Since it’s a blog affair, I went and borrowed a post from the Sheblossoms blog. And just in case you think it is a repetition, please note that we are allowing time for you to send in your blog nominations, as well as work on your NaNoWriMo. If you do not know about the NaNoWriMo, please check out the details here.

Writing & Living

I am glad that of everything I have ever loved and lost, writing is one thing I’ve been able to reclaim time after time.

I was in a conversation with my business partner and a client a couple of days ago. Talking about writing – our client said she had always wanted to write once she turned 50. I said that I have always wanted to write. Our client said she wanted to write so she could earn lots of money from it. We looked at each other and my partner said she wanted to write so she could write.

Ridiculous? Of course we want to earn lots of money from writing! But what if we don’t, what if we do but suffer dry spells in between? Then what, will we then stop wanting to write.

I always quote my mum; she is amazing.

When I was 12, my brother was 22, she sat us both down and told us: Creative gifts are not the kind you can turn off when it’s inconvenient. They are not a part of you. They are you. Once you are born a painter or a writer or a musician, it reflects in everything you do.

You feel more; words have special kin with you when you are a writer, so their weight bears harder on you.

Emotions come to you as music because musical notes and lyrical poetry are part of your thought processes when you are a musician. Colours and shapes have special meaning to you so every detail of landscape, environment, facial expressions and gestures are captured and eternalised in memory. It’s a blessing, but it can be a curse.

Once you accept the gift as yours, you can’t shirk it off when it becomes too heavy to bear. This is the reason my partner and I take writing as seriously as a matter of life and death. Art, writing is sacred to us. So sacred that our friends and associates are judged on the basis of how they carry their gifts in art.

When something is not part of you, you have no special obligation to guard it and honour it. You will use it as you wish because if it suits you, tomorrow you can flush it down the toilet.

That’s the difference between a true artist and a wannabe. See more of Sheblossoms.

So let’s go around the Kenyan Blogosphere and see what you all have been up to lately.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Bee-wildered: I breathed a sigh of relief as I walked out the door of the Patels’ home. Mrs. Patel was a lovely old woman, bless her, but she always insisted on feeding me Indian sweets or some sort of deep-fried vegetarian snacks. She would take my polite refusal to these offerings as… [From Memories-Unearthed]

Gay? Me? Of Course!: My generation throws that word around a lot. And I’m starting to think that in some cases, this generation might not be quite as smart as we think it is. So the question is being posed. What makes you a MAN in this context? [From Yenyewe]

The Kenyan Predicament: Let’s be clear. In war, certain rules must be observed even with regard to the enemy.  As spelt out in the Geneva conventions Kenya has laws that almost conform to these. The drama on the norms of humanity, based on treaties founded on the idea of respect [From The Nerd]

Children are Amazing (A Photo Blog): I have always enjoying being with kids, they are wonderful to be with and their words and acts are innocent. They  face life with less worry and anxiety. They are indeed amazing.  The poem below by Mel Vincent Basconcillo describes them well. [From Elyon House]

Of Growing Old, Finding Beauty and Smoking Weed: Every girl grows up wanting to be told she is beautiful. (People usually say that every girl dreams about her wedding). First, by her father, then the young boys, eventually by a good man. It is a rare occurrence for her to feel truly beautiful which comes about only if she is self-assured in soul, strengths and knows where she is going. [From Poetic Madness]

The next Fabulous-on-the-Blog is on 5th December 2011. You can nominate your own or a friend’s blogpost. Just send in to blogs@storymojaafrica.co.ke or tweet to @storymoja or message us on Facebook. Mark your tweet or message as Blog Nomination.

Until next week, have a fabulous week!

Everyone has their story. Everyone has issues. You have to face your fears. ~ Lisa Bonet

In 1971, very nearly everyone lived in a rural setting here in Kenya. Sure, a few people worked, and some children schooled in urban areas, but even the closest settlements near the main business centres were in rural areas. Just a mention – Kikuyu, Thika, Ngong settlements less than 25 kilometres from Nairobi CBD were farmland areas in 1990 but are as we speak booming towns growing at incredible rates. One demographics index states that in 2010 Kenya had an urbanisation percentage of 22%. It might seem like a small figure until you realise that that percentage represents more than 9 million people.

