There are readers who don’t comment. They email me thoughts. Some are long emails, others are short emails. Some make sense to me, others only make sense to them. Some become e-friends, others become real acquaintances.
When budding writers ask me how one can become a good writer I always tell them, “You have to be unafraid to start a sentence with “and.” People don’t like starting sentences with conjunctions because teacher Lucy of Class Five Blue said it’s bad to do so way back in 1987.
If we are elements moving in a galaxy, I think death is a furious asteroid headed our way. The moment we are born the asteroid that will destroy us starts to move and it continues to build momentum and a rage of mortality as it approaches us.
Some folk think it’s gotten too dark in here. They say that lately I write only stories of death and suffering and gnashing of teeth. (Okay, that I added. It has been awhile since I used it).
I didn’t post anything last week because I was thinking. I was seated at my desk at home, leaning all the way back in my chair and staring out the window dreamily. I have a massive wall to wall window that overlooks the verandah of the neighbouring apartments.
I wrote a good chunk of this novella in a treehouse in Elementaita. It’s called Pinklakeman Eco-Lodge, where a gorgeous treehouse teeters from a gorge (the gorge makes it gorgeous) of a seasonal riverbed.