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Khostlybeauty18:
Really nice piece

Thank you.

Read my latest short-short story here...https://www.nairaland.com/4418025/genesis-short-sory-kayode-odusanya#66151192

The Genesis

By

Kayode Odusanya


© 2018 Kayode Odusanya

“Creativity is a product of the left and right brain hemispheres working together; an alliance that comes more easily to the ambidextrous. People without a strong or consistent hand preference tend to be more creative than those who are strongly right- or left-handed.”
-Tom Jacobs

This story is based on true events…all names have been changed, except one.

October 1, 1991

The curtains were drawn, lights were out, and the only form of illumination was from the 21 inch Sharp TV on the shelf. It gave the room a cinematic feel, just the way Kayode liked it. It was a public holiday, and some of his cousins were around. Although he had watched the movie they were seeing a couple of times, he was excited as he watched his cousins react to some of his favorite scenes.

His cousins, Olawale, dokun, and Inyinola were on the long couch facing the TV, while he was perched on the right arm rest of the couch. Olumefun, his younger brother was wearing a white polo top with ‘what else’ written all over, seated on the stool in between the two single seater couches that his female cousins, Titiola, and Lami were seated on. The age range of all the kids in the living room was 6-11; Kayode was 10.

He heard his mom call out his name, but he ignored, because his best part of the movie was coming up; a part in the epic movie where the villain’s hand gets chopped off on a bridge, but a new arm forms, and the arm on the floor magically gets a new body. Anytime the hero cut off any of the villain’s body parts, the villain would multiply himself.

“Kayode!!!” He heard his name again. This time it was Gbemi, his elder brother calling him. He told his guests he would be right back and rushed out of the living room. Once out, he turned to the right, walked a little, and then took another right turn, walking past the big deep thermocool freezer to his left on the way to the kitchen.

In the kitchen, he saw his mom and Gbemi talking about the right way to gut a fish. His mom turned around and asked him to go fetch a bucket of water for the bathroom. He became sad instantly and it showed on his face. But when his mom gave him that mean look that needed no words to interpret, he ran off to get the bucket, and headed out of the house.

By the tap, he prayed for the water to run faster as he could hear the audio from the movie in the living room, and it was almost at his favorite part. He wanted so bad to see the reaction on his cousins faces when they saw how the ‘bad guy’ automatically grew back a severed arm. His house had low fences and as he waited for the bucket to get filled, he saw a black Daewoo Espero drive into his street. On a normal day, he would have been ecstatic as that was his favorite car at the time, but right now, all he cared about was that damn movie.

As he rushed back into the house, he saw Suzy the Alsatian jump around in her cage up ahead, and he looked back for a second to catch another one of his cousins, brother Owolabi walking into the compound. He was an older cousin, and Kayode bowed in greeting before entering the house. He spilled water on the floor as he walked past the corridor with the coca cola crates stacked up to the ceiling on his way to the bathroom. Just as he dropped the bucket in the bath tub, he heard his cousins calling out his name from the living room. He was sure they had gotten to the part where he had patiently waited for all morning. He turned around and started running back to join them. He hadn’t made it far when he slipped, and went up in the air. Coming down from his fall, he tried to use the stacks of coca cola crates for support, but gravity wouldn’t slow down its effects just for him. He landed hard on his right arm.

Kayode let out a cry as he felt a sharp pain in his right forearm. He lay on the floor for a moment, not recognizing his broken and twisted arm anymore. It reminded him of the beggars he usually saw along Ojuelegba road.

Still in his state of shock, he heard footsteps. “You better don’t cry; you fell down by yourself,” his brother, Gbemi said as he approached the corridor. He shouted when he saw Kayode standing with his arm dangling.

Their mom ran out of the kitchen, and when she saw Kayode, she put both her hands on her head in shock for a second. Then she shouted, “Ye!” as she rushed toward him, loosened her head tie, and wrapped it around his broken arm. “Mommy, is my hand going to remain like this forever?” Kayode said with a shaky voice. She ignored him as she rushed to his dad’s room.

