Some people are lucky enough to find love without looking. For some others, they have to make deliberate efforts to find love. For some, they find love without even knowing that they have. For others, it is a life-long search — a different stroke to different folks. I belong to the school of thought that believes that idea every human has a passion for something. Whether we find it or not, it exists. Writing was an accident of nature. My first love.
We met through my literature teacher in my second year in high school. My school had been listed as one of the schools to submit entries for the Remus house anthology publication in the UK, and my literature teacher had selected me as one of the participants. Quite frankly, I had never written anything outside of my regular assessment essays in school. Yes, I enjoyed stringing words together, but never beyond that. It felt as if I had been set up for my doom. I could not even successfully write an essay, much less a poem! It is true that love finds us in diverse ways. I knew that my best shot at anything meaningful was at night. I set up a calendar and tried to create a proper work environment in the corner of my room.
I was quite sure that with “inspiration,” all I needed was a chair and a table. I thought I would almost collapse under the weight of an overflow of ideas. Alas! I was wrong. The supposed “inspiration area” dampened my spirit. I remember sleeping off three days in a roll while trying to put pen to paper. Gradually, the deadline for submission approached. I had no ideas worthy of submission. I was waiting for the perfect idea, the type I had read in my literature texts. I began to realize that the more I sought perfection in my thoughts, the farther I got from achieving it or anything.
I wrote my first poem at the age of 14. My schoolmate had just passed on because of a failed healthcare system. I felt the need to call the society’s attention to its failure. I wrote about the need for us all to begin to create a better society. I found my love, in a loss. The poem was selected for publication in the Remus house anthology of that year. I found my love when I was not even looking.
Like anything, it gets better. For writing, never let the ink dry. It is selective of timing and regardless of location. Like a jealous lover, once abandoned, it deserts without notification.
By Tosho M.
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