I started writing when I was about 9 or 10 years old. My mother started bringing home all these amazing story books from work for me to read, and those books sparked something inside me. They fired my imagination. The more books I read, the more stories formed in my head. Soon, I found myself…

I started writing when I was about 9 or 10 years old. My mother started bringing home all these amazing story books from work for me to read, and those books sparked something inside me. They fired my imagination. The more books I read, the more stories formed in my head. Soon, I found myself writing – a different version of the stories I read.

The first complete book I ever wrote was a collection of short stories, complete with hand-drawn pictures and moral lessons. I stole about three 60-leaves notebook from my mom’s wardrobe, filled one up with my stories, then replicated it into the two extra books, so I could share among my friends. When my mom found out, (I reported myself actually because I wanted her to read it) she was so livid, she reported me to our church pastor for stealing.

Our church pastor scolded me, but took the book, went through it and promised that he was going to help me publish it. This was in the early 2000s, printers and computers weren’t easily accessible. I didn’t even know about the internet. If you wanted to print a document, you had to go to the photocopying shop or the cyber cafe. As at early 2000s, there was only one photocopying shop/cyber cafe close to my house and it was a good fifteen minute walk away. But my church pastor took my book to his work place, edited the typos and typed out the entire thing, included the pictures, binded it and personally returned it to me.

I was ecstatic!

He was the one who told me that I couldn’t give publishing houses my handwritten story. He was the one who put the thoughts of ever publishing a book in my head. He was the one who first recognised my gift and counselled my mom, then my dad on how to manage it without discouraging me.

I continued writing without having to steal books from my mom’s wardrobe, because my pastor supported it.

….

I wrote my second book when I was 14, in 2010. I had just gotten into SS1 and by this time, I already had a laptop. My uncle had gifted me this small, pink laptop to encourage my writing and school work (By this time, my entire family knew I loved to write). At about the time I was finishing the story, a competition poster was posted in school about publishing your first book. I can’t remember how my English teacher got to know I was writing a book, but she encouraged me to submit; more like forced me to submit.

So, I got home and told my mom about it, and my mom went to church and told the pastor (this was a new pastor. My childhood pastor had been transferred to another branch by this time). The new pastor agreed for us to print with the church’s printer, but we had to buy our own paper. My mom gladly agreed. If I was going to print in a cyber cafe, we would be paying close #5000 (my book was very voluminous – I think I typed it using font 14 or so – haha). Anyway, I printed about 50 pages in church, then the printer spoilt. For some weird reasons, the church couldn’t fix the printer before the deadline and I was forced to go to cyber cafe. Luckily, since I had my paper, the owner asked me to pay half the price and I ended up paying about #2000 or so.

It was a big deal for me! #2000 could feed a family of four for two weeks (if they were being modest)! I remember asking God to make sure I won so my mom’s money won’t waste. Many months later, the letter finally came to my school – I had been one of the 5 winners selected. They were going to publish my book and help launch and market it. I was going to have an exclusive with Wole Soyinka and they were going to give me some money as part of the prize.

By the time they finished publishing the book, I was 16, in SS3. By this time, correspondence was now by email and no longer by letter. They sent about 5 copies of my book as well as a copy of the book of the winners. But the launch date never came. A meeting with Wole Soyinka never came. The money never came. I think the organizers disbanded or so. I never heard from them and my book was distributed amongst friends and family.

….

Life was happening too fast. I just got into diploma, University of Lagos that same year and started pursuing the “medical dream”. I forgot about writing because my laptop got stolen and for the life of me, I couldn’t write on paper. Medical school was also rigorous and I was too busy trying to survive to remember to write. But I joined the media team in the new church I started attending and the editorial team in my campus fellowship. I just wanted to keep the creative engine of my brain running, but I started to enjoy myself a little too much. I enjoyed writing articles with the editorial team of my fellowship and walking around the nooks and crannies of College of Medicine, University of Lagos (CMUL) to paste them on boards. I enjoyed doing all kinds of DIYs, coming up with new ways to get people to our fellowship with the things we wrote and pasted. I enjoyed learning new things, solving new challenges, picking people’s brains for ideas … I met other “creatives” in the other fellowships, and somehow, someone introduced me to blogging.

I blogged from 2015 till 2020.

I switched career from medical radiography to writing/digital marketing that same 2020. I was able to do this because church/fellowship media had trained me, somebody in church had sponsored my getting an international certificate as a writer and another had offered me a one year internship to professionally practice all I had learnt. And in 2021, I started writing my third book, with the help of another pastor (book about to be published).

When I look back at my life and career progression, I can see “church” stamped everywhere. My mom’s major social group was church folks, so most issues went to the pastor. The pastor recognised my gift and encouraged my parents to fan it. My parents started supporting, the church continued supporting.

When I think about church, I think about a school – A place I go to learn new things or remind myself of old things. The more I learn, the more my mind opens up to new things. I see another version of myself, a better version. The things I am being taught, come alive practically in my life and translates into tangible and measurable growth. I am happier and more at peace. Church is also a place for fellowship. I meet very interesting people and learn interesting things from them – things I probably would have paid good money to learn. I learn more about God also. The more I know, the realer he becomes to me, the more my convictions are cemented about Him and His ways.

This is why I go to church – because church is synonymous to school. However in this school, it’s not only my mind that grows, my spirit grows as well.