His dad had been asleep, but had got out of bed when he heard the commotion in the house. Everyone was running here and there in the house now, with various versions of shocked shouts any time they saw Kayode’s broken arm, making him the more scared. His dad, a slender averagely tall man, examined the arm for a few seconds, wrapped it back, and quickly grabbed his car keys from on top of his TV before heading out with his blue silk shirt unbuttoned.

Outside, a few concerned neighbors had gathered. His Dad rushed to the drivers’ side of the car, ignoring everyone as he buttoned his shirt. His Mom got into the backseat with him, and his cousin, brother Owolabi got into the front passengers seat. The blue Toyota Cressida backed out of the driveway at top speed.

……….

Two Hours Later
They were at the orthopedic section of the Lagos University Teaching Hospital, Idi-Araba, Lagos, waiting for Kayode’s turn to get a cast on his broken arm. He had been reassured that his bone would heal and his hand wasn’t going to remain that way forever, which made him relax. His dad was talking to the man supposed to put the cast on his arm, and his mom had gone to look for his cousin, Aunty Sope, who was also a doctor at LUTH. Aunty Sope’s younger brother, brother Owolabi was by his side, checking out his arm when his Mom walked back with her. Kayode smiled at her even though his arm hurt like crazy. She was a tall and beautiful young doctor in her mid twenties. She looked odd to him because she had on a white lab coat, and he had never seen her like that before. He didn’t even know she was a doctor.

She greeted her brother briefly and sat on the bench, by Kayode’s right side. “Kayode, you are too playful” she joked as she removed the Ankara clothing that was wrapped around his arm. He was surprised when she didn’t freak out like everyone else who had seen his limp arm that day. After a few seconds, she smiled at him and said everything would be okay before walking over to talk to his mom and dad who were standing outside the room where the Plaster of Paris was going to be fixed on Kayode’s arm. After about five minutes, she let them know she would be around if they needed her, and waved at Kayode before walking off.

He was lost in thought, thinking of what everyone back home would be doing right now when he heard his name being called. His parents had walked his cousin off, so brother Owolabi took him in. The place was clean, well arranged with shelves on four sides of the wall. A short man dressed in white long sleeve shirt tucked into black slacks waved them over. There were stainless steel machines everywhere, and it reminded Kayode of a scene from the movie, Terminator 2 when Arnold Schwarzenegger had gone to visit a black doctor in his home lab. His cousin handed the man a big brown envelope which contained the X Ray of Kayode’s broken arm. The man pulled it out swiftly, lifted it up at the light and examined it for a few seconds before putting it back into the envelope. Then he started talking about how strong Kayode was for not crying like some other boys would still be doing right now. He removed the clothing from the arm, still talking, and smiling. He examined the arm, turned it here and there slowly, and in one swift move, shifted the bone back in place. Kayode’s scream reverberated through the room.

……….

Later that day, in his room at Number 7, Bishop Crowther Street, Surulere, Lagos, Kayode rolled over in bed and the cast in his arm obstructed him from completing his movement. For a second, he had thought it was all a bad dream, but when he opened his eyes, he saw the white plaster of paris on his arm, with a thin white cloth over his neck, holding the cast in place. He got out of bed, rubbed his eyes, and walked out of the room.

There on the long couch as he walked into the living room were his cousins, Lami and Titiola; the boys had obviously gone out to play, but the girls waited for him to wake up as he had gone straight to bed when he got back earlier, sleepy from the drugs he was given at the hospital.

He smiled at them, and took a seat with them on the long couch, on Titiola’s side. They repeated ‘sorry’ a couple of times before asking to see his arm, and examining the cast. The three of them were born in the same year, but Kayode was the youngest.
Later on, his mom brought him a plate of rice and chicken. Instinctively, he reached for the spoon with his right hand and shrieked from pain. Titiola volunteered to feed him, but he said he was okay. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a few seconds, and then made the unfamiliar move of grabbing the spoon with his left hand. It felt weird, but he managed to get a spoonful of rice and stew in his mouth. As he chewed the food, he held up the spoon and his mind raced through all he would have to start doing with his left hand, and in his mind, he questioned why God had to make a ten year old go through such pain.
Little did he know…Really, little did he know…

The End

This is a short-short story based on true life events...The Genesis.