9 million people; 9 million stories. 9 million stories about life, work, relationships, challenges, successes, human nature; love, hate, jealousy, friendship, corruption, justice… set against the backdrop of an urban landscape.

That would explain why people crave urban fiction, and on the darker side street lit. The truth is, many city dwellers, the ones who love to read just for pleasure, when given the option of stories set in 1900 rural Kenya and 21st century urban New York, they would go for 21st Century NY. 

Ah, the uproar. We want our stories. Sure, we do. A while ago, the argument would have been that Kenyan writers just don’t have the umph that excites the followers of urban lit. It would probably have been true. But it isn’t absolutely true right now. There are writers who have risen to the challenge, who have captured the true Kenyan culture against the backdrop of technological advances and cultural evolution. I’ll give you a few examples for your pleasure in just a bit.

But it is also true that there is a bit of a lag in the translation from creation to availability. Now there is a lot that can be done, by publishers as well as authors, and perhaps you have some thoughts on this, so please feel free to comment below.

In the meantime, allow me to share with you three pieces of urban fiction. Now note some of these pieces are a lot longer than the 1600 word limit, but that is because the authors agreed to let us use their works as exemplars here. Feel free to read and comment. Then send in your own urban fiction story not less than 1200 words not more than 1600 words by Friday 25th November 2011 to blogs@storymojaafrica.co.ke

So here goes for Urban Fiction:

1. The Principal’s Tragedy by Chrispus Kimaru

2. Murder She Wrought by Linda Musita

3. In the Beginning by Nyambura Kiarie

Before we go:

That said, next week is Fabulous-on-the-blog-week that time when we celebrate great writing posted on blogs by Kenyans everywhere. You can nominate a post or blog, just drop me a line at juliet@storymojaafrica.co.ke

In the meantime, have a wonderful week and happy reading!

I’m a little confused. I know several people, alright, I’ll start again. I know a lot of people who are married or in long term relationships. I know people who are just starting out in new relationships with that guy they met the other day, or that girl they met at Church fellowship.

But when a callout for East African Romance goes out, very few positive stories come through. I mean, even an internet search for Kenyan Romance stories landed me at this post.

I just loved him to a bits. But before I met him, I had a savings account, with huge bank balance. When we started dating it all got spent, he was always borrowing with a promise to pay back with interest.  I believed any thing he said, I trusted him, he was my world, I was his passport to good life. I think you can tell it goes south after this point.

I had said this sometime earlier in the year:

Ideas of what romance novels should be, are marred by the Mills & Boons, Harlequins and blah blah blahs of this world. No, not one Kenyan teen girl who loved reading and who passed through high school was left ungrazed by those cheesy books with bare-chested male models on the cover. The focus of most pulp fiction romance novels is on the physical, with a little mystery, sometimes an overdose of mystery. It doesn’t feel right in the Kenyan context. Not quite.

Secondly, writers tend to over-think the ‘reality’. For the past several decades, the reputation of the Kenyan man has been pegged into the ‘not romantic, not chivalrous, not kind to women, not honest’ category. Well, I must admit, a good number of them men I have come across DO fall into this category, but there are good men out there. Wait, that’s not my topic, is it?

The Kenyan woman’s reputation has also been shredded to pieces, leaving the gold digger option vs the spoilt rich girl option. Truth is there are women out there who are strong, independent as individuals, and kind and honest as part of a couple. See it all here.

So that’s been said, let’s not go back to rehash all that. Instead, here’s something close to what I had in mind.

“The old man sits down slowly into the green sofa next to his wife. The sofa looks like it had seen the rock of ages and come back on foot. But the crotcheted seat covers actually looks pretty. The old lady scoots forward and pours thick milky tea into the kauro cup. She wipes a bead of sweat – she told me last week that she had been getting those horrid sweats since she started her chemotherapy.

