Day 30 – All The Things I Learned From The Writing Challenge


If this was a professional blog, then I may have just killed my career with this stunt I pulled.

I started a 30-days writing challenge on Jan 24th of this year and I’m just finishing it today.

Wow! I have no words.

Except I do have words, actually a lot of them. Just like the title said, I want to share all……all of the things I learned in the course of this writing challenge.

Consistent Practice Makes Perfect

We should stop saying practice makes perfect. It’s not wrong, but it can be taken out of context, like I took it out of content. Whew!

Can an athlete train once a month and still keep in shape?


Sigh. I remember when I first started the writing challenge, I was on fire. My hands couldn’t write as fast as the words were churning in my head. It was awesome.

I started strong but failed to continue with the same energy. Writing is a muscle that you build with consistent practice. The keyword is consistent, and here I thought it was practice. Haha!😫😢

Trying Is Not The Same As Doing It

I believe strongly that if you keep trying to do something your chances of getting it done increases. It pains me to say that it doesn’t always work like that.

Sometimes during the initial days of the challenge, I skipped days and had to make up by writing more than my quota for the day.

I also tried to finish the challenge so many times. I started writing in my book, on the laptop…and see how that worked out for me.

If you’ve got something to do, just do it. It took me a long time to accept this truth. It might be impossible to fix the damage it will cause if you keep putting it off. It’s a hard lesson to learn, and it’s best if you don’t experience it for yourself.

Finishing Feels So Good

Yo! The moment I started writing this post, I knew it was the one that would make it, and the relief I felt was so good.

The weight that is off my chest was heavier than I suspected. I feel so light, I could float away.

It’s really easy to put things off. But you’ll save yourself the stress if you just do it and get it out of the way


I still remember the experience when I started. It’s fresh on my mind; like wet ink on parchment. I was digging the whole writing every day. I want to try again (oops! Sorry).

I mean I want to do it again.

I want to feel the way that I felt in the beginning again….and I want to finish.

I’m doing a personal writing challenge for the month of April. This time around it is going to be a sort of journal. Nothing fancy. Just a summary of my day and maybe pictures that I’ll like to share.

Yeah, my fate is sealed.

To everyone that has kept up with me for this challenge, and those that left kind comments, thank you for being here.❤️

#Day 30 of 30 days writing challenge – Not Enough Writers

Photo Credit: Pexels

PS You can check out the writing challenge and my ridiculous timeline here

Some cool pictures I took recently

  • Pre-wedding portrait
  • Pre-wedding portrait
  • Woman looking out of a clothing store
  • Roadside sellers
  • Silhouette of a woman with a bag
  • Man at a shoe shop
  • Portrait of a woman
  • A text beside the book, Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
  • Bride to be poses with her gifts
  • The name of a design company in Lagos
  • Man framed with clothes on a rack
  • Art exhibition pieces
  • Lady holding a calabash
  • Three friends playing a game
  • Lady shopping for clothes
  • Lady with showing an adire bucket hat
  • Lady sitting on the steps
  • Lady in the ocean
  • Lady by the window
  • A street in Lagos - Montgomery road

Day 29 – Not Your Regular Motivational Speech


It’s morning and it sucks, and motivational speeches cannot convince you otherwise.

Waking up can be exhausting. You know you have to do it again – this thing called life – and it leaves you trembling.

Maybe today will be better than yesterday…

You want to believe your smiles won’t always turn into frowns. Perhaps good things don’t have to show up with the bad in tow. And luck and destiny are not always poor bedfellows.

You know better because life has burned you more times than you can count…a lot of times.

What are the odds?

You are not the firstborn child of pessimism or a prophet of doom.

Just like every other person in this world you wish life is a picture. You want to run on the beach, with the wind blowing in your hair, the sun shining in your eyes, and a big smile on your face.

A picture that will stay that way forever and ever.

It’s not working!

There’s no motivation speech sending you out the door. No pop song telling you to live your best life. The quiet voice in your head that comforts you is drowned by your thousands of worries. You are convinced that the only thing you are good at is failing.

Yet you pull yourself together and get up from your bed. You know that life is not picture-perfect, and you’ll break your heart no matter how hard you try.

