This is already the second Year In Review on the blog.
And I am writing this on a balmy-warm night, listening to the chatter of my neighbours through the window. I’ve spent days avoiding doing this – just doing the work of sitting down to write about what my year has been.
I only just dragged myself to write about it now – thus why I am writing it on a balmy-warm night, and not in the early hours of the morning, or in the more productive afternoon.
I’ve been avoiding it, because I have been asking myself; what would I even write about?
The year has been a good one. There is little to complain about.
This is unlike my last review, where I said that I started last year with a shy, tender hope.
This year, I started out with the rumble of laughter in my throat. And thankfully, it hasn’t ceased.
It is a much more confident kind of joy that I experiences this year, and dare I say, a more confident form of hope.
Where I spent last year with my heart in my mouth, half-expecting the other shoe to drop when things “magically” turned out good, this year, I looked firmly at my life, at the things that I struggled for before, and I said – why can’t it be even better?
And this was that year. It was a year of exercised hope. Of moving forward through life with a confident expectation that even if I faced setbacks, there is hope and courage enough to get things back on track.
I have matured a lot in this year, but where I am now, I did not get here by accident. Or by “magic” It was through a lot of deliberate work.
In the days that I spent avoiding writing this piece, I thought up writing this review to be in conversation with the last. Because time continues forward, because we must remember where we started out from.
But I am realizing now that while I could do that, 2022 deserves its own centre stage.
Even in the good that I experienced this year, it was laced with a lot of doubt, a lot of confusion about the newness of everything – not a worry that I could maintain the standard that I set for myself. The worry was that I was daring to ask of the world, more than is my fair share.
That I am asking for more than what others are given.
Let me explain.
In Living, We hope.
This year, and last year really, were great for my mental health. My emotional health. My financial health. I moved through life like I was slicing fresh fruit with a newly sharpened knife.
It takes a lot to keep all of these things in order when you are doing the kind of course work that I am doing, but it is something that I somehow managed to do.
But it came with an odd guilt.
Around the time I was seventeen, I introduced someone to the idea of ‘survivor’s guilt’. Which is odd because it was to someone who was much older and more ‘experienced’ than me. Anyways.
I gave the example of someone surviving the horror of a terrible road traffic accident, and wondering, asking why it was them that didn’t get any injuries, why it was them that was still alive, breathing, with the ability to thrive.
For me, with every win, the question began to change from – can I do it? (I knew I could).
I began to wonder why it was me. Why did it get to be me?
I feel very grateful for what I have come to achieve this year, and I am fully conversant with the amount of effort that I have put into the things that I do. But sometimes, I struggle with that guilt, feeling like I already have so much, and now more is being added to it.
Maybe it is like that Bible verse – to one who has a, more will be added to them.
It is a bit of a thorn in my flesh, asking why, comparing myself to other people who started out ahead of me in some cases, who are still dealing with all of the awfulness of the world, of setbacks and the like, and now I am here. Free.
It is such an odd predicament, one that I want to abandon in this year. I want to think better thoughts, and be freer. Because I now realize, there is no answer to this particular why,
I will keep asking that why in circles and circles. But the only answer is … just keep moving.
Keep doing great, and keep enjoying how far you have come. It is, at the end of the day, a deeply unfounded guilt.
For my writing
(And this is the good part)
I experienced a lot of great strides here.
This blog post is the THIRTIETH blog post here. I really have been consistent enough in the year and a half since I started writing here, to have this many posts live.
And whether you are new here, or you’ve been returning to read these since day one, I am grateful.
This blog post was a way for me to write about my art, but now I see it as a way to connect with people too. I have had so many conversations and comments sparked from people reading these blog posts, for that I am so, so grateful.
And with creative writing, with publishing, I have more than doubled the number of publications I have this year.
In poetry, I published these
- Oke in Native Skin lit magazine. It was inspired from a short trip I took last year to the magically scenic and mountainous Oke-Igbo, a small town here in Nigeria.
