I find that when I'm quite busy I ditch process. Typically, every blog starts in one of my many notepads. I have a fetish for pen and paper that may or may not be sexual. If the pen scratches against the sheet wrong then all is askew. And if for any reason I do not enjoy the scribble then I'm all fiddly and fidgety and the magic is lost. Don't be mistaken, blogging, or writing is magic.
At the moment, I'm a little bit busy because it's Lagos Fashion and Design week. Designers are showing collections that need my help. Some of them are alright and some of them are down-right errors, and they need to be told. I once had a dream that I would review everyone and I mean that everyone that made the effort to create something. I like to think of it as the reward of their work. If anyone's made the effort to create something then he or she or it deserves an honest opinion.
I started my work with The Sauvage (Les Sauvages) two years ago with varying degrees of commitment. The publisher's remarkably clever. He routinely comes up with ways to enslave me for little or no pay. This year, he's taken advantage of the fact that I no longer live in Nigeria to get me to fulfill my rather ambitious dream of reviewing everyone that shows at Lagos Fashion and Design Week.
He said, "Afam, you're always complaining about having far too much to do at LFDW. I know you haul your beat up DSLR about like some sort of dervish, and prattle endlessly at people until they deign to pose for a picture or two. Now that you don't have that to do, do you think you could actually get to writing?"
It's all terribly upsetting, but I've decided to have a crack at it. That means that I'll probably be buried until Sunday at the earliest. If you do develop some sort of craving for my words and I, you'll find them on The Sauvage
So go now! Don't tarry or dally or dawdle. I do not write to not be read.