But you will try…and that makes all the difference. ❤️❤️❤️

#Day 29 of 30 days writing challenge – Not Enough Writers

Photo Credit: Pexels

Day 28 – The Bus


It was a cold morning after the night’s rain and the heavy clouds still drifted lazily in the sky. The air was crisp and clean with the faint smell of ozone. The streets were yet to be filled with people, but the bus was right on schedule. Those that had braved the cold morning and were waiting for the bus were relieved to see it rattling to a stop. There were few passengers already on the bus.

A young woman was the last to climb into the bus. She smiled softly at the driver as she paid her fare, but her eyes were guarded. It was disturbing to see her small frame leaning heavily on a cane as she hobbled towards the back of the bus.

She would have been described as beautiful if she paid a little more attention to her looks. In her other hand, she clutched a flower pot with a cactus plant – it looked dead.

The bus sped past the new government building with its large windows and the national flag in front of its gates fluttering in the wind. The huge doors were open and people moved in and out of the building in a hurry.

There was a man seated behind the bus driver. He wore a black trench coat and a red scarf around his neck. He lifted his head from his hands as the bus hit a bump in the road. Sleepy eyes stared ahead as the city rolled past. Tucked beside him was an old violin with two strings – the bow was taped together in several places and looked as it would fall apart.

In the middle of the bu, a little boy knelt on his seat with his hands and nose pressed against the window. When he leaned back, he saw the imprints on the fogged-up, dirt-streaked glass. He raised a finger and started to draw on the window.

Soon there were three stick figures – a man, a woman, and a child – holding hands. Behind them was a house and tree. The boy settled on his heels and watched his work in fascination.

Everyone was wrapped up in their world and trying to make sense of life in their own way. Inside the hunk of metal with seats that smelled of cheap leather, and were riddled with holes, worlds collide. And on and on the bus went – wheels rolled on narrow and broad streets, while shops and buildings raced beside it.

#Day 28 of 30 days writing challenge – Not Enough Writers

Photo Credit: Pexels

Day 27 – Left


The neighbor’s filthy dog was barking at squirrels again, and Gary’s head felt like it would split in two. The damn dog should have all of its teeth knocked out.

What the hell?

Oh! he felt like shit. He would need a minute or so to get acquainted with the plaster on the ceiling.

It was dark outside, which could only mean that he had spent most part of the day in bed? He assumed it was still the same day. It could be morning already.

He moved his eyes gingerly across the room, and barely registered the mess or the smell – dirty clothes, broken furniture, pizza boxes, beer bottles – some with pee in them. There was dried vomit on the carpet and a layer of dust over everything.

Gary made to sit up but the pounding in his head got worse.

There was a bottle of painkillers in the bathroom, and he did not welcome the thought of getting up from his bed.


Something nagged at the back of his mind.

He groaned as he pulled himself up even as his head threatened to fall off. Cursing under his breath, he made his way slowly to the bathroom.

Drinking heavily on an empty stomach was a bad idea. The hangover was not sexy.

 So why did he do it?

Mariah would have told him that he was stupid. He thought she was stupid for leaving him. She would have placed a bowl of soup and a glass of water beside the bed.

Shit! The thing that was at the back of his mind.

That was why he was drinking, wasn’t it?

He didn’t want to remember she left him.

His knees buckled but he managed to stay upright and even reached the bathroom without falling on his face. He propped himself up by resting his upper body on the sink and grabbed the bottle of painkiller from the cabinet above. He noticed that Mariah did not take her sleeping pills with her or was that her anxiety pills. Everything was blurry.

Also, his mouth was too dry. Where was the bloody beer?

And who was the man staring at him with red eyes, matted hair, and filthy clothes?

His reflection in the mirror over the sink was making him sick. His legs could no longer hold his body up. Hands clutching the pills, he put his back against the wall and slid to the floor.

Weak from not eating well, it took him three tries to open the bottle. When he finally opened it, he couldn’t remember how many he was supposed to take. Well, he couldn’t remember when last he took a shower either.

He took the pills. And then some. Only because he wanted to stop feeling like Zeus was using his head for target practice.