Chapter 15

It had happened that Mr. Koyosaki had been looking for a location to test his organic vaccines for the particular fowl disease that Efe’s birds had been attacked with. He was curious to study the birds that had survived the disease outbreak. He was a Chinese billionaire who did a lot of charity work in Nigeria, and his area of focus had always been feeding the underprivileged, but with large emphasis on healthy organic foods. He proposed to lease three plots of land on Efe’s farm as a location for one of his charity centers in Nigeria. Apart from paying Efe in tens of millions for a long lease on the land, he was also going to assure that Efe got grants from his charity organization every quarter of the year.

They had ended with a handshake and plans to conclude all the paper work the next day. As he drove out of the farm that evening, he couldn’t believe what had just happened. It was too good to be true. Everything had looked so bleak just a few days ago, and now his bank account was about to be smiling. He smiled and shook his head as he reached for his phone. He scrolled through his phone down to ‘T,’ found her number and dialed. She picked up even before the phone rang on his side of the line. “Hey! I was just about to call you.”
“Really? What’s up?”
“I think I forgot my small phone at your place yesterday.”
“Oh! Okay.”
“I really need it, like right now. When will you be home?”
“Umm! You can go to my house; I will call Moshood to let you in.”
“Okay…Moshood has your house key?”
“No. He will just let into the compound. The house key is underneath a rock by the main door.”
“Okay.”
“Can you wait for me? I just have to make two stops before coming home.”
“Hmm! Are you sure that would be a good idea? You know what I mean.
He smiled and switched gears before saying, "I have a surprise for you. As a matter of fact, I have two surprises for you.”
The End

Intermission. Some Chinese people believe that both problem and opportunity are the same.

Chapter 14
All through the thirty minutes drive to the farm, he thought of what he would do if it happened that his farm was going to be closed down. There had been cases of poultry farms being shut down by the government if there were suspected cases of avian influenza at the farms.

As he drove into the farm, he picked up his phone from his car’s central console and saw he had five missed calls; all from his farm manager. He turned off the car engine and reached into the glove compartment for the file that contained all his farm documents; all this while, he had his eyes on the police patrol van a few meters in front of him.

He could see a cluster of men in front of main farm building. Efe took a deep breath, wiped sweat off his brow and slowly stepped out of his SUV. As he approached the farm building, he noticed two white men seated just outside, having a friendly Chat. Two police men stood behind them. When he got a bit closer, he saw it was actually a Chinese man, and a Caucasian man. His farm manager was lingering around, with his phone to his ear. Immediately he saw Efe, he called the visitors attention and pointed at him. The Chinese man got off his seat and approached Efe; the white man did the same. The small stature Chinese man had a genuine smile on his face as he bowed his head in greeting with an outstretched hand Efe’s hand. The two men shook hands, and then the Chinese man turned to the man beside him and said something in mandarin. Efe looked at his farm manager, searching his eyes for answers, but it appeared the farm manager didn’t want to interrupt the interaction that was going on.

The white man turned to Efe and said, “Mr. Koyosaki said good day. He also sympathizes with you for your recent losses on the farm.”
Efe bowed his head at the Chinese man with his smile on his face, turned to the white man and said, “Tell him I really appreciate that.” The man turned to the Chinese man and they communicated in mandarin for a few seconds before he turned to Efe again and said, “Mr. Koyosaki wants to talk business; is there anywhere we can seat and talk?”
“Yes. Yes of course.” Efe said as he led them into the building.

Chapter 12

Kehinde stepped out of the car first, looking around and admiring the well tended gardens on both sides of the driveway; a quality Efe had maintained after his parent’s passing several years ago. He chuckled when Taiwo stepped out. They were dressed in identical white lace iro and buba, with silver colored gele on their heads.

