small stool beside her bed. My brain is tired but my

heart is not. It will not stop beating loudly as if someone put a pair of megaphones in my chest and I am almost afraid that

he will hear it, that this husband of mine so proud and handsome will hear it and know that he has hurt me. I see the look

of disappointment that flashes briefly across his face as I school my features into a mask of indifindifferencealent that I

have honed over the years as the daggers have kept coming.

‘I have heard you’ , I say and I make to walk out of the room into the kitchen where I am in the process of cooking obgono

soup and eba for dinner

‘Is that all you are going to say’? He asks, his chest rising and falling like a breathing mound.

I stop in the door way and look back at him.

‘What else do you want me to say Oko mi? What is done is done.

It all sounds so practical coming out of my mouth and I am almost shocked at the words even as they are carried to my

ears, but I have changed. This new woman is no more masked but she is real. I leave the bedroom and walk into the

kitchen where Ebe, my first son is sweating profusely as he pounds the obgono seeds. He looks up at me and pauses briefly.

‘Mama’? He asks and I know that he sees the pain in my eyes.

He is the only one who sees what the others do not see. When I have cried in silence and wiped my eyes, he knows, even

when there is a huge smile pasted on my face. At nineteen he is a spitting image of my husband, tall and lanky with legs

that are awkward in their movement. He is awkward in his gait too as if he is learning to wear this new body of his which

seemed to have to grown overnight.


‘Mama what is it’? I shake my head mutely and watch his lips tighten in annoyance. He hates it when his father causes me

pain.Once, he tried to pull him off me when he was giving me the usual beating and had a broken rib for it. Now, the

relationship between father and son is one of familiar strangers. They speak only when it is necessary and I am left to

battle with the feeling of having failed as a mother and a wife.

Again I shake my head and sign for him to keep pounding while I order his two younger sisters out of the kitchen to make

their unholy racket elsewhere.

As I scrape off the scales of the fish at the sink I let my tears mingle with the salty water on the fish. I am backing Ebe so I

can cry all I want. Besides, the pain is too much to bear and I cannot wait till I am all alone. So I cry. And as the tears drip

on my hands, they fade into a blur that takes me back to the past, where decisions were made that caused the ripple

which is today my life, It all started in London, cold, cold London,

Buzzzz, I'm loving your stories as they come in.Its obvious you have talent. Joan's already pointed most of the error in your work out but I jsut want to say regarding the first story, you ahd a lot of your tenses mixed up; If you write it in present continuous tense,it will hold more water than any other tense. your story about jamal was riveting, I loved it, Kepp up the good work!

I loved baby boy. madean's right, youve got a narrative style of writing poetry that could pass for story telling.While peotry is ideas passed in cloaked words,it doesn't have to be hard to understand either.Just strike a balance between the two and you will find your ground.I used to write the way you do untill i started reading shakespeare.That dude changed the way I wrote poetry forever! Keep it up!

Is the magic wand publishing outfit a charity based organisation? Since when was publsihing free? May we please know where the catch is? Also,if you have done free publishing before,can we get a list of people and books you have published?
May we also know where the organisation is based? You must forgive me for my skepticism.Nothing is usually free least of all publishing!

@raven, Thank you soooo much! I was giddy with excitement when i noticed someone had commented.I've made a note of your corrections.I'l work on them rigth away! thanks!