Tag: Writing

Writers Quote Challenge

Writing is Horrible! – Writing Quote Challenge Prompt

jacquelineobyikocha4 Comments

Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.
—George Orwell

This quote captures my recent thought as I thumb through a rough draft of one of my projects, gritting my teeth at the number of pages that needs to be edited. Some days I wonder if I am out of my mind, yet I know that I can’t stop. Stopping would be committing writing suicide.

It’s hard. 

But I can’t throw in the towel.

I would rather throw me

and all the demons

that come out of nowhere

into it.

invitation-shel-silverstein

Jacqueline at http://www.Acookingpotandtwistedtales.com

Joan at http://www.familyparentingandbeyoned.wordpress.com

Oneta at http://www.onetahayes.com

We are continuing the same format here and that is: there are no rules to follow. Either make up your own sayings or use a quote from a famous author that you find gives you inspiration.

Each Thursday, we will post the prompt and all you have to do is participate!

Come and join in the fun.

Short Stories

Unpredictable

jacquelineobyikocha27 Comments

She hissed in annoyance and sighed in resignation. Not knowing if her irritation was due to her changed plans, the unpredictable weather, the weather channel or the summation of all three.

They just never seemed to get it right these days. Especially the new weather girl with the dry sense of humour, pout and too much makeup. She had said they would have a fair Spring day, yet here came sleet with ice nestling on the leaves.

With another sigh at her changed plans, Geeta put the kettle on for a spot of tea. She should have listened to her bones. Her tired bones could tell the neurotic weather better than all those fancy TV personalities, except maybe Harrison’s creaky bones.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

InLinkz

In response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank you loniangraphics for our photo prompt and Priceless Joy for this enchanting platform.

Writers Quote Challenge

Deadly Silence and Inner Demons – Writer’s Quote Prompt

jacquelineobyikocha4 Comments

Quote, Writing

Last week Oneta’s Writer’s quote and her beautiful story made me remember an old song that my mother sang a lot back in the days:

Why worry when you can pray
trust in Jesus and he will guide your way
don’t be a doubting Thomas
just place your trust in Jesus
why worry, worry, worry?

It’s such a simple song but anytime I am inundated with worry and struggling to have my way with certain things, it pops into my head prompting me to offer it up to God and I have learned that prayer is indeed the master key.

For this week’s prompt:

‘my writing is a struggle against inner demons. I use my words to paint my  thoughts and win the battle in the recesses of my mind.’ Jacqueline

 

invitation-shel-silverstein

Jacqueline at http://www.Acookingpotandtwistedtales.com

Joan at http://www.familyparentingandbeyoned.wordpress.com

Oneta at http://www.onetahayes.com

We are continuing the same format here and that is: there are no rules to follow. Either make up your own sayings or use a quote from a famous author that you find gives you inspiration.

Each Thursday, we will post the prompt and all you have to do is participate!

Come and join in the fun.

 

Fiction · Short Stories

The Other Dream…

jacquelineobyikocha11 Comments

As the pile of freshly felled tree trunks grew, so did Theo’s stress grow. The cycle just never seemed to stop. He truly didn’t mind the work, not in the least, but it also didn’t hold much of his interest.

Though he found the art of turning the logs into different purposes satisfying, at the same time, he felt a deep dissatisfaction with his life. After high-school graduation, he had wanted to proceed to college and pursue his dreams of becoming a Civil Engineer, but that thought had simply upset his dad.

His great-grandpa down to his dad were woodcutters and he was expected to be satisfied carrying on with the family business of logging. It’s been three years since graduation, he wanted to bring up the conversation of going back to college again, but the time never seemed right – there were bank loans to repay and dad’s health had taken a poor turn.

With each passing day, the displeasure simply weighed him down. He knew that he was called to be more than a lumberjack which was what life currently offered him.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank you, Loretta, for the photo and Priceless Joy for this enchanting platform

InLinkz

Friday Fiction in Five Sentences · Short Stories

Calamity – Friday Fiction in Five Sentences

jacquelineobyikocha9 Comments

Image result for image of poor Nigerian woman

Scalding hot tears spilt out of Ifueko’s swollen eyes mingling with the salty dribble from her nostrils into her mouth.

She wailed in reckless abandon, her swaying form gathered into itself as she interjected her pitiful cries with grief-lade idioms ‘Chi mu o, ewu ata mu igu n’isi – My God, the goat has eaten palm fronds off the top of my head’.

‘Why? Chukwu Okike. Why has such calamity befallen me, she asked her God of creation.

The repeated echos of ‘ndo, sorry’ and other words of commiseration from the growing gathering of neighbours and friends fell on deaf ears.

Her five young ones surrounded her on the bare ground of their uncompleted home, their young minds unable to comprehend the gravity of their situation as the men of the compound struggled to bring out their father’s body from the well.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Quick Glossary

Chi mu o – My God

Chukwu Okike – God of Creation

 

Short Stories

Bigger and Better…

jacquelineobyikocha7 Comments

The fire raged with menace, its bright hot orange flames licked the timber with such nimble speed that in no time the house was razed to the ground.

The Darlington’s barely managed to escape the inferno with their lives and only their pyjamas on.

Thankfully, through their weeks of shock and coming to terms with their misfortune their wonderful neighbours rallied around them.

