Writing Blues.

“He’s thinner than she remembers. His shirt hanging awkwardly on his shoulders, his gait sluggish. She waits for him to look up and see her, waits for the way his face would light up, waits for way he’ll draw her into his arms. He doesn’t.

Eyes turned downward, he passes her ghostly form and kneels in front her tombstone…. It’s been a week since she died.”

Backstory :

That was my submission for the #okadabooks 50 words writing challenge/competition. There are some changes I’d make if I were allowed more w o r d s, but for posterity… I’ll let it be.

This is the second time I’ve submitted my writing to be judged like this, and honestly… It doesn’t get less nerve wracking.

The first time was for an #Etisalat writing competition about two years ago; where the judge after reviewing submitted works commented : [paraphrased] nothing submitted this year is even worthy of consideration

That hurt. a LOT. And on first reading, I played this game of, maybe he didn’t actually read mine. yeah. there’s no way he would read my story and say that..

That didn’t work for long. I had to accept the fact that not everyone, and maybe not even a lot of people would enjoy my writing.

And that, it’s alright if they don’t.

So, when I submitted this second story, that’s what I focused on. Not whether if it was going to be received favorably by the judge(s), but on the fact I actually wrote it as quickly as I did (lol, yeah..y’all know me on the inconsistency front).

If you’ll take anything away from this post (hopefully, in addition to appreciation of my beautiful writing..hehe), is this :

If any one person genuinely enjoys and connects with your craft. Then, that is enough.

2 thoughts on “Writing Blues.

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