₦airaland Forum

Let's get started.

hucknall:
5 usd per word. Okay

There is no 'usd' in my post.

I'm a ghostwriter with a few years in experience. I have worked on Upwork and LinkedIn and helped authors to achieve their publishing goals.

What I can I do for you.

— Develop/expand your outline
— Do more indepth research
— Interview or collect answers from real-life audience to improve the book quality
— Writing the book
— for books that require conducting an interview, I develop the questions that will work create a deeper and meaning write up.
—Work Book
— Blurb writing


Samples are available on request.
WhatsApp number (081)37470578

Rate starts at #5 per word.

Thanks.

onlyfacts:
Announcement! Announcement! Announcement!

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This should be WEBNOVEL or one of its competitors

White Teeth --- Zadie Smith

https://www.nairaland.com/1467988/literature-section-awards-2013

Check the link and choose. Be advised, if a story was nominated twice, it deserves to be read earlier before others. Enjoy yourself.

The prince came every night for the past five days. A mystery man. But this night was different. Not for the street that had fallen asleep. Not for his limp and the clanging of his walking stick. He walked rather too slow and paused and looked back too often. He was the son of the king.


Cold breeze blew my window curtains as he walked onto the bridge and out of view.



The newspaper arrived the next morning with a bad news. The 'mystery man' was on the headlines: TROUBLED PRINCE DROWNED 'COS HE IS A BASTARD.

it seems the OP joined the literature section very late.

Well, I was here...

EgusiShankly:
what is the meaning of pekele??...

pekele pekele...

you can roughly translate it to 'see me see trouble'

I'm in

Nice.

interested

Your time and mine are precious. Not to waste it, I will get down to where I'm going --- straight: My favorite 5 stories on this forum.

Here is where readers should drink a cold beer and smile because this is choice ---mine.

And sorry, I write stories that are older than 2013. So stories that come after are exempted. That's why someone needs to create a 'counter thread.'

Good.

I love styles. I love arts that are not a scrap of the surface --- I mean those that get under our skin and into hearts.

Oya, let's start!

1. A walk down memory lane --- EggovinEmma

I love the sentence that sings as though it was a music in letters. This woman writes in plain language that defines simplicity and yet confined and rich in depth.

You should see how this woman described the killing of rats (I will share this later).

Note: the topic is now hidden if you want to view. But there is a way --- if you want to, you will find it.


2. The Place of Rest ---Ishiluv

This story ignited the idea for my best story. And I won't lie to you, I reread the first page it at least once every month. I told you I love styles, didn't I?

When you finish, read The Book of Death by the same writer. You will have an idea of what I appreciate in fiction.

3. Under the Rusty Brown Roof --- Fik fanuel

The second best writer, on this forum, I appreciate her characterization. She takes you to Ibadan, bring you to a family and make each member so real you are dining in their room and hearing the 'rapper' sing.

4. The coffin of Errors --- Larry sun

'My stomach!'

A start like Charles Dickens, Christmas Carol: 'The ill-mannered Pa Jimoh is dead, to begin with.'

And as you ride on, you read about the preparation of Pa Jimoh's coffin and the 'errors' during the transport of this 'edifice' --- which are indeed humorous.

Read real, vivid descriptions. The death of the protagonist from the palm tree. The Bees. The village. The truck driver etc. etc. all packed with humor.

Perhaps you want to learn how to bring characters to life, then, ask Larry how he writes 'backstories.' I'm not that lucky to get an answer.

5. Madness on The Highway --- Olu chi

Crazy, crazy, crazy!

The highway, in this bus, as Oluch described it, is filled with madness. Her style, too, is simple yet rich in 'tone' and depth. An ordinary expressed in creative and artful sentences. What some people will call talent.

*****.
We are done. Some stories are well written in style but I didn't list them. I'm sorry, things would have been different if I had written '10 or 20 favorite stories on this Forum.' Forgive me.


Reminder: Here the choice is mine. It is otherwise when you create your own thread and make your list. Good luck with it.

And, thanks for reading.

He glanced at his watch: half past 6. He had parked his car along the busy towards a mast waiting for the girl... stalking, actually.

He wasn't sure she would pass this route or even if she's at home. Or if she's left for work. He was a man of his time. Such liberty comes when one is an entreprenuer — a day for stalking. He watched the gate intermittently with his watch. The cars were passing, the street was awake though a bit of darkness still hung in air. The sun was hesitating, should I surface. He sighed. He has work to do and would like to see her. Maybe meet her again, to explain. This is morning he couldn't go towards that house.

That night they had drove after her and she, after saying things to the gateman drove in through the old and rust-painted gate. The stout gatekeeper dragged him out of the compound with indignation. Thanks, anyway, other times police would already be on his case, 'young man, why did you pursue a young lady?' Or the mob would turned him a charred meat.

The gate opened; the keeper was same. The car glide out; it headed forth and he followed behind.

'Time to know your place of work Rita'

Madness. Why are they following her? It might better to ask herself, why is she running?

Mark, she was running from Mark. Why?

Mark and Rita are not meant to meet ever again. They are meant to keep their distances and this running was about, increasing the gap.

She stepped on. The car sped on. The poles danced past. With a bright grin, 'thank you daddy,' she said. The car was doing fine and the feeling of being a bird on wheels washed over her. She couldn't have afford the car herself. In the mirror, her pursuers were no where. She smiled again.

The night was quiet and the number of cars has decreased. The spacious road was enough to make a ostentious drive, sideways, forth and back. Sky was blue and the moon was useless in the sense of lighting — streets lights, houses, hotels and tall buildings were doing the job fine.

Suddenly, a car sped past her. And in the same manner screeched to a stop right before. 'Heavens!' Rita shouted stepping on the break. Her eyes flared. Her heart a thousand miles closing on hell and paradise. The car-tyres cried like a beast. In a moment marked with luck her car stopped before it crashed the bastard's bum.

The car drove off without saying, 'hi, sorry, I was drunk' And Rita cursed.

A car turned up beside her and she turned to see Mark smiling on her from the front seat.
****** ******** ********* *******

Slim and Karen, I hope I haven't ruined it.

weldone keren and slim