Scribe Anointing

7

Nothing sounded more blissful to Louise than the perks she now freely earned from her skill.

Who knew that things could get this good, this fast, for her as a writer?

All the things she had read online told her that writers were mostly unknown and underpaid. But in her case, it was quite the opposite.

Now, as an upcoming writer, she had a sizable fanbase, a heap of people begging her to teach them the rudiments of writing, and of course, countless mouthwatering offers to handle writing gigs.

Honestly, the little monetary tips she was getting were a big relief.
She was able to cater for some minor financial needs that being a student brought along without having to bother her parents.

She began to see herself on a high plane.

"Wow! I must be really good!" she would muse.

What she was fast forgetting was that though the gift of God is irrevocable, the danger starts to slip in once you lose guard and begin to make merchandise of the gift of God or begin to allow pride to seep into your heart.

Last month when she started her second semester-long break, the social media fan who called herself  Louise' secret admirer, Abimbola Olubanwo, reached out to her again.

The warm and well-meaning lady had linked her to a guru in the Nigerian literary community, though the person wasn't a believer.

The goal was to make Louise undergo a professional course in creative writing that would span three months.

Out of excitement, without bothering to ask the Holy Spirit, Louise had said yes to the arrangement. Miss Abimbola fully sponsored the exorbitant price for the course without hesitation.

In her time of fellowship with the Lord, Louise felt this unease in her heart but she numbed it.

'I mean,' she wondered, 'what can it hurt to want to develop my abilities?'

"Oh, so now, it's your ability? What happened to the times of absolute reliance on my inspiration and my Word?" the Holy chided.

Despite it all, she went ahead to continue the course. After all, she couldn't make the nonrefundable money that Abimbola had paid to go to waste.

So far, in the writing course, she kept receiving heaps of praise from her tutor, much to the consternation of other students.
He would keep comparing her to the others.

She was the first person he gave a major ghostwriting gig to.

The pay was amazing and things would have been fine if not that the specific minute things that she had to write about were rather disturbing—fantasy stories that portrayed werewolves, vampires, witches and other evil creatures as good and in love with a human being. And let's not talk about the ungodly, explicit scenes she was required to write too.

She tried to say no, but her tutor insisted and told her to work her way around it. Trying to keep up her game and remain in his good books, she agreed. After all, what would that portray of her professionalism if she wasn't willing to explore different genres?

Now, Louise was entangled in this endless cycle that she couldn't come out of.