If this brought you here, please ignore it... otherwise read and see why you're here

Watch Me Write A Novel
(For Cyprian Ekwensi)
By
Rudolf Ogoo Okonkwo


Unless you knew me when I lived in Virginia in the 1990s, you may never know that I have a bestselling novel.

As far as I know, it was a bestseller, at least, around the Hampton Roads area - Chesapeake, Norfolk, Virginia Beach, Newport News, Hampton and Portsmouth. I believe it made it on Virginia Pilot newspaper’s bestselling list. I don’t know about the New York Times list, just because I did not bother to check. I was satisfied with leading the pack on Hampton Roads.

If you go to Norfolk, for instance, anywhere along Princess Anne Road, Virginia Beach Blvd, Park Avenue, from Norfolk State University to Old Dominion University, pick anyone at random and ask him or her about Death On Mount Trashmore, chances are that you will be told that it is a best selling novel written by one African boy.

They may not remember my name. You do not blame them for that. After all, my name was not written on the cover of the novel. In fact, the novel had no cover. As a matter of fact, it had no pages. It was one story that towered into existence by the good old oral tradition. Its fame spread from one ear to another by word of mouth.

Admitted, there was Chapter One, which was written close to ten years ago. It was those who read it that certified the novel a bestseller.

Year after year, in every New Year resolution, I vowed to finally write Death on Mount Trashmore. At the end of the year, if I made any attempt, it would be mere review of that first chapter.

This year was not different. I reviewed the same first chapter. As if to mark the ten year anniversary, I broke down chapter one into two chapters. I was as satisfied as that titled man who fumed when his wife brought him a plate of soup with one meat in it but felt greatly relived when the poor woman ran into the kitchen, cut the meat into two and returned the same plate of soup with a tender apology.

Like many aspiring novelists, I have a million and one reasons why I have not written my novel. Guess what the primary one is? You guessed right - I have no time. I am too busy doing everything but write my novel. I watched all of Red Sox’s four-game World Series. The other day, I watched my Patriots beat the Colts in the game of the century. In fact, when Fox TV drama, 24, returns, I hope to, again, follow it religiously. But time to write my novel, I do not have.

In the past, I have done creative things to encourage myself. I tried bribing myself. I even offered to give Mukami, my friend and typist then, a ten-dollar fee for every week I did not hand over to her a chapter of the book. Initially, she liked the idea if that would help me write that bestseller. But after two weeks of getting nothing, she could not find the courage to demand the money. By now it would have cost me over $5000.

Mind you, I have read many books and articles about writing the great novel. I specially remember how the lack-of-time excuse has been discredited. Those who seriously wish to be professional writers must create space to write, admonished How-to-Write authors. If you write a thousand words a day, in a year you have a 300,000-word novel, another author said to my surprise. In fact, a woman with four kids had written a novel by just scribbling on pieces of paper while in a train going to work in New York City. When her novel was published and it became a bestseller, she quit her day job and stayed home to write. I know all the inspiring stories. It is just that they have not inspired me.

You many say, na by force? Na everyone go be Chinua Achebe? If it is not written that you would be a novelist, just let it be.

I have thought about crazy stunts like that -like letting it be. In fact, after reading Purple Hibiscus, I said to myself that I should not worry anymore for Chimamanda Adichie is already telling the story of my generation. Those would have been enough reasons for me to drink water and put down my cup je-je, but then, what about Emeka, Nikki, Malcolm, and Dana?

These unfortunate guys have not left the confines of my head since 1997. They still loiter, whispering and screaming. They still perform new acts hoping to impress me and nudge me to write. “When are you going to give birth to us?” they ask. Often, in the middle of the night, while you are cozying up in your bed, I am dealing with these brain-damaged individuals and their theatricals. So you can see that it is not easy for me to pull out. Writing is like Ogboni cult. Once you join fully, it is hard to quit.

No doubt, this novel has run a crazy race away from me. It is time I fire a crazy shot at it.

So here is what I am going to do: November is actually National Novel Writing Month. Over 80,000 people across the globe are currently struggling to write 50,000 words by November 30, 2007. Going by last year’s record, some 20,000 people will complete their novels. I have missed a few days, but I will begin mine today. Like marriage vow made in a large church, in front of friends and family, I will be writing mine in front of you all. You can follow it by visiting http://www.mytrashmore.blogspot.com/.

For those who may want to read, be warned that what I will write may be pure crap. In fact, it will be trash, and maybe more. The first draft is always trash, anyway. But I will be in good company for many of the 20,000 who will complete their novels this November must have written craps you will never see in print. But then again, they must have overcome the fear of the time and work involved in writing a novel. Thereafter, the actual writing, otherwise called rewriting, will begin for those serious about being a novelist. So for this exercise, if you are not ready to read something typed on a keyboard with the monitor switched off, please stay away.

If you are facing similar predicament with your own novel (who doesn’t have a novel in them these days), come join me. Or visit http://www.nanowrimo.org/ where another 80,000 writers are battling with their novels. My deadline will be December 31, 2007 because I am in the middle of other writing projects that are helping to feed Ijeamaka and Ogonna. (Now, that is not an excuse.)

But come December 31, 2007, Death on Mount Trashmore would have been completed in hardcopy for the very first time in over ten years. It will be ready for my planned 2008 return visit to Hampton Roads, the first of such in over five years. And I have been told that having a copy of the novel is the only way I can return to the place I once called home.

Another reason I am doing this is in remembrance of Cyprian Ekwensi who once wrote a novel while in a ship from Lagos to London. He joined our ancestors over the weekend.

************************************************************************************

Rudolf Ogoo Okonkwo is the author of Children of a Retired God.