Small And Random Ideas

On language, patterns, multidimensional characters, and writing in the setting of your story

I enjoyed listening to Titilope Sonuga this week, so I thought I’d use an excerpt from a poem as the hero image, not that it’s directly related to the content of this letter. Listen to Swim here.

I’m writing shorter letters to you these days. Although I have an editorial calendar for the quarter — created to keep me [on my toes] or from running out of ideas — I write based on how I feel about the week: what ideas struck me? What moved me? If I’m honest, as much as I’ve tried to make these letters feel intellectual and instructive [since I moved from Thoughts Day to Book and Banter], it’s no more than a public journal. One where I can selectively be vulnerable, or can perform to a certain tune. 

Language and its patterns 

One of my favourite newsletters, James Clear’s 3-2-1 (3 ideas, 2 quotes, and 1 question), goes out Thursdays — around early evening WAT; it’s consistent in its ideas and format, in a way that I covet.

Covet has become my new favourite word. I covet that job, or that jacket. A yearning to possess. But not in the [often] negative connotation Sunday school teachers or Bible scholars might use it — in a dreamy, appreciative way. I feel guilty when I use it because ‘thou must not covet’ and the other nine commandments have left a bad taste in my memory.

We associate words with feelings and experiences. We say this word is strong and heavy or soft and tender. In the same way, emojis elicit feelings from us. 🙂 is sometimes seen as passive aggressive. ‘Lol’ that isn’t ‘lool’ and is shared without more, can be rude. Forgivable if you’re 50+.

Language is fascinating. Last week, I was discussing Yoruba adverbs with my parents. Have you noticed the patterns? The same way English adverbs have ly-ending patterns, Yoruba adverbs have patterns: Quickly ends with an ly and in Yoruba, it’s a ‘kiakia’ — a repetition of kia. Slowly is ‘diedie’. Usually is ‘leralera’, etc.

I had a Yoruba teacher who would always say, ‘omo ga fiofio’ [the child is tall fiofio.] I’m not sure of the meaning of fiofio, but I would always picture a tall tree and get the feeling of something stretching out when I heard the words ‘fiofio’.

Thank You Note:

Maybe this newsletter is supposed to exclusively represent the state of my mind. 

I started writing this particular letter at the end of dinner with friends. As I started to write, I wondered just how personal I could get with my anecdotes. In 2019, when I started writing, I had less than 5 subscribers, all of whom I knew. I didn’t have to worry about being personal. Two and half years later you're one in roughly a thousand who receives these letters. I may not know you and may never meet, but I’m grateful that you return most Thursdays to read.

I remember getting asked if I would still write if my work was never published and I said yes, very confidently and elegantly. See here 👉🏾 The Republic. I’m rethinking that answer now, not because it’s untrue: can I possibly imagine a world where I would never publish my writing. In simpler terms: a world where I would never share a newsletter with you or even post a tweet? I’m not sure. That in itself is gratification, albeit small. Definitely not as gratifying as publishing a book must feel. 

Beyond Good and Evil by Nietzsche

The Kindness and Patience of Friends and Strangers

It might seem random to throw this in here, but I never stop thinking about kindness and patience.

I’m back in Norwich for a few end-of-school activities, and Rose, my classmate from the MA course has taken care of me all week. It reminds of how my former classmate, reached out to me, even before he knew who I was, to ask if I needed anything before my arrival in Norwich, or my friend who helped pay my rent before I could get a UK account.

These are the hidden lessons, more than knowing how to edit a book or write a great short story. To allow myself be cared for — I’m worthy of being cared for — to accept and embrace kindness, to reject the idea that wickedness and selfishness are the norm. I’m still thinking of how to pay it forward, not just to others ➡️ How can I be kinder to and more patient with myself?

Invent a voice thick enough to lift your readers: a short story

A few weeks ago, Lucia wrote a beautiful story about a woman who goes missing. It’s called “Our Theresa”. It starts like this:

Theresa has disappeared. She disappeared on an ordinary Sunday afternoon. That day, we saw her at Mass, didn’t we?

And ends like this:

We never saw Theresa again, except for the traces of herself she left in Mary-Ann, who was thin and tall and had the same reddish-brown skin and bright wide eyes.

In between, so much is revealed about Theresa, her family and the neighbors. But what I find most fascinating is how the voice of the narrator(s) is so consistently confident, astonished and gossipy and carries you through to the end. Like music. So charming and funny. Here’s a story you should read. 

Movies show us parts of people we won’t see from afar: King of Boys 2

I haven’t written about KOB 2 since I watched it because I didn’t enjoy it as much as most people might have. This past weekend, my mum binge-watched the series and was rooting for Alhaja Salami (also known as Oba).

Other family members were confused about this: ‘how can you like a murderer?’ they asked, or ‘She’s a bad woman,’ and more.

My theory is that the movie did a good job of creating a multidimensional character: we see Alhaja Salami’s vulnerabilities as she broke down, mourning her dead children. We also see her care for a pregnant trader with several children. We see the motivations behind her bad behavior and desire to become governor.

With various textures of her personalities presented on a plate, it’s easier to empathize with her.

Go where the story comes alive

I think it can be fascinating to go to the place in which your story happens. Being in Norwich has done wonders for my imagination. I’ve picked up a story I paused for weeks and can see pieces of the city seek comfort in my work.

If you’re ever facing a creativity blocker, this might work for you. It could be sitting in the library in which your story is set and writing it there, as opposed to doing it in the comfort of your room.

It’s almost the same way The Office is filmed in an actual office, not a Hollywood set, as is the case for most films [for flexibility reasons]. The producers figured that doing this would add another layer of authenticity Given the show’s success, I think this must have worked out for them. [I found out about this on The Office Ladies, a fun podcast by Angela and Pam. If you watch The Office, you’ll love it. If you don’t watch The Office, you should.]

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This wasn’t such a short letter after all. Writing is rewriting is writing. Editing is a different ball game, and as usual, you’ll have to pardon my errors. I hope you’re well and staying safe! Remember to share with a friend, etc. ❤️