The cancer was not the only thing that had gone wrong in their lives. Their only son’s wife had died in a car accident four years ago. And then a year ago, their son had been brutally murdered outside their gate by robbers. They had left behind three young children 8, 10 and 12 years old. And now they were facing a horrid take-down by a corporate force unlike any they knew. I hoped I could help them, that’s why I took on their case even though I knew full well that the chances of my earning any money from this job were next to nil.

I’ve heard the stories, I’ve been here every day of the last two weeks helping them get ready for the big court case coming up in a few weeks. Most of the times is when we totally divert from my actual reason for being here, and get lost in memory lane. I can even now reconstruct their memories in my mind, see the picture- even hope a little for myself.

She was only 20 when they met. August 21, 1971. She remembers because they were on a church trip to Naivasha after she and a group of other young women from the village had graduated from the Home Making Classes sponsored by the church. The mission called it finishing school; a year of learning how to sew, bake and cook, count money, plan crops, animal husbandry and anything in between. She had wanted to go to Tailoring school – in fact the seamstress class was one of the classes she excelled in. But the only thing her parents would allow her to do was the finishing school.

And then she met him, Njunge wa Kaniaru, the young student teacher from the next village. He stood out from among the other young men, with his hair parted in the middle in that silly way educated men liked to comb their hair. When he smiled, she was surprised at how white his teeth were; he surely had to be using the muguchwa tree everyday! He was tall, well a little taller than her, and she was tall. Her mother always made the joke that men would surely be intimidated by her because of her height. It was not a good thing if a man was intimidated by a woman, mother would say quickly.

He did not notice her immediately, and she was somewhat relieved. Surely, mother was wrong. About both things she hoped. It wasn’t until the group was lining up for prayer before heading towards the lake that his eyes first met hers…”

Don’t you just see the potential?! I want this story finished. In fact, I will hound the author to complete it. She has told me the gist of it, and it involves not just the love of this aging couple through some of the worst tragedies life can hurl, to the persona narrating this story meeting the love of her life in the course of this story.

Yes, yada yada, most stories in real life are not so rosy. And it isn’t even the issue. Here’s the issue:

Our stories tell of our hopes, our dreams, our ambitions to freedom, prosperity, even a little happiness. If we cannot begin to imagine it, then it can never become a reality. And the dream is, I am looking for a good story with some hints of romance, but with the spirit of East Africa: strong, deep, resilient.

So, another chance? Next Romance-on-the-Blog is on 21st November 2011. Please mark it in your diary, or sync your Google Calender with the one you’ll find here. You have until Friday, 18th November to send in your short Romance on the Blog to blogs@storymojaafrica.co.ke - it can be a complete short or an excerpt of a longer work. 

Prizes to the best story in the collection as voted by you:

1. Kshs 500 in airtime and a Storymoja book.

2. An opportunity to be published in an anthology in 2012. (Storymoja reserves the right to decide what goes into the East African Love Stories Anthalogy).

Next week is An Urban-Affair-on-the-Blog. In case you are wondering what we mean by Urban Affair, please see this page. In any case, you have until Friday 21st October 2011 to send in your short urban narrative to blogs@storymojaafrica.co.ke. If you have lingering doubts on the submission guidelines, please see them here.

Poetic: adjective

Definition: like or relating to poetry or poets; Descriptive: very beautiful or expressing emotion

The story is written in richly poetic language.

Aspiration: noun

Definition: something that you hope to achieve

Kingwa Kamencu has political aspirations.

I’ve always loved words, loved to write, spin words on their axis and see where they orbit, and then watch in wonder. Don’t get me wrong, I do not consider myself a poet. But I do have poetic aspirations.

I aspire to use words to tell stories, my stories, the story of humanity, of life and hope, and joy, and on the farthest swing of the pendulum; the end of the cycle of life, despair, hurt, sadness, and in between everything else that makes us who we are.