His eyes were so heavy. Ah! So sleepy. He could feel the darkness closing in – he would dream now – maybe Mariah would be there, and things would be like it used to be before – the shower would have to wait.

#Day 27 of 30 days writing challenge – Not Enough Writers

Photo Credit: Pexels

Day 26 – How My Blogging Experience Has Been


My experience blogging has been one of a kind. I’m more comfortable reading than writing. You can find me curled up with a book and I’ll stay that way for a long time. But I wanted to own a blog, so I had to write. It was not as easy as I thought.

What I thought blogging was in the beginning

When I started blogging, I wanted to share stories and pictures in this space. I was really excited to begin the journey because of all that was happening at the time – wrote a memoir about it. What I wasn’t aware of was that I had to be intentional about blogging.

After my first blog post, it took me weeks to write another. Hah! I did not have any inspiration on what to write. Lol. All I knew was that my friends had blogs and shared the links with people. Tada!

It would take me months of researching blogs before I could make sense of what blogging was all about.

Sidebar: In retrospect, I should have done the research first before googling, ‘How to Open a Blog on WordPress.’ It would have saved me the headaches and confusion.

What blogging is like for me

It was such a relief to find out that I could write about anything. That I could blog about my experiences on this blue-green planet and everything that it involves.

The most important thing should be that my content is relatable and connects with my audience. However, by the time I realized that another worry had set in.

Already I had posted a couple of stories and shared the links with friends and family- usual. I got comments, which was awesome. As people started getting involved, I had to become committed.

When my close friends pointed out typos and grammatical errors in my work, I had to improve my writing (got a long way to go). I was getting obsessed with the number of likes and views. And google was feeding me articles like – How to Grow Your Blog in a Month; How to Write SEO Optimized Articles; 10 Ways to Make Money from Your Blog, etc. Stuff that I wasn’t even thinking about but the algorithm thought I needed to know.

It was crazy. It was another hurdle I had to face. Several times I just wanted to walk away from everything.

Sidebar again: It was chaotic. I didn’t know that so much went into writing – all kinds of writing – or blogging for that matter. I was spending days trying to complete a story. Did my favorite authors have to suffer like so? I see why writing should be a full-time job, please.

I tried and tried, again and again

Two years after and I’m still blogging, and I still face challenges – I’m not so disciplined and I did not grow my audience in one month. I’ve since read books on writing and experienced the biting wind of criticism.

Sometimes I hide behind the characters in my stories. They reflect my inner turmoil, my faith, my dreams, my photography, my excitement about life, and the things that make me come alive. I started an interview series – why not? I got to know a lot of people and make great connections, and I plan to do more interviews this year.

Still blogging and loving it

My blog feels a lot like raising a first child. It has also been a lot of fun and a lot of tears. One thing I love-love the most is the people that encourage me. And I’m grateful for the feedback I get. The experience has been amazing, and it has helped me in a way to grow into the person that I am. I’m still testing the waters, and have a lot to learn. The good news is, I look forward to it with stars in my eyes. Cheers!

#Day 26 of 30 days writing challenge – Not Enough Writers

Photo Credit: Pexels

Day 25 – Date Night


It was 4 hours, 46 minutes, and 31 seconds since my date with Austin ended, and I needed an ambulance. I was curled up on my couch, my red dress was on the floor, and my shoes were somewhere…I don’t know. I was devastated.

Why o why did I agree to go on a date with him?

‘Because you were not thinking with your head, Ode,’ My inner Sherlock answered.

I deserved that.

Ah! Austin…

This was how it all started.

I got to know Austin from Instagram. One day, he slid into my dm – that’s my Instagram business page where I sell fitness wears. He said he was on a weight loss journey and wanted me to recommend fitness wears to buy. When he asked me if I could deliver the next day, I was like, ‘Heck yeah! Show me the money!’ I was more than happy to help.

Austin turned out to be a dream customer – no bullshit, paid on time, and gave great feedback and referrals – good vibes all day.

We moved to WhatsApp. We talked a lot, did video calls, and supported each other. He became my partner in rubbish behavior, confidante, business adviser, and hype man. His weight loss journey was a huge success, and I never left him to forget the role I played.