- Two poems in Salamander Ink Magazine. About faith and doubt basically
- Windwane/Birdweather in Olney Magazine. This was particularly special because, apart from the pubs I got in secondary school, this is my FIRST TIME IN PRINT. It was such a special moment for me.
- Lizards, an old poem of mine, got featured on a poetry podcast. You can listen to me read it there.
- Two more poems, in Native Skin Magazine. The one titled “Thorough” is honestly still so meaningful and special to me.
- I have a poem forthcoming in Lucent Dreaming. It is going to be in print also. Isn’t that amazing?
For prose, these stories were published
- Burnt Orange, in A Coup Of Owls. You can read the story, as well as this behind the scenes look at the concept of the story. A lot of people seem to love the explanation a lot so… give that a read definitely.
- Greenfruit in SmokeLong Quarterly. I did an interview with the magazine about the story. And of course, my own behind-the scenes look at the story itself.
And I have this piece up on The Republic (I have another one again this year!). i also wrote a piece on the blog here about why and how I got into journalism.
These works are in many ways an examination of my experiences, of the things that I care about, and a testament to my devotion to the work that I do.
Even without publications, I have been fully aware of how much I just enjoy what I do. But now, these have encouraged me, knowing that there is a whole world of people (like lovely, lovely you) that appreciate what I do, I am even more encouraged to keep up with what I do!
In Loving
What have I loved this year?
I have loved peace. I have loved enjoyment, I have loved good food and online shopping (ha-ha).
Really, I have enjoyed these things. I have enjoyed.
Someone on twitter said that one of their proudest achievements is the fact that they rested this year.
Just rested.
And they saw that as a good enough goal.
This year, I just wanted to build enjoyment into my life, I wanted to eat the moments I have been blessed with, and give myself over to appreciating the many good things in life.
Therefore, as much as I built a much more solid work routine, I also built rest and enjoyment into my routines. I spent weeks where I purposely wound down all work in order to just take that needed time to relax, to enjoy and to live. And I did it over and over again so that it is now a routine that I live without thinking about it.
But I have been shown this lesson over and over again, prepare for the good also.
In the Arting
And be willing to trust it. Good things, good years, genuinely happen.
Art is something that deeply informs my life.
That deeply informs how I live, how I work, how I am encouraged to love.
Art has taught me something about itself this year, as opposed to something about myself.
I have been shown that Art is not going anywhere. That no matter how much I cleave into it, no matter how much I take from it, there is still so much, much more to receive.
I think this is an important thing to understand, especially for any artist who started out doing their work from pure inspiration.
There is that worry that once you create a routine, the spark, that almost divine and un-manufacturable element of art will disappear. That a routine cannot hold something that is so elusive and tempestuous.
But it is not the truth.
Routines give you a foothold to work more on your art. They give you a rope to tie it down to the desk you work on, and eventually, it isn’t something that is elusive anymore. It is part of the furniture in fact. Some lovely, imported furniture that seems like it is from a different age, from a different world.
But it is your furniture. It is in the room you create in. it is yours. Remember this. Live like it.
And the same goes for the rest of life too. So many things that I thought were magical before, I am seeing how much they were easily hacked by routines.
Routines are great. Try them out. It is so much easier (and surprisingly enjoyable) in the long run.
As I close this on the warm, balmy night that I am writing this review, I am thinking about the fact that it doesn’t feel like the year is winding down. It feels like I am being wound up to face another year.
Maybe it is because the seasons haven’t changed yet where I live. The harmattan hasn’t come to replace the humid heat, maybe I haven’t heard enough Christmas songs playing in the street.
Maybe, maybe.
Every year, every moment starts with a maybe.
And that maybe is a good thing. Maybe we get an even better thing ahead in the next one.
Maybe we overcome the things that held us back in the last.
Maybe we will be braver, kinder, wiser, more routine-y (ha-ha).
But I am definitely glad that you are here. That I get to write a year in review, in a much better place than I was in last year. Good years happen. And they happen before even greater years.
Take care.
Enjoy the season as it changes into something better for us all.