“It was Taiwo’s idea o! She wanted to prank one guy in her church.” Kehinde said. Taiwo just smiled.
“And how did that go?” He asked. He was standing behind the Corolla’s boot now, with Taiwo on the left side of the car, and Kehinde on the right; both girls adjusting their clothes.
“It was hilarious.” Kehinde said in between laughs.
“Okay. Let’s go inside and you can tell me all about it.” He said to Taiwo, turned to Kehinde with a smile before leading the way to the house; no hugs or handshakes.
“Oh! You have a dog?” Kehinde said as Susan started barking. “Hope the cage is locked?” She said and held on to Efe’s arm. She quickly let go and went behind her sister, who seemed a lot more relaxed.
“The cage is locked, don’t worry.” Efe said with a chuckle. He opened the house entrance door and stepped aside for them to go in. As they walked past him, he caught a whiff of their individual scents, and a sensual feeling took over his whole body. He stepped in after them, locked the door behind him, and took a deep breath before proceeding to join them.

……….

They started out telling him how they had played a prank on the guy from their church that was always bugging Taiwo. They seemed excited as they narrated how he had reacted after following Taiwo to the ladies, and while standing outside for her to come out, Kehinde walked up from behind and tapped him. He freaked out and ran off. Taiwo usually went by her middle name, Tope in public, and he hadn’t known she was a twin.

As they sat on his couch, in identical clothes, talking and laughing, at some point it was hard for him to tell them apart. Kehinde had the high pitched voice, Taiwo had the lower almost hoarse sounding voice, but deep down they were essentially the same person.

They went from talking about the prank to talking about superstar musician, Drake and how he gave away a million dollars to charity earlier on in the month. Taiwo said she would like to start a foundation that gave back to the community, and Kehinde said she would like to marry Drake. She said she had always wanted to date a white boy, and Taiwo corrected her, saying Drake was half black, half white. She said ‘whatever’ and walked over to his dining table to pick up a bottle of Jack Daniel he had been taking before he fell asleep earlier.
“Can I mix this with my juice?” She asked Efe with a mischievous smile on her face.

“You’re free.” He responded, and she walked back to the living room with the bottle, uncapped it and poured a little into her glass of juice. She was about to recap it, but stopped to pour for her sister. Taiwo shook her head, and Kehinde turned to Efe; he nodded and she poured a little into his cup.

She poured the drink in her cup a few more times as they continued to have discussions about any, and everything. They were on the long couch, and he was on the single seater perpendicular to them. Around 3pm, Taiwo received a phone call from their mom, and they had to leave. He was having so much fun and wished they could stay longer. As much as he liked Taiwo, the combination of both of was so much fun.
When they got outside by their car, Kehinde suggested they take a picture together. Efe was in the middle, Kehinde on the left, and Taiwo on the right. He held up his phone in the air and was about to take the picture when Kehinde asked him to wait a minute. She slipped her arm around his lower back, moved in closer, and pouted her lips. He looked into the phone screen to check Taiwo’s reaction and she didn’t seem to care. He guessed she knew her sister was tipsy.

Taiwo moved in closer, casually rested her arm on his shoulder and smiled for the camera. He waited till the camera got a clear view of their faces and then pressed the capture button.

bigbauer:
*Clears throat* So Kayo80 screenplay job gave him the chance to respond to some critics, but didn't afford him same chance to type an update. Issorit. Be it as it may, the words he typed in his several response while exchanging banter would've sufficed as an update. Atypical of him, he spurns out great and awesome stories that must be marred with prolonged delays. Good thing is, he'll always have an excuse. What do I know, I'm not a writer. Nevertheless, Kayo80, thumps up, keep up with the delays, you're the boss.

Creative work is not like physical work...it is mental...You can even have 10 hours free time, if the story isn't flowing, there is nothing you can do. Any good creative writer will tell you this. I am very very fast with typing, but would you want plenty nonsense, or an interesting story? As i said earlier, I am consistently inconsistent. This is how my writing process is. A tree doesn't bear fruits all through the year...it has its season and a time when it becomes dormant. It is a universal law, and applies to all processes of creation, unless in the case of machines, and I am not a machine...I am a human being; a very very flawed human being at that.