Austin wanted to take things to the next level. I thought it was a dumb idea. I got served breakfast in my last relationship, and I wasn’t over it. The only ship I was interested in, was friendship.

I said to Austin, ‘Wo! Abeg I no do.’

Of course, Austin knew about my ex – The bastard.

Fast forward to two weeks ago.

I sent Austin a screenshot of this red dress. It was backless and had a thigh-high slit at the side. It was a gorgeous dress. To die for, and I was drooling over it. I would have bought the dress but I wouldn’t know where to go with it. My life was work, gym, food, and Netflix – not a happening babe.

A week after, I got a package and a bouquet of red roses. I told the delivery guy, ‘Oga you sure say na this address?’ My birthday was still far. He confirmed that it was the right address.

After he left, I quickly opened the package.

It was the red as sin gorgeous dress.

There was a note.

Date night.

We went to a waterfront restaurant. The food, music, and ambiance were perfect. Austin looked so good, in a crisp white shirt, and navy-blue wool trousers. He was turning heads. I was also turning heads in my red dress. Although I didn’t like the attention, the heat in Austin’s eyes made it worth it. My nerves melted away and I was able to relax and enjoy the night. It was perfect.

Austin brought me home and walked me to my door. He told me he thoroughly enjoyed himself and would love for us to do it again.

He said, ‘I know you are not ready for a relationship, but I’ve been ready for us to happen for a long time. And I’m a patient man.’

‘Let me love you, Gbemi. We’ll take it slow, however, you want it. Just give us a chance, that’s all I ask. Please think about it.’ He dropped a light kiss on my cheek and walked back to his car.

4 hours later and I was still thinking about it. Never mind that my couch was my favorite place to be, I felt helpless I just couldn’t shut down my mind. Maybe it was because I hadn’t been on a date in a long time. Or maybe it was Austin confusing my senses.

To be with Austin or not to be with Austin.

One perfect date night and I was reconsidering my single status.

Photo Credit: Canva

#Day 25 of 30 days writing challenge – Not Enough Writers

Day 24 – Lagos

Photo by Rigozo


I’ve never stepped foot outside the borders of Nigeria. I was born and bred in Lagos State, which is in Western Nigeria. I have lived and visited other states in different regions – East, West, North, and South.

Lagos is the former capital of Nigeria. It’s a megacity (largest city in Nigeria and the second-largest city in Africa) comprising of a mainland and an island, with a population of about 15.3 million people. It’s well known as an economic, entertainment, and fashion hub.

It is home to me, and like people say, there’s no place like home.

I can say with my full chest, ‘there’s no place like Lagos.’


Here are four things that you’ll need to know about Lagos if you are visiting for the first time or returning after a long time.


People who reside in Lagos are called Lagosians, and they are all mad. No jokes. The madness is in the air, the food and water, and wherever two or three Lagosians are gathered. Lagosians sleep with one eye open (if they sleep at all), and because everybody is sleep derived, tempers run high, and fists fly at the slightest offense. Drivers in Lagos are a menace. They’ll give the Fast and Furious franchise a run for their money. Every day is one drama after another. Just try not to get into an argument with Lagosians – it’s not worth it.

Danfo (Yellow Bus)

Danfos (yellow buses) are the bloodline of Lagos’ transport system -the most common way to move around Lagos. Enter a danfo at your own risk. Better still, if you can afford it, call an uber. But if you ever find yourself in a danfo, make sure that it is going in your direction, have your complete fare to avoid stories that touch, and when you get to your bus stop, be ready to jump out of the danfo while it’s still moving because the driver may not stop the bus.

Photo by Rigozo

Lagos Traffic

You’ve called your Uber driver, you’ve jumped on a Danfo, Keke (tricycle), or Okada (motorbikes). Good. Now settle down for the ride because Lagos traffic is nobody’s mate. You’ll arrive at your destination wishing you had never stepped out of your house. It’s why Lagosians arrive at events late and are famous for this excuse, ‘There was traffic,’ A lot of things happen in Lagos traffic – signing contracts, buying household appliances, a pregnant woman delivering a baby,

Owambe (Parties)

It is an Owambe if there’s free food, a live band or DJ playing loud music, the women try to out dress themselves in their asoebis and geles, people spray money on the dancefloor like water, and souvenirs were. When you’re having a wedding, naming ceremony, an anniversary, or even a burial (celebration of life), it’s an unspoken rule to throw a party – whether you can afford it or not – and invite family, friends, village people, neighbors, and colleagues. Not even the pandemic was able to stop Lagosians from attending Owambe.