I like to use words, lots of them, usually they don’t rhyme, but they might have some rhythm, some alliteration, some shape and order to them. I admire, no, I envy those who can hang emotions and thoughts on a word or two. I admire the people who have the power to tell the story with a breath, a sigh, an exclamation mark…

This, this here is their space. The new Storymoja Writers’ Blog schedule features a once-a-month online event; every 2^nd Monday of the month – Poetic Aspirations. We described the event in the calendar:

Poetry to describe hopes, dreams, ambitions, emotions, thoughts, questions, culture, life…. The widest aspirations spurn on either free verse or a poetic genre announced the previous month.

To start us off we begin, very fittingly with a poem that offers hope and inspiration:

The Poets by Michael Macharia

From the depth of inspiration

We exude perspiration

Inscribe messages that last

To give humanity hope.

From the dark unseen wells

The flood of words swells

Coated in images that please

Seeking for a release;

We wake in the middle of night

Our visions to inscribe

Express concern for the plight

Of the suffering in our sight;

We are mediums of the message

Using it to build career

The expression of our tears

Our secret longing and fears;

We do not own the words

We do not create the events

We dare to reflect

Through this endless pain;

Sacrifice is the poets’ plight

For the downtrodden to fight

Struggling for bare survival

Hoping to announce arrival.

© Michael M. Macharia 2011

The second poem tells of aspirations alright, but not the kind you might imagine when you think of the word at first.

Reflection by Sanya Noel

I want to be like you

A liar, a thief

I want to be you

Greedy and lustful

In fact, more than you

Treacherous and hateful

Cunning and conniving

Indecent and sarcastic

I want to be like you

Racist and sexist

Divisionist and tribalist

I want to be a thug

I want to preach hate like you do

I want to kill love and always be rough

I want the KKK resurrected and baptized Kenyan

Let impunity reign

Let corruption grow

Let us water them to maturity with ignorance

Then watch it bear its fruits, poverty

I dream like you, I see like you

I want to steal and never be caught

Then cover my tracks under that hood of faith

©Sanya Noel 2011

Think on it, I sure will. And then join us next month as we aspire on poetic dew. Next Month:

Poetic Theme: Earth’s Nature

Poetic Style: Haiku

Email to send in to: blogs@storymojaafrica.co.ke

Date to send in by: 4^th November 2011 by 4pm.

Next Week the feature on the Storymoja Blog will be short fiction – of the romantic kind. We are East African, and we do love, our way. So just send in your piece, not less than 1200 words and not more than 1800 words. Show us – How do we love? Send in by this Friday 14^th October 2011 at 4pm.

Until then, here’s to your aspirations!

“And it occurred to me that there is no such thing as blogging. There is no such thing as a blogger. Blogging is just writing — writing using a particularly efficient type of publishing technology.” (Simon Dumenco)

So a lot of young writers keep asking me why they should keep a blog. First answer that comes to my mind is usually: Because you want to.

The truth is, there is no rule book that says a writer must keep a blog in this internet age. And true, there are definite cons to the whole blogging phenomena. But allow me to list a few pros:

1. Writer’s block from fear of exposing your work is gradually diminished the more you publish some or part of your work. 

Of course, it is possible that depending on your level of writing, you might receive negative review. This is not neccesarily a bad thing, in fact, to the contrary. Honest opinion from your readers can help you get better as a writer and a thinker. With time, you will be able to sift out what is honest critique and what is just crap. As your confidence grows, you’ll find it easier to write without worrying about critique.

“When you begin blogging—or even blogging a book, you typically don’t have any readers. If you don’t tell anyone about your blog, surely no one will find it right away. This allows you to get your cyberspace legs. You can test out your blog voice and your idea before anyone even shows up to read your first post in most cases. You can even delete the first posts if you don’t like them and start over and in many cases no one will have read them yet.” ~The GateKeeper’s Post

2. When you blog you get instant access to your targeted readers.

Yes, this is not true in all instances. but it is generally true for most modern writers. When you are working on a novel, it is possible for you to post a short excerpt and get reader review which can be of great help in completing a book. Blogging also offers you the opportunity to enter into a bonding interchange with your readers. 

