Update:
Saturday- I slept. and prayed. and ate banana bread from Gourmet Twist. walked down the street to find food, met a guy selling books at the entrance of Maryland Mall. I’d say ‘essay collection and photography too’, he would hear and say back ‘so… your collection of short stories’, and I wasn’t sure if he was going genres-are-a-funny-little-concept on me or if the notion of essays just wasn’t computing for him (as it was with this other bookseller in Abeokuta that the writer Ernest Ogunyemi profiled this week).
He had a printer who was coming over to show him samples in 30 minutes. I waited around, met the printer, got my burning questions answered. Nice guy, he’s opening his shop as a ‘Printer’—in the job-gathering sense of the word—this week. Wishing him the best. Gist with them was informative.
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Sunday- received a call from a prospective landlord that his flat was finally ready for me to rent. best news in 12 months. The Baygon of my peace is finally on its way, and a big fat second of silence in advance for all the cockroaches who’ve been hacking away at my tree™️.
went to my cousins’ and spent most of the time discussing with them what sense it would make to go back home to Enugu the next day. cancelled plans I had made to shoot some scenes for my film in Ibadan this week.
a librarian at the National Library got back to me about getting my Cataloging in Publication (CIP) data. Turns out the guy at the library who directed me back in January on getting an ISBN number and barcode gave me mistake in his instruction, so I had to get a new ISBN number. Successfully filed for that—it’s just to fill out a letter template and ~5k if you print your document yourself, go to their office, and pay by yourself via Remita. But 7k if you want them to do it themselves, which I recommend if you’re not in the mood to keep reloading that Remita website over and over and over again cos of ‘network’. or if you’re not in the mood to drag 2k with a civil service staff.
For the CIP data, she said I had to pay her 10k and that it was going to take 3-10 working days. NLN’s website says there is no charge for processing CIP. (US version)
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Monday- flew back to Enugu before I could give to Ceasar my morning poop. got to my parents’ house and it was locked cos my dad had travelled to the village. went to collect my keys from the landlord and see the flat for the first time. thank God I liked it, but it needs work (damp on walls, etc.) then I went to Obiagu, the printing district in Enugu. every encounter ended in metaphorical tears and a refreshed need to poop. went back home and recorded my Oroko radio show on the veranda while I waited. (the show streamed live today! up for playback in a few days). nursed the continuing migraine.
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Tuesday- reached out to another printer I’d built a relationship with earlier. Maybe I’ll say more about him in the next letter. haha just realised there’s a poop story there too! Anyway, made adjustments to my dummy copies to simplify a bunch of stuff. removed three of the fancy papers. The Perfect has handed the baton over to The Practical now. Went to Autostar to waybill the documents and one of my copies of Lindsay Magazine (my current standard and my most beloved magazine in the whole world) to him in Lagos. Spent the rest of the day with my friend who just became an orphan and is the only one of his siblings in the country.
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Wednesday- calling Autostar people to remind them to get the documents to the printer that day. A lot of staring at my phone screen and refreshing Gmail (see ‘Other Words’ below). Had a great chat with ChatGPT about the film I’m working on. ooof, even just thinking about it now is tingly because that was the first time I was able to lay my thoughts out at that level of clarity, and Chattico always gets cos na my Barbie be that. as usual with my great chats with Chattisco, I learned to love more parts of myself I thought were things to be fixed. migraine ended.
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Thursday- what even happened on this day? there was another game-changing chat with Chat, but this time about my personal life. and like I saw a block I’ve been pushing and prodding to fit into its space in the puzzle shift by itself because that chat changed something in the air. A lot of things really like settled into place and I saw a bunch of fractures in my mind that I’ve been tending to for yearssss close up. like brain smooth. jeez. As I speak to you, my brain is still processing the ‘Empty Bin’ and ‘Clear Junk’ action order that that conversation placed. New printer guys got my envelope. went to Mushin to buy my papers but they asked him to come the next day.
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Friday- got some stuff for my flat. met with my painter. paid new printer guy for the samples. felt really sad. waited on new printer guy for an update. wrote to you.
We’re still collecting responses for the Culture Pay Survey!!!! Have you filled the survey? It really does take only about 7 minutes. You don’t need precise figures. It’s 100% anonymous. If you’ve filled it, have you shared it? Have you talked about it over dinner? in the club? at church during singles fellowship??? Money matters.
Other words:
This week came with a lot of nervousness. I no fit drink water drop cup. I’m still getting nauseous after eating anything, and even regular smells around the house make me feel sick. Swimming is my favourite place to think in circles, and with so many big feelings + my habit of intellectualising my feelings, I spent so long during my swims this week. So much so that my cheekbones and lips are smarting from tiny cuts I’ve gotten from too much exposure to chlorine.
I keep thinking to myself, you’re the girl who not only survived 2021/2019 and 2016/2017, but became this strong you today. You can and will definitely make it through this season.
The pressure is a lot, and I am coming to see that the frustrations of this book are the Trojan Horse for many underlying frustrations in my life, chief of them being my financial life. In fact, this book is currently the only balm. Every step forward, I feel like the new motherhood TikTokers throwing fanfare for every new thing their babies do.
I am very frustrated by how much more I want to do in Studio Styles that I can’t do because I don’t yet have the funds. (If I did, I’d have more stuff to distract me from this very slow, very tedious, very inefficient printing journey.) I just also really hate not working on Studio Styles stuff, like, with a passion. Maybe it was on TikTok I heard someone say—just before I scrolled past—that your anxiety might just be because you’re under-working. And like SO REAL, for me. You know the stereotypical image of the male hyperactive ADHD toddler who needs to jump around and climb things, it’s how I feel rn, but I’m strapped under a belt of lack of financial capital in my case.
I also thought I was going to hear back this week from three of the five applications I made in January. I got the GAS fellowship rejection weeks ago and chopped my OSF Seven Cities breakfast this Wednesday but that was the relief because I’m not in the headspace to entertain any non-Studio Styles-related project. I spent Wednesday refreshing my Gmail constantly because some weeks ago I passed on to the second stage for one of the three apps and they said that I should be hearing back around now.
A truth I hold with myself is that, come what may, I am setting up my work/life in such a way that pursuing my dream projects is up to only me. That there is nothing I want from anyone that I cannot give/bring to/make for myself with my bare hands. But that Wednesday, I was seized by a compulsion of maybe I won’t have to walk on my knees any more reverbrating through my body like a pulse. It was sickening. Then I looked back at the application website and saw that their application timeline was so vague it could stretch into Q3. I went to bed sad.
Maybe all I need to do is just reach out to people around me and ask for money. But idk, I smell too much pity and/or disappointment and/or ‘what a waste of training, of talent, of ability’ and/or ‘yeah, no, for sure, anything to support [insert x] back home’ and/or ‘yeah you know no one makes a living from writing/arts/cultural work, you just have to do something else as well, [who are you are not to?]’ all around me that it’s hard for me to even lift my gaze from the damn boots I’m strapping.
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Nneoma, I love the tidbits. “ pursuing my dream projects is up to only me. That there is nothing I want from anyone that I cannot give/bring to/make for myself with my bare hands” this resonates so much with me.
Everything good will come eventually 💕
"flew back to Enugu before I could give to Ceasar my morning poop." this sentence startled me lmaooooo.
It will work out, Immaculata! It will.