Chapter 11

Two Days to D Day

It was a Sunday, a day he spent mostly indoors. After church service, he drove straight home, pulled out his jotter and started doing accounts for the week. He fell asleep at the dining table and was awoken by the ringing of his phone. Caller ID showed it was Kehinde calling. They had exchanged numbers the day before, but he wondered why she was calling. He checked his wrist watch and saw it was 12:05pm.
“Hey what’s up?” He said after picking the call.
“Hiiii!!?”
“How are you doing?”
She whispered something to someone before saying, “Are you home? We are actually close to your house?”
“What? You and who?”
“Actually, Taiwo dragged me to church today, and we are on our way to the restaurant to pick up some things.” She paused to say something before continuing with, “She told me your house is actually on the same road with our joint.”
“Yes.” Efe answered and processed what she was getting at in his head.
“Okay. Cool. We would like to stop by.”
“Okay. That would be cool.”
“By the way, this is totally my idea; Taiwo wants you to know that.” She said and chuckled.
“Alright.”
“She’s driving.”
“Okay. So where exactly are you guys?”
She went silent again and then came back with, “She says we are a few minutes from your house.”
“Okay then, let me come outside then.”
“Okay. See you in a bit.” She said and hung up.

He slowly dropped his phone on the dining table and was lost in thought for a few seconds before shrugging and getting off his seat. He looked back at his living room, and he thought it was neat enough. He grabbed his shirt off the chair he was on, wore it, and headed out.


Susan, his Alsatian came running to him when he stepped out of the door. He walked towards the backyard, and the dog followed, till she noticed he was heading towards its cage. Susan turned around and made to run, but Efe grabbed her by the collar strap and pulled her into the metal cage.


As he approached the house gate, Moshood, his gateman came out bare-chested from his small living quarters by the entrance. Someone would mistake him for a body builder but he was just a hardworking vulcanizer. Moshood asked if he should open the gate, but Efe asked him not to bother. He stood there for a few seconds, sweat visible on his six pack chest, and then walked back into his room.


Efe knew it was only Sundays Moshood had to spend with his girlfriend and didn’t want to disrupt what he felt was going on in that little room right now. The man was a few years older than Efe, and had been working at the house for years, hired by his parents before they passed. He was more or less like family.


When Efe stepped out of the gate, they were just getting to the front of his house. He shot them a quick smile before turning around to open the gate for them to drive in.

collinometricx:
Kayo80 u should stop replying dat ungreatful guy... U knw u are nt in the same level as he is... He is just seeking attention...
ECO88

lol! I was just trying to correct some wrong notions he has about me for the sake of others that might stumble upon this thread in the future. But I am done now.

RichBright:
There's only one way Bro....... PUBLICITY! When his name constantly rings a bell in the society, more people will get to recognise him but how can we work on uncompleted stories Kunle Afolayan rarely features in Movies but who doesn't know Kunle Afolayan to be a great writer?

Dude, to be honest, I really don't appreciate this at all. Why are you trying to kill my brand? Dem send you? What's with the plural...stories...WHICH STORIES?

dammyd46:
Bright one see I don't know Mr Kayo80 but i was happy when he said someone was paying him to write a screen play or so. from following his stories and his recent post i have learnt he sells eggs and keeps chicken and yet still finds time to upload stories do you know how stressful it is.
I am not saying you should not criticise but if you must do it well. don't trying and collapse other peoples joy cause you don't know their story. Fuel/light/funds etc has killed a lot of dreams most people are working hard to keep it up. don't talk like you ain't from here. be reasonable.

God bless you for this. You are a true fan. I really appreciate you. So much wisdom in your words.

And Mr. RichBright, about this..."You think he is doing us a favor by putting up his work here 'for free.'" No. I am not doing anyone a favor...it is like a symbiotic relationship; you get entertained, and I gain fanbase and exposure. I respect that relationship. What I don't respect is toxic people.

RichBright:
And will you rather have me encourage him to wallow in his excuse or tell him the plain truth. You see there are always a 100 and 1 excuse for you not to do something. [b]Let us all help Mr Kay to the next level and that is not going to happen if he continues to linger on his predicaments. [/b]Come on, don't tell me you dint see that greatness in his works Let us all help him to the World!