If you ever find yourself in Lagos, don’t forget to have fun and say Hi to me. Know that I’ll decline to meet you if it means I have to leave the house.

Photo Credit: Pexels

#Day 24 of 30 days writing challenge – Not Enough Writers

Day 23 – Guilt


Is the life of a man mapped so that he unfailingly fails?

Or the dream of perfection forever lost in the waking moments?

And what are consequences if not the casualties of actions

I hid my misdeeds beneath layers of lies and deceit

It shunned the revealing light caused darkness to grow implicit

With time I learned how to do tricks and illusions

sufficient to grow my sleeves longer whenever I draw a cut

while I mask the dread and bereavement with my smiles

If my fate had been read and so revealed the future that is now

Why… I would have recoiled in righteous horror

And so I fashioned a barrow for my guilt

of blood, bone, and tissue this prison I built

Without mercy, I drowned my conscience in filthy water

And turned deaf ears to the voices that cried for retribution

This guilt is the cross that I’m burdened with for all of eternity

A torment that weighs me down and sinks my soul in despair

Photo Credit: Pexels

#Day 23 of 30 days writing challenge – Not Enough Writers

Day 22 – War


It was a year after the first clash of swords between the two kingdoms, still, the fires raged on. The war was tearing everything apart. I couldn’t fathom the reason behind all the mindless killing, raping, and looting. Because at the heart of it that’s what war really is – madness.

Transporting refugees out of the kingdom was a task I volunteered for. It was no different from living off the streets as an orphan – which was my life before the war broke out – hiding from danger and trying to survive. Sometimes I tried to remember if there ever was a time when I had truly experienced peace in my life.

Peace is an illusion. Death is the only real thing that I know.

We arrived in the dead of the night at the ship dock and herded the survivors – women, children, the old, and the wounded – into large crates. They were a battered lot. The march had been long and dreadful over barren lands, and under the threat of annihilation if discovered by the enemy. It was just our luck that the moon hung bright in the sky, and so we were able to find our way without attracting unwanted attention.

It was my turn to stand guard. I leaned on one of the crates as I watched and listened for threats. In the cold night, my breaths formed mists like a fire-breathing dragon, yet, it was not just the temperature that caused goosebumps to appear on my skin. Occasionally, I would hear a noise from inside the crates – children and adults alike, crying in their sleep. Knowing what they must have gone through the last few days, it was no surprise that their dreams were hellish nightmares. I was chilled to the bones just thinking about it.

Thankfully, my shift ended before my butt froze completely. I left my weapon with the new guard and went in search of a spot to lay my head until morning. Packed as it was with warm bodies, inside the crater was the best place to thaw from the cold.

I was careful not to step on anybody; the poor bastards needed all the rest they could get because we still had a long way to go. Lucky for me, I found a good spot and wedge myself in.

As I was drifting off to sleep, I heard voices talking quietly in the dark -a woman and a child.

‘Just a bad dream.’ The woman said.

The child sniffed loudly, ‘I’m scared, mama.’

‘It’s okay to be scared. I’m also scared too. But we have each other, and everything will be fine.’

‘Promise?’ The child asked.

‘Of course, I promise. Besides, the war will soon be over. After it all settles, we’ll return home, just in time for the planting season.’

Unlikely, I thought.

The war would rage on because both kingdoms were fevered with blood lust. I was certain that it was just the beginning. When the sun touched the horizon, we would continue the march to the southern borders. It was still several weeks away, and many of us would not make it.

And why don’t you save your own skin? You don’t owe these people anything? Run far away.

The same old argument I had with myself.

I shut out the voices, including the ones in my head, and soon I was fast asleep.

