For a long time now I’ve had a dilemma. Where will I put all my writing that will be easy to navigate and be accessible to interested readers? For reasons I do not care to explain I have a strong aversion to blogs but whenever someone asked “let me see your writing” and I couldn’t point them to a single body of work it made me feel less like a writer.
Creating this newsletter was my way of convincing myself that I am in fact a writer. I know, shocking. If you know me you probably know that I’ve always written. I wrote a poem about my mother when I was in primary school and a teacher saw it and told me it was beautiful. She asked me to show my mum and I said I would. Well, I didn’t. The next day the teacher asked if I’d shown her and I told her my mum loved it and promised to take me to the beach. That was the height of enjoyment to me at the time. My mum came to school for something a few days later and said teacher mentioned the poem to her and told her it was kind of her to say she’d take me out. My mum clearly didn’t know what she was talking about but she smiled regardless and nodded in agreement. When we got home she asked to see the poem and she actually did take me to the beach. Maybe that was the first time I considered myself a writer.
I continued to write. It was song lyrics in junior secondary school. I’d teach them to my friends and we’d convince ourselves they were great and we’d be musicians one day even though none of us could carry a tune. And then it was poems in senior secondary school. Simplistic rhymes about love and sex and other such things I knew nothing about. Then there was a day I wrote a poem in literature class (while pretending to pay attention) about religion and I thought then that there was something; that I didn’t just write, but well too. I’ve had a few of these moments of clarity. The most recent was when I got my first paid job. Someone actually gave me money for my work. Wild. There’s nothing like external validation. And that’s one of the reasons why this newsletter came to be. I’m willing you to read my work and (maybe) to love me for it.
My mother tells everyone I’m a writer. She also told everyone I was making loads of money during the lockdown from earlier mentioned writing job. I should be flattered but really it just makes me feel extra self conscious. It’s hard to hear someone refer to you by a title you have not claimed and so, this is me acknowledging (deciding?) that I am Atinuke the godless, nihilistic, anxious, raging feminist who also happens to be a writer. Whether I am a good one is a decision I have not yet made. For now, it’s easier to let other people (you) make it for me while I battle with self awareness.
I’m telling you why I created a newsletter.
I like to think about things and talk about them too. And on good days, I think there’s a stroke of genius to these thoughts. It’s the same way when I write sometimes I feel like I’m god’s gift to literature. On most days I think maybe I think too highly of myself and those are murky waters to wade in because at the same time, I’m constantly plagued by thoughts of all the things I should be doing, experiences I should be having and things I should be writing about for noteworthy publications worldwide. Crippling anxiety and a side of self hate will always overshadow occasional bouts of self confidence. So, I had two options. Either continue in my self loathing ways, writing “just because” occasionally or for work and school only and then hating my work after a while, deleting and simply pretending like it never existed OR collating my writing in a permanent medium where even if (when) I start to hate it, maybe I’d be able to see it through the eyes of people who are unburdened by my personal inhibitions. People who have no reason to hate or love my work outside of its quality.
You are one of said people. So thank you again for reading this and hopefully, subsequent posts too.
I find that my thoughts are like a sub. The impostor syndrome and self-loathing make up the filling, the "I'm a fucking boss" days make up the slices of bread that never seem completely up to the task.
From the relatively few pieces I've read, I can tell you're a good writer. And I hope that when the impostor syndrome comes knocking, you'll find confidence in people like me who think you're worth celebrating.
your writing feels like a gentle wave, I like that it's calming and kind of takes your hand and walks side by side with you. I've been in a kind of stage of self denial and self loathing when it comes to my writing and this was honestly inspiring, thank you Atinuke. I'm honestly inspired rn, and I can't wait to see more of what you put out there.