I wanted to keep ignoring you, but this new twist you have come with is even more annoying. How are you trying to help me in any way when your statements are character assassinations? I have people that have become my friends through this platform, and they hit me up on Whatsapp and tell me things they feel I should work on. But you, what do you do? You come with your self righteous self saying stuff like..."This your attitude is a total turn of to potential investors. You've got brains but it's apparent that you are not building a career." If I wasn't building a career, what am I doing with 24 complete stories? If someone came on here and read just your statement and believed it, they would assume I have not completed any works at all. Think deep before you come and use your mouth to destroy something someone has been building for over 5 years.

dammyd46:
Mr Kayo80 I definitely wonder how selfish some individuals can be just thinking about themselves not others. Sir you have done a great job here, cause no one is paying you but you freely and willing give out your stories. And like you said most writers here don't even have complete stories and considering some factors in this country I don't blame anyone.
The guy is just been stupid, atleast you don't just leave you always give reasons for your absent. Sir please don't look at his attitude just focus on what makes you happy. we the serious ones understand.

Thanks a lot for this comment.

I'm not superman...i am not perfect... I am just a simple guy who loves to write. To the true fans, I apologize once more for the delays. I will continue posting tonight if Nepa restores power. And to the others that are tired of me, I am sorry, this is me, I can't be anyone else. And I still wonder why this guy is making this a big deal. All the popular writers that have their stories hit front page multiple times take like a year to complete their stories... I watch them closely. So why is this dude coming here to make it seem like I owe him money or something.

.....

RichBright:
I don't know why there's always a complain or the other everytime you put up a story here. This your attitude is a total turn of to potential investors. You've got brains but it's apparent that you are not building a career.

Let me say... I have been consistently inconsistent for the past two years here, but in the end, I complete all the stories. If you don't like my style, there are more than a dozen better writers than me on this platform, you can ignore my stories when you see them. I have 24 complete stories on this platform...yes I take time to finish them, but I do finish them.

I apologize for leaving the fans hanging, but it seems your own case is something personal. I do not like subtle insults.

The major reason I am not able to update this story is because I got hired to write a screenplay, and I have very little time to focus on this one. The person that hired me is not complaining; I deliver updates daily. I am paid to do that...that is a motivation.

RichBright:
I don't know why there's always a complain or the other everytime you put up a story here. This your attitude is a total turn of to potential investors. You've got brains but it's apparent that you are not building a career.

..

RichBright:
I don't know why there's always a complain or the other everytime you put up a story here. This your attitude is a total turn of to potential investors. You've got brains but it's apparent that you are not building a career.

Okay.

DemiKOL:
Kayo80, it's been a week now......

Nepa plus fuel scarcity, plus burnout is keeping me from writing. Sorry, at this moment I can't even say when I will complete the story, but I hope it will be soon.

Sorry guys. It's just the complicated life of a creative person.

I didn't write this article, but i am on the same page with everything the author is saying. Justin Seeley is a writer, just like me and many writers on Nairaland...in the end, we are CREATIVE people, and the process of CREATION brings similar baggage with it for everyone, whether you are Yoruba, Igbo, Idoma, or Hausa... Or whether you are black, white, brown, or yellow, we experience some of the same things in our lives... Things most are not happy to talk about.

I just thought to share this so as to give the readers an idea what actually goes on behind the creation of those beautiful stories writers share on this forum. I think this would help people understand why some writers take long breaks sometimes in between writing and posting stories.


Here we go...



"I often hear from other people that they’d love to be creative, or that they admire my creativity. What most people don’t understand is that there is a substantial amount of baggage that comes with creativity that most people don’t ever see. You’ve probably heard stories about famous creative people who lived a very tortured existence. A few people that come to mind are Heath Ledger, Robin Williams, and Owen Wilson. While these are obviously extreme examples, they all (in theory) share(d) in the same struggle that I and many other creative individuals do every day.


For many of us it is a constant roller coaster of emotion that rises and falls without much warning or provocation. While we are able to create things that bring joy to the masses, it comes at a great cost to us and our loved ones. I’d never change who or what I am, because I do find great joy in what I do. But I often wonder how much I miss out on, and how differently I would view the world if I could turn it off, even for just a day.