Photo Credit: Pexels

#Day 22 of 30 days writing challenge – Not Enough Writers

Day 21 – Data Analysis


‘We are finished.’

Eket walked into the room with her hands on top of her head.

‘God forbid. Eket, you have come again. You might be finished, but I’m not finished. What happened?’ Gideon noticed that the office gossip was looking rather serious.

She pulled Gideon to the hallway. ‘Did you know that we have a new inspector?’ She asked.

‘You’ll break my hand o, stop pulling it. Why are you so dramatic? Yes, we have a new inspector.’                         

‘Ehn! You know. And you did not tell me. Gideon are you not wicked like this?’ Eket cried.

‘Wicked? How kwanu? Why should I tell you something that you already know?’

‘I don’t get.’

Gideon snapped. ‘Was it not announced at the last general meeting that the old inspector was retired, and a new inspector would take over his duties?’

‘Wait for o! Are you serious? But…but I wasn’t at the last general meeting.’ Eket confessed.

‘Oh ho!’ Gideon said and shook his head tragically. ‘Madam, please don’t disturb me. It’s your fault.’

‘Don’t be like that now. I had something to do that day, so I left early. It was Sisi Vero that covered for me sha.’ Eket said.

‘Mba, mba. Please! I don’t want to hear about your nefarious activities before you put me into trouble.’

Eket slapped his arm. ‘Your own sef is too much.’

‘I’m warning you. If you break my hand, I’ll break your hand too. Don’t tell me about the crimes you’ve committed, before they call me your accomplice. I don’t want wahala.’

Eket put her hands on her waist and glared at Gideon.

‘If you are going to stand there looking like I owe you money or something, I’ll go back inside. I have work to do.’ Gideon moved away, but Eket grabbed his hand and pulled him back.

‘Just calm down abeg! Somebody cannot talk to you again.’

Gideon sighed. What is it with women and not getting straight to the point?

 ‘I’m calm! What do you want?’

‘I came to ask about the new inspector. Have you seen her?’ She asked impatiently.

‘No, I haven’t. Her? I thought it would be a man.’

Eket smiled triumphantly, ‘So you did not know it was a woman. Now you know. Kemi in accounting told me. We are in big trouble. You know how women like to behave when they have small power. They’ll be raising shoulders up, said be shouting anyhow. Kemi told me that she has a former colleague that told her that she has a friend that has worked with the new inspector before…she said the new inspector will show us pepper.’

‘Atarodo abi atagungun?’ Gideon asked with a straight face.

‘Is this the time to be cracking jokes? Did you not hear what I said just now? This is…’

‘No. I don’t want to hear anything. This is just you gossiping about somebody that you hardly know.’

‘Who said I’m gossiping? This is just data analysis. I’m sharing information with you and we are strategically analyzing it.’

Gideon looked at her as if she had just grown two heads.

‘Eket! So data analysis is the new name for gossip these days.’ He said in disbelief.

‘See ehn, gossip is a dirty word, and I can never ever gossip about anybody. I even told Kemi the other day that…’

Eket stopped talking as a woman walked into the hallway with several people trailing her. The heels she was wearing made her look taller than her actual height but it was obvious that she was a tall woman. Her well-tailored suit and skirt gave her an air of sophistication, and unlike the people around her that looked flustered, she was well composed.

Gideon and Eket murmured greetings when the group reached them. They received answering nods, but the group did not slow down. Soon they turned into the next hallway and were out of sight.

Eket clapped her hands and looked at Gideon. Her face was a mask of horror. ‘That’s her o. THAT IS THE NEW INSPECTOR. Did you see her now? Mbok, I told you…she’ll be wearing shoulder pads. She didn’t even look at us or respond to our greetings. Women ehn! Too proud.’

‘Is your data analysis complete now or do you need more information?’ Gideon asked.

‘You gerrit. Yes, I need more information.’ Eket was smug as she said, ‘Mister man, shouldn’t you be working? Is like you want this new inspector to be on your case abi. Move abeg, let me find Kemi, and give her the update.’ Eket pushed him aside and walked into the office.

Gideon stood dazed for a moment. He concluded that he would never ever understand women.

Photo Credit: Pexels