My friend James Penhaligon has found this to be true in his case after publishing Speak Swahili Dammit! and keeping both a blog and a website for his other books. He has connected with people who read his shorter posts, comment and end up finding out about his published books.

“By examining reader’s comments, you can ascertain what your readers want to read, and what they like and don’t like about what you’ve written. If you don’t want to guess, a blog’s a good way to ask your readers what they want to read and what they like and don’t like. That’s the interesting thing about fans – they are honest, sometimes brutally so. But as a seasoned writer, your skin should be pretty thick, so take the leap, gather the information, use what works and disregard the rest.” ~ Writer Access

3. A blog gives you the space to try out different forms of writing.

I always tell the teen writers I mentor – you will never know what you are good at until you try them all. You can’t resist yourself to poetry, or fiction writing, or opinion editorials, until you have first tried to write all, and then had the opportunity to see which one is your strongest suit. That does not neccesarily mean that once you’ve figured out that you are good at one then you can’t do the others. All it means is that you know where your money is, and what you want to work harder on improving.

“Most writers find a niche and stick with it, but sometimes we like to try our hands at other genres. Your blog is a good place for experimentation. Just as your readers will let you know if you hit a home run or struck out with your usual writing, they will also let you know if you should dabble on in the new genre or stick to your ‘day job.’” – Writer Access

I am sure that with a little research you can find a lot more information to help you weigh the decision to start a blog or not. Today, I’ll give you just those three and now move on to our blog expo. 

I was able to find a bunch of different posts that I liked for different reasons. I’ll start with something relevant for the current events, a piece I first found on Marcus Olang’s blog but which was first published on 1fm’s website:

A Tribute to Wangari Maathai: Mother, Sister, Leader, Heroine, Woman: She made international headlines again in 2004 when a committee in Norway saw her persistent pushes and saw it fit to ensure that the world takes note of this woman’s work, thus awarding her the Nobel Peace Prize. Read the tribute here.

Clearing Chronicles II: Clearing from the University of Nairobi~ the process by which a former student prepares to graduate~ is a bitch, its a rabid bitch that’s suckling its young. in these chronicles I relay my adventures riding this bitch. Read the Chronicles by Waywardfoe. 

Born to Sapphire: Before Hailey and I leave the house, we will kiss Heidi goodbye and we will not forget to wave. She will wave back and say something close to ‘Byeee” in baby language. With her two pairs of front teeth, she will bless our day with a wide grin and keep waving and waving since this is a new ‘discovery’ she made the other day. Read Renneeisance’s September Sapphire.

Treasure – A Poem: I found this poem just perchance. I was looking for something that would help me explain the memory of a brother I lost ten years ago next month. And I found Treasured by Baru.

20 Questions: What have I struggled with in the past that might also affect the upcoming week? Only Jill Scott knows what I am going though right now, “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep anymore… waiting for love to walk through the door, I wish I didn’t miss you anymore!.. More like I need the old me back; I don’t need this right now, not when I have so many important things going on. Read Bobbui’s other 19 Answers to 20 questions. 

I may have mentioned somewhere else: People blog for different reasons. People write for different reasons. Indeed, people live for different reasons. If you live to write, then write whichever way that comes to you!

To nominate a blog post for next month’s Fabulous on the Blog, please send me email to juliet@storymojaafrica.co.ke with the Subject Marked: Blog Nomination.

Next week is Poetry week: Poetry Genre: Choose your style. Poetry topic: Choose your topic. Deadline: Friday 7th October 2011 4pm East African Time.

If you have any lingering doubts on the Writers’ Community schedules see the guidelines.

Until next week, happy reading!