‘We are going to rebuild a bigger and better home Jo,’ Ziggy assured his wife and hugged her to his side as they stared while the workers cleared the charred remains of their former home.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Thank you, Yinglan for the photo prompt and Priceless Joy for providing this platform.

InLinkz

Stream of Consciousness Saturday.

Spell it Out! #SoCS

jacquelineobyikocha8 Comments

The ‘spell’ prompt that Linda gave us makes me think of a two-pronged approach. I automatically thought of my spelling which seems to get dodgier by the day and the need for people to communicate properly.

I am not a mind-reader,
I can’t tell what you think,
so, why don’t you spell it out?

Say what you mean,
mean what you say,
just simply spell it out.

I don’t like guessing games
I prefer to communicate in clear terms,
for heaven’s sake, please spell it out.

Spelling errors! Quel horreur! I used to be a buzzing bee in spelling and read dictionaries as one would read a book. These days – I don’t know if it’s accountable to ageing, to being too busy, or the fault of the auto-correct that simply jumps to offer a helping hand and provides us with the correct options – my spellings are no longer of the Spelling Bee Champion category.

I have found lots of misplaced e’s and undotted double i’s with crooked t’s and what have you turning up at odd places and some days when I re-read an old article and find myself totally embarrassed to find silly little spelling mistakes here.

Somewhere in my mind lies the correct spelling but my fingers jump ahead of themselves to type something else. Maybe, it’s time again to start taking the dictionary to bed and yes, I shall blame all the spelling faults on auto correct. I think it has cast a spell on people and we now depend far too much on it.

Like most things in our digital lives these days, everything is going autopilot, everything has an app, and the spelling of the younger generation sucks. They don’t even bother to spell fully anymore. Full sentences are broken down into abbreviated jargon and trying to read it simply gives me a headache that most times, I spell out what is written to make any sense of it.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Gratitude

Counting The Words…personal

jacquelineobyikocha13 Comments

Writing, Life, Quotes, Gratitude

A hundred and sixty-five words! I bet a whole lot of these words need to be weeded out. Now I have to take the surgeon’s scalpel, the blacksmith’s hammer and the butcher’s knife to cut, shave, trim, tuck, beat this draft into shape and close the chapter.

I am thankful for having finished the first draft of my new book. It’s been a slowpoke journey writing this one. I thought that I would have it published by March, alas, balancing it along with all the other merry-go-round parts of my life has been interesting as well as hectic. I had to shelve other writing projects that I’m working on to focus on this one because it has been driving me to get it done with.

Each day, I am made more aware of the fact that the blessing of being a writer doesn’t come easy. Many days one is at loss for the right words to bring to life the thing that you want to say, yet, I found a hundred and sixty-five words and there’s more threatening to spill out.

This is not a novel, nor can it be classified as a memoir – though lots of bits and pieces of me are to be found within. However, it’s an exciting project that writing it has helped me beyond words. A book that took me full circle. In my head, I’ve got the song ‘ don’t you worry, don’t you worry child, heavens got a plan for you,’ on continuous shuffle.

I am grateful for the gift of writing.

If you wish to participate in a gratitude challenge, there are several gratitude/thankful platforms in the blogosphere that you can tune into and get your ithankful going on. I can’t express in words the enormity of Joy and fulfillment that comes from having a heart of gratitude. Please check out Maria’s blog, Colline’s blog and Bernadette’s for thankful/gratitude challenges.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Short Stories

Labour Night…

jacquelineobyikocha2 Comments

Ulumma put down her basket of cassava for the umpteenth time and gasped in pain, her steps slow down as the contractions grow more painful and closer with each passing second.

The sound of critters amplifies and in the stillness of the air, the buzzing crickets, croaking frogs, mosquitoes and staccato beat of a talking drum that floated in the night air from the village increase her anxiety, reminding her how far she is from home.

She tries to dampen her ripe imagination from straying to folklores and ghoulish tales of the dead who come to do their farming after hours, but the tree limbs look ominous, gnarly and ghostly in appearance as dusk quickly falls in ‘Ubi.’

‘It wouldn’t do to have this child in this Godforsaken place’ she mutters as she trudges along, her thoughts diverting in anger toward her husband who was probably enjoying a drink of palm wine while waiting for his pregnant wife to return from the farm and make him a fresh pot of soup and fufu.

Hissing and cursing in pain, she vows not to allow him to touch her for the longest time ever.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

InLinkz

Thank you Yarnspinner for the interesting photo prompt and my lady PJ, I appreciate this platform that you host.

Quick Glossary

Ubi – An Igbo word for farm. 

Short Stories

The Time…Friday Fiction in Five Sentences

jacquelineobyikocha7 Comments

Image result for images of time

He could recreate her routine to the last second, sometimes he watched and silently willed her to break it, but like clockwork, she kept to her schedule of little things.

At precisely 4.15, she would come in, a creature of habit, she loved to sit in the same chair and the quieter corner behind the shelf with Art on a bold plaque pinned to its side.

She would plug in her laptop, put on her headphones, hum and move to the soundless music as she happily chomped on Twizzlers and tapped away rhythmically on her Toshiba laptop.

At 6.30 she would rise, stretch her taut limbs that bordered on thin, go for a restroom break and return with her lips glistening pink from gloss, a powdered face and a cup of decaf from the vending machine.

Now it’s 5 minutes to 8, he watched her pack up her things, in less than two minutes she would take the stairs two at a time, sadly, she seemed happy today, it was time, so he followed behind.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha