BY Emeka Nobis
Writing was given to me as a gift. And like kids who excitedly grab cartons of wrapped gifts at Christmas, I had to discover mine. It’s funny how these discoveries are made. By writing fanciful and emotion-laden love letters to girls as a teen, little did I know that the boat of my literary offerings to the world had set sail.
And in this piece, I share my heart with you how I see my writing.
I write with the intent that you taste my words on your tongue. I write that you feel the message within the words in a compelling way that it lives in your heart and not your brain, for it’s when it lives there in your heart that it makes a true meaning.
I write with the intent that the effulgence of my words emit such a fragrance that accompanies the nostrils of your heart all day long, speaking to you, mentoring you, ministering to you in profound ways that lend meaning to your existence and stirring you to move onto the paths of relevance and significance.
I’m like a potter. A potter grabs the clay and forms it into whatever object he desires. I pluck words – willing and unwilling – and turns them into voices. The capture of words make me feel like I’m wicked. Yes, I accept it. I’m a wicked man. I capture thoughts and nail them on white plain sheets. They beg for their freedom, but the only one I can assure is to allow them breath from within the cells of white papers.
Yes, I’m a creative and I’m wicked like that.
Unlike the work of pottery that may sit in obscure homes, courting glances from a few eyes, the writer flings his words far from his window, hurtling them across plains to achieve certain effects. The words dance in some hearts, sting some or lead others along paths enlightening enough to elicit changes. And some other times, we slam words in faces with uncaring feeling. That’s why we writers are unique beings; turning the intangible into tangible. We are immortal, leaving our echoes behind even when we have shed our mortal coats.
I’m always on a chase – chasing words with my mind, forcing them to become one with me. I harass the night hours when the eyes of other mortals are firmly secured in sleep’s embrace.
Mine is a weird world, for those words are like shadows. Who ever catches his own shadow? But that’s what I do. For me, writing is a business. I wake up daily and go to work like a sculptor, carving, chipping and finishing – nailing words here and there on sheets – to create an alluring masterpiece.
The beautiful thing about this vocation is the freedom in my veins. It’s the type of freedom that an ex-convict feels. It is the type of freedom is that the breasts of a lady feel when they’re released from the captivity of the brassiere at the end of a tiring day.
I’m a writer and I’m condemned to lust after written words. That vice can’t be cured by any drug made by mortal hands. No one can teach you how to feel the scent of a flower.
If you’ve got this vice filling your veins, here’s a glass of wine. From my heart to yours. This is one peculiar family on the earth. Care to join me?
Emeka Nobis is a writer and thought leader who raises exceptional
business and organisational thought leaders. He teaches, coaches and
trains individuals and organizations to become exceptional thought
You can read his thoughts at his home : www.emekanobis.com
NOTE BY LORDJOSH: In case you missed the news, I am stepping up this writing game and I am launching my website on the 1st of December. Get a dose of the madness and subscribe here and get DEMONS ON CHURCH STREET eBook for free.