My Writing Update

So I have been working hard to finish these two books that I am working on. The hours are punishing and I cannot seem to get enough done in 24hrs. Between a day job, commuting, writing, reading, family time, eating, relaxing, me-time, sleeping, exercising …. 24 hrs are not enough. I have been reading from the experts on how to get stuff done daily by prioritising the items, shutting down email and chat, being strict with distruptions etc. Its all very nice when you read and take notes …. try it and a whole new world of organized chaos emerges.

So I am working on two books, one a work of creative fiction another non-fiction. I have also been consulting the experts on publishing and am scheduled to get down to my lawyers office so we can discuss legal perspectives of this while publishing thing. I used to think that getting the words is the hard part, but the publishing industry here in Kenya (and am sure everywhere) is unforgiving and very daunting for first timers. I have read about self-publishing and all its pros and cons. I dunno.

Am just wondering, do we have some kind of agents in Kenya who do the leg work so that we writers concentrate on writing? Hallo, any agents out there? And then what about publishing abroad? Publishing online? Oh, this is so confusing …. I need a poem to help me clear my mind ……

Spinning the Yarn

It was wound taut, and
Sinews around the centerpiece
Unrelenting in its tightness,
It was almost constricting
Trying to purge it was a
Tall order, day or night

The yarn had been spun
For many years, or is it eons,
And it formed a tight, thick
Harness around his chest, such
That his heart beat an unsteady
Tattoo inside his ribcage

The yarn had started as a tiny
Wispy strand, but with constant
Spinning, stretching and tightening
Had evolved into a tight bundle
That now threatened to choke him
Like unruly weeds among flowers

Not to be outdone, the flowers
Had all intentions of blossoming
Tight yarn or no, and this meant
A constant struggle to blossom
Against all odds and even ends
Which would justify the means

As the struggle endured and wore on
The yarn became tighter and tougher
The flower became longer and brighter
For in the end the yarn could only
Stretch so much, but the flowers could
Always grow and blossom in new life

Having won the battle against the
Tight ball of yarn, the flowers
Smiled at the sun rays which
Shone directly and kissed them
On all sides and covered them
With warmth and nurturing life

The End

Now that my mind is clear, what do you dear reader have to say about writing and publishing in Kenya, or online? Oh … and self publishing too. Let me hear your comments.

Writing, right? Part 2

My mind has been on writing and living. Or rather, writing to make a living. Or is it living to write. Or is it making a living to write. The thrust of my thinking …. thrust of my thinking? Well, what am trying to say is, I have been thinking alot about how I can start writing full time. More importantly, why I am not, and how I can have the writing put enough bread on the table, and a decent roof over our collective heads. And how the writing can deliver broadband to my balcony (my pet subject elsewhere).

If I am writing right, should I not be exploring the world of the written word, and churning masterpieces like the masters have done in the past, and continue to do? If I am writing right, I should have the world enthralled by my prose, and poetry, and plays, and film scripts. I should entertain and educate, and inspire and be controversial and be right, in writing.

Am I rambling again? Let me write a poem, to calm my nerves, and recollect my thoughts.

Sultry Sunday

The choice of colour was wrong
Black, the magical and mystical
Colour that holds Africans in awe
And instills a sense of pride
From lions to men, and even women

The black SUV is now baking him
As he dozes in the sultry Sunday
Heat in the church car park, as
The pastor drones on and on as
Heard through the PA system

The SUV is slowly baking the
Heavy set, heavy eyed man, as
Sweat drips from his brow, as
It makes rivulets down his back
To the nether regions, yonder

The buzz from the fly, or is it
The drone from the distant aircraft
Or is it the drone from the PA system
Is torturing his day dream, of a night
Past, filled with with myriad events

Since he cannot doze in church, his
Drunken stupor beginning to fade
The heavy set man, in the baking
Black SUV must suffer in silence
As the pastor condemns him, on and on

Sunday is supposed to be a day of
Rest, from nocturnal activities, both
In-house and otherwise, but as fate
Would have it, he has to drive the
Family to church, and suffer and bake

The SUV should have been white, so
As to reflect the sun rays, and give
Him respite from the heat, that is slowly
Baking him and fermenting the chemicals
In his body, thanks to a long night out

Away from the prying eyes of his family
The heavy set man stirs to life, ignites
The engine, and slowly drives away, to
Get a drink and calm his nerves, and
Halt the drumming in his head, for now.

Now that my nerves are calm I shall continue to meditate and write about writing right in another part of this multi-part series. Keep this space locked.

New Frontiers

We seek to conquer and dominate
With swords gallantly held high
Shields and body armour to our rescue
As we fight this vicious battle to secure
The new frontiers

The fuzzy logic is whirring
Churning and spewing out new
Epithets and epics, slowly but surely
Cranking and clucking laboriously
As we move forward

The cog turns and the other cog wheel’s
Tooth get caught in the web of the first and
Turns the entire second cog wheel, round
And round as the entire mechanism
Winds slowly and tenaciously

We are fighting to win
The new frontiers left
Since we are fearless as well as
Peerless and we came here to conquer
Not to be ashamedly vanquished

————————————–

As I wrote the poem above I kept asking myself what I was trying to say …. actually I could not answer myself and it doesn’t matter. Let the mystery remain, I will decipher it one day. What matters is that I wrote it, because if it can be written, I will write. Period.

Running Wild

Running Wild
by M.R Karugi

Run, run, run, run
Feet shod in soft shoes
Cushioning every step
Run, run, run, run
And get away from
A sedentary lifestyle

Crisp air flows through
Flared nostrils
Gaping mouth gasping
For the next breath
Is as important as the
First step taken

Muscles rippling and straining
Heart pounding and pounding
Adrenalin shooting everywhere
Sweat streaking through the body
Droplets turning into rivulets
Cooling on the skin as the cold air wafts

The future is bright
Nigh as the impending dawn
Awaiting to be embraced
By those who position
Themselves to receive
The best life has to offer