The Storymoja HayFestival marks the end of a long writing year here on the Storymoja Writing Community Blog. There’s been lots and lots of learning, entertaining bits of fiction and poetry, challenges and so on and so on. I just want to mark out a few highlights of the year. But before that, a little heads up on the judges before we go on to the Highlights:

We start with the end of the 2009/2010 year, with the winner of the Storymoja/Generation Kenya Kenyan Conversations Writing Contest.

Clifton Gachagua took it home with:

The Gentleman’s Club by Clifton Anthony Gashagua: They come here everyday like stray dogs leaving the comfort of their kennels at home to play in the cul-de-sac. Tole is the oldest. A retired soldier with a mind like an imaginarium, he claims to have met Queen Victoria and fought in the East African Campaign against von Lettow-Vorbeck’s forces.

And then we sampled Flash Fiction & Vignettes and in the course of that walked right into:

Her Friend’s Father: Later that day, in the privacy of her bedroom, hours after she’d attended all her classes and gone home to mum, she’d unbuttoned her blouse and stared at her chest. She’d never really looked at them before. But now she looked.

and

It’s a Unicorn!: This Flash Short is a mini science fiction piece, set in Nairobi and based on the following lines: 

What is that?

It’s a unicorn.

Never seen one up close before.

Beautiful.

Get away, get away.

I’m sorry.

If you want to see what Mwangi did with it, see It’s a Unicorn!

We wanted to see what you could do with Humour, so we brought you Humour-in-an-Envelope, an excercise which added years to my life with the laughter caused by:

Dear Papoose,
I thought it prudent to write you an epistle to help you pass time in your mother’s womb. That way, you will keep yourself busy before that trimester when you get to kick and throw punches at the walls that house you. The second and most divine purpose of this epistle is to give you some Intel on your appointed mother.

Honey,

I have given this letter to Boi to give it to you when you go to the river today. When you get it read it very fast and hide it so that your parents do not see it. I will send Boi to tell you where we will meet during Market Day on Sunday. Please don’t come with your small brother Zebedayo because I am not sure to buy him a piece of sugarcane this time round. Promise?

Right after that we went and fell in love.

Love in a Kenyan Jiko: When you take up a topic with apprehension and skepticism, it can be really hard to see how you can build it and drive it to creative excellence. So I thought it might be a good idea for us to take a look at some of the classic romance stories ever told. Later we can try and see what options we have with regards to Kenyan Romance Fiction.

Then we acquired a stalker : I got to tell you there’s a whole wide chasm between friendly and stalking friendly. See, you meet someone, online or live-live, and you like them, you don’t get miffed if they call you.  But there’s common courtesy even then. You don’t call people after work hours unless they are friends. You don’t call people after 9pm unless they are family and family friendly. You don’t call people who are not your friends to find out where they are going for the weekend, wearing what and with whom!

After the drama, we went on to find out how Urban Fiction tells the truth about the Universe: There is a great wide open market for urban fiction out there. Why? Because it is one genre of writing that has a no holds barred rule with regards to content, language, style and very importantly, sex. And people want realism with their fiction; honesty about the darkness in us, hard truth about the universe.

The 2010/2011 year has been an Urban Narratives year. Which is why we are closing the year with this contest:

STORYMOJA SHORT STORY WRITING CONTEST (4 days left to submit).

Theme/Topic: This is my African Story

Genre/Category: Urban Narrative

Length: 1500 words (Max word count)

Prizes:

1st Place: Season Pass, a spot in all the workshops for the day, access to Pink Lounge to mingle with the Stars.

2nd Place: Gate Pass for one of the first two days, including entry to all workshops of the day.

Deadline to send in story: Friday 9th September 2011 at 4pm East African Time. Send in your story in word 97 attachment to blogs@storymojaafrica.co.ke. Make sure you mark in the subject line: Storymoja Hay Festival Short Story Writing Contest (all submissions not marked as such will be disregarded).

