Dear Diary

Chapter 5

This chapter is dedicated to IfunanyaAnneEzeoke and ric3cak3 for being the first to comment. Thank you very much mwah.

Song of the chapter is Motivation by Normani

She woke up the next day feeling strengthened. She was seriously considering what Grace said. Why couldn't she write? She was good at that, wasn't she?
She went through her books, picked up the notebooks that were full of stories she started, lost interest in and never completed. The diary series she wanted to write after reading Dork Diaries and Diary of a Wimpy Kid. Nope.
"OK, what about the Revenge series? No. Too cliche and really unrealistic."
Flirting with Disaster was supposed to be about a con artist who nearly lost her life. She couldn't even remember the story line. Or what of the mystery books she wanted to write? Mtchew.
Rubbish.
She felt like laughing going through the books. Some of her ideas were so cringe worthy, cliche, unrealistic. What on earth was her teenage self thinking?
"Wait, wait first. What is this?" She didn't remember writing this.
"Oh, ok." The one about the village girl that falls for this rich city guy. Hmm. "But they don't need to end up together do they?"
She felt the familiar buzz, of ideas, thoughts, inspiration. She could write this, she knew all about heartbreak and lost love anyways.
"Yes!" she thought, "she still got it."

OK. OK. So then, names, characters, storyline, plot, setting or settings and all that. She should change some of the names right?
She skimmed through what she wrote earlier, tried not to cringe.
What was she going to eat sef? What time was it? Ahhh! She couldn't concentrate. Music. She needed music. She plugged in her earphones and let the sounds wash over her.
The more she imagined it, the more excited she became. Yes, this could work.
But first, she needed to clear her head. Write out her thoughts and worries. So she could concentrate on the book she was writing. She found herself reaching for her diary.

Dear Diary,
So yesterday, I was in a bit of a funk. Funk. I like that word. Sounds funky. Ha ha. But I'm much better now, actually thanks to Grace. Strange, I know right?
I've gone through my old books, the ideas I had for novels. Most of them need a lot of work but I've found one I can get started on so, I'm working on it right now. I don't even know the title yet, I'll figure it out as I write more. I woke up feeling much better, I have really high hopes for this day, my DSTV will be connected. Finally! I just hope this book turns out well and I don't lose interest and dump it again. But I am determined, HEAR ME? DETERMINED! To finish this book. I'll try to write one chapter per day and see how it goes. I feel like I should cook something later on, I'm getting tired of cereal and indomie. I'm feeling too lazy to cook but I have to make soup this week.
OK, let me get back to my book, bye for now.

She dropped the pen and cracked her fingers. Bad habit. She needed to stop that. For the next few hours, she immersed herself in the plot. She made a quick summary, then started naming characters, she decided to change the settings. She did her character summaries. She was so engrossed that when her phone rang she picked immediately. Then she realised what she did.
"Hello" she said tentatively.
"Hello yourself." a female voice answered coldly.
"Ah, Frances. You know I saw your missed calls but..."
"Please just stop talking, please. Madam where are you?" after there was no response "Hello?"
"You said I should stop talking."
"OK. Sorry. E pele dear. You can talk now. Please answer my question."
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Try me."
"I said you wouldn't believe."
She heard the sound of Frances gritting her teeth.
"You don't want to tell me, OK. So, let me get to why I called you. I was at your place last week, the house was empty and there's a For Sale sign on your door. I said "Ah ah." I called Janet, she said you told them you were going to your mother's place for some months, that's when I knew something was wrong. I called Josiah, we started calling you,we couldn't reach you. We started panicking, I was sure his people had you locked up somewhere, I've been threatening them. I've been worried sick about you and now I've finally gotten through, it's to hear this rubbish..." Frances was in tears at this point.
"Frances please, stop crying. Please, see I just need time. I need time to myself. When I'm ready, I'll call you. Right now I need to be alone."
"You know you're very good at pushing people away. But you know people have limits. I'm telling you this now, so if you call me and I don't pick, don't say Frances is wicked." she cut the call before she could respond.

She put her head down. Her shoulders heaved with sobs. She allowed the familiar feelings of guilt, hate and shame wash over her. She sat at the table crying for some minutes. Then picked up her pen and tried to write.
The phone rang again. Haba. Why was everybody disturbing her now? But wait this number hadn't called her in years.
"Hello."
"Ah, Kambili. We've been trying to reach you. How are you dear? I'm so sorry. "

We, fellow readers are at the end of Part 1. So, in Part 2, we would be going way back. Back to when she started keeping the diary. Then she was 12, still in secondary school . So, who's our mystery caller? And what are they sorry for? Let's find out. Thank you very much for the support so far, don't forget to like and comment.
I remain forever your lazy ass writer. 😘😘
Oh yeah, E pele means I'm sorry in Yoruba