When It’s Good, It’s Great!
Every morning when I wake up (assuming I actually slept the night before), my mind goes through a checklist before I’m even able to register what’s happened. Instantly I’m aware of whether or not today will be a good day or a bad day. You may think that this is something I can control, but it isn’t. I’m forever at the mercy of this fickle disease that is creativity.


On the days when it’s good, it’s great! I’m able to create things, think my way through problems, and really focus on any task that I set my mind to do. I like to say that “when the light is on” I see the world in a totally different way. Almost like how Neo could decode the Matrix. I rely on these days very heavily because I know that these moments are fleeting, and I need to get as much out of them as I possibly can.


When I was younger these moments lasted for days at a time. I could start something, work nonstop for days on end, and not even realize how much time had passed when I was finished. Nowadays, however, I’ll know instantly upon waking up whether not I have *it* today or not, but the actual time and duration of the moment is totally up in the air. I could wake up and instantly have a rush of it, or it might not hit me until 11PM that night just as I’m getting ready for bed. The point is that I have to be ready for creativity and I CANNOT EVEN ATTEMPT TO FORCE IT, or like a frightened rabbit, it will just disappear.


When It’s Bad, It’s Awful…
There are days when I simply don’t have what it takes to be creative. When I hit one of these days I have to come to grips with the fact that it’s simply going to be a bad, non-productive day for me. This means putting creative projects on hold, which in turn puts me behind the eight ball for many of my deadlines. Oftentimes employers and clients will misconstrue this as me being lazy, and admittedly I’m sure it looks that way from the outside, but that’s simply not the case. When the light bulb is off, I’m simply incapable of producing my work.


I’m lucky in that I’ve never actually found myself in a scenario where the juices didn’t eventually start to flow. They might come at the very last possible moment, but they show up nonetheless. When this happens it puts me into a frenzy, and I often work as hard as I can for as long as I can until the project is finished. This might mean 24-48 hours of non-stop work, during which I completely ignore anything around me, including family & friends. At the end of this whirlwind of productivity I often crash hard. My body is worn out, my brain is now mush, and all I can think about is sleep.


You might be thinking that I’m suffering from manic episodes or that I’m in some way mentally ill, but I’ve been checked repeatedly by mental health professionals, and while they say I exhibit some manic tendencies, they almost all agree that this is just part of my personality and how I get things done. My brain is simply like a sleeping volcano. Everything I need is in there, but I have to wait for the eruption in order to make use of it.


Accepting Who You Are
After speaking with several of my fellow creatives, I learned that many of us share similar experiences when it comes to unlocking our creativity. One colleague characterized it as him needing to “slow boil” his ideas before he could actually put them into action. Many others reported that they too feel drained and mentally fatigued after completing a project. As I spoke with these people I began to realize that I wasn’t flawed, but simply different, and that’s ok. I’m capable of producing top-notch work just like anyone else, but I accomplish it in my own unique way.


When using a program like Adobe Photoshop, there are a thousand ways to accomplish just about any task. What I tell students is that it’s the destination that matters and not the road you traveled to get there. This must be true for the creative process as well. As long as I’m producing work that meets or exceeds the standards of my employer or client, who cares how I got it done? No one, that’s who.


Conclusion
Figuring out your process and embracing it is one of the most important things you can do as a “creative” I think. Once you’ve figured it out, you need to own it 100% without hesitation. Only then will you be able to fully trust your process when it’s crunch time. For many years I looked at myself as a procrastinator, but now I realize that my method of ideation is one that requires an idle mind before it can be turned up to warp speed.
I love being creative. The energy and emotional high that you get while you’re in the moment are something that is indescribable to most people. Creativity is not something that can be taught, contained, or scheduled. If you have it, you have it, and if you don’t, you don’t. Either way you have to be willing to ride it out and embrace the roller coaster. Such is the curse of the creative mind."

dammyd46:
Awesome piece Sir... you still remain my best nairaland writer, you deserve an Oscar

Thanks a lot. Maybe one day I will get an Oscar.

Shedrak1:
Big ups man!!! I've been following your stories for a while now and I must confess,
You've got all thats needed to be the very best in the field...
More Ink to your pen bro...
You'd go places...

Wow! Thanks a lot. I really appreciate this.