In addition to this contest, I would like to thank one of you for visiting and commenting on our blogs, so if you have ever commented here, please send me your name, and the title of at least one article you commented on, I will throw your name into the Thank You Draw, and you may be the very happy winner of a Season Pass. Just Title Your Email Subject: Thank You Draw – send to blogs@storymojaafrica.co.ke with your  name & title of story you commented on. Be sure to send this in to me by Midnight East African Time, Sunday, 11th September, 2011.

There is a great wide open market for urban fiction out there. Why? Because it is one genre of writing that has a no holds barred rule with regards to content, language, style and very importantly, sex. And people want realism with their fiction; honesty about the darkness in us, hard truth about the universe.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
The current generation of urban readers is one that has been grown on the internet, seen the widest range of information freely available to everyone, and asked more questions about the human state than have ever been asked before.

So here are a few rules that you must respect if you are going to write urban fiction.

There is just plainly no room for prudishness and skittishness when it comes to addressing issues about the human state in the urban environment. Everything from urban language, social disconnect, dating and sex, mixed up family units, commitment shy unions, sexual and otherwise, crime, corruption, everything you can put into the scene knowing that it does exist, all that is up for inclusion on an urban tale.

People are always looking for a good sassy, straight to the point and well written book. So establish well-developed characters throughout your storyline. You want to make sure your characters speak to you. A person should be able to read urban fiction and feel the characters are not limited to just certain types of words and actions.

Be careful with language, just because the streets are mean and tough does not mean that every other word in your story should be a curse word, or a derogatory one. If you have set your story in a region and wish to use language as a character of the city, check to ascertain that the language you depict is in fact close to the truth. You cannot be writing about middle class yuppies plotting schemes in Nairobi CBD pubs and then use the slang common to Eastlands, unless of course you intend to present a character from Eastlands.

Outline your chapters so that each one will be as complete as possible within the overall plotline. After you have created your characters and outlined your chapters it’s time to pull everything together. So go over your work a few times, check that dialogue is realistic enough, details tally, no unnecessary details weigh on the story, and that nothing is left unresolved except intentionally.

All your characters are developed, your outline is written and you have everything exactly like you want it. Spelling mistakes, grammatical errors and detail misplacement and the like tend to distract even the editor from the beauty of your final work. So at this point read over your work again. Sometimes, when you look at your work over and over you tend to miss small mistakes.  So have a friend read over and edit some of the information.

It’s time now to have a look at the entries for the No One Told Me About This Growing Up – Urban Fiction Contest:

1. Already Broken by Tabitha Makumi: “I am a hooker son, a prostitute, a good for nothing, that’s what I am. I have to feed you, I ain’t gonna let you die now. I am a good freaking mother, don’t you ever forget that.”
2. Bats in the Bedlamite’s Belfry by Linda Musita: 6.30 pm on Wednesday, the 1st day of June 2011. It was fast food night and Enoch had to call Bugga n’ Fizz before they stopped delivering. The major set back on this particular Wednesday was the negative truth that his mobile phone had no airtime.
3. Coming Home by Beatrice Wainaina: Being in high school, my friends would joke that my “known” family members couldn’t fit if they were to hang onto the branches of an oak tree.  I am the first of his ten known children.
4. Curtain Coming Down by Jackline Waithira: As the sleek black limousine snaked its way through the traffic I found my mind wandering, vivid images of my first day in campus flashed through my mind. Back then I was a naive village girl who had come to the university with too many expectations.
5. The Mystery of Cents by Richard Oduor : Now, it is not that my mother loves to dress scantily. No, I never said that. All I said is that she is barely clothed. Her Kikoi is in tatters; her shoes are old, patched leather 1970s ballroom dancing shoes.
6. The Scary Bed by Mercy Barasa: My name is Leila.  I am six months old. Yes, Six months old! My language is complex. Crying.  The cries vary. Hunger, fatigue, wetness, pain and sleep. My mother and my nanny can recognize all these cries.
7. Growing Up by Karen C. Limo: No one told me this when I was growing up, that fathers were related to you and were not issued by the government to wreck havoc in children’s lives. The father I grew up with was a nightmare, I would not have wished him upon even my worst enemy!