On Writing, Uncertainties, And A Renewed Hunger For The Baby Girl Lifestyle

Some days my thoughts feel feeble. They fail to meet my standard of creativity and common sense, so I dissociate myself from them. I hold back moments of meditation, clip the wings of my imagination, and stifle inspiration. I am Elyon’s Paradise, Chef of soulful buffets; no sour thought should slip out of my thumb. Meticulous with this mental gatekeeping, I watch myself get detached from writing.

These days I’m careful to call myself a writer. I do not think I deserve such honour conferred on responsible wordsmiths who have paid their dues through consistent documentation of their thought processes. These guys show up at work, wrestle with their keyboards (or notepads), and smear blank sheets with words. Whether those words eventually find a place amongst drafts or in the recycle bin, they at least get a benefit of doubt; something my writing is frequently deprived of.

Sometimes I darn the quest for common sense and give my “feeble” thoughts the benefit of doubt too, but no sooner do they surface do I erase them from my memory, including the recycle bin. My obsession with refined words keeps me hyper sensitive to my own detriment (or not, I’m honestly not sure about anything right now). Words survive my mental gatekeeping only to face restless eyes darting about them in search of a creative rot. The bottom line? I ain’t sure about my writing anymore.

Maybe I’m seeking a new kinda validation, something to restore my confidence and reinstate my “writer-ness”. But how much can that accomplish? An applause feels great, but I’ve had plenty. You write goods, nice ones, awws, this is breathtakings, and the usual compliments are all grand for a writer wannabe (which is a more convenient title than writer), but when they come once in a blood moon, they feel depressive. And this isn’t the readers’ fault. A writer wannabe chose to shush the voices in her head seeking expression because they didn’t seem creatively buffet-like enough.

This blog was set up primarily to nourish souls, and the vision hasn’t changed. But sometimes I feel the weight of this vision the same way I feel the burden of entering any kitchen. I am a good cook who loves the idea of creative and spicy meals, but absolutely hates the process of making them. It’s the reason I could go hungry for hours even though all the ingredients needed for a great meal are staring at me. I carry this attitude into my writing, obviously.

I used to think cooking was a passion until I realized the biggest pull towards the kitchen is having hungry folks around. That’s why a friend who’s assigned herself the General Overseer of my eating habits thinks living alone is a disastrous adventure I should never embark on. To her, that would be the harbinger of my eventual disappearance. But I wish this pull towards the kitchen influences my writing as well. I mean, if I cannot write for me, why not for my committed readers?

The hunger for what I write isn’t a thing undisclosed. I’ve had readers send me emails, and reminders on Messenger and WhatsApp about not cooking anything on the blog for a while, and I feel ashamed each time. Such reminders make me feel like a mom who leaves her babies hungry just because she doesn’t feel like cooking. And as much as I feel obligated to do something about this, I feel somewhat powerless.

I am one human who hates doing anything under pressure, no matter how crazy I am about it. And nothing currently sends my head to a thousand places like writing. I feel the rushing of words through my mind, and the pressure of sieving out sensible contents from all the mental babble. About two years ago, a friend advised me to allow the words pour. He warned me against tempering with the first draft. But two years down the line I’m still the make-sense-or-get-off-my-screen kinda writer (wannabe). I am too careful to allow words bereft of spirit, soul, and common sense, sizzle through my readers’ senses. The need to always bring on the creative juices thus leaves me overwhelmed.

Where do I go from here, from this place of a writer who absolutely hates writing to one who adores writing? Is this feeling even sane- is it okay to have a blog I’m scared of visiting because I do not know how to reconcile the silence in here with the voices in my head? They say no genuine writer enjoys writing; should I embrace that as validation for this feeling of unworthiness? They also say a real writer darns all detachment from writing, and just writes. Does that explain this new self-imposed writer wannabe status?

Maybe I’m just a pseudo-writer in search of creative processes that would write out themselves. Perhaps this isn’t as much a feeling of feebleness of thought as the desire to allow words just laze around my head in peace. I mean, what’s the rush? Some days I’m hungry, other days I’m a glutton. Okay, this isn’t about food dear foodies; but you get the drift? Maybe… I’m just this baby girl who wants to sleep, wake up and find her works published around the web by some supernatural wordsmith.


Post Edit: So my friend asked me what the baby girl lifestyle is about, and I thought you might want to know as well.

The baby girl lifestyle is the lifestyle where you don’t sweat to get beautiful things. Na dem dey rush you. Like, you just sleep, wake up and fiam, the world has another Chimamda Adichie. Hehehe.

I breathe in music, and exhale words tastefully woven for your soul's pleasure. When high on sarcasm, I could smash your ribs into fine pieces. But whether on a stage, singing out my heart, on in Solitude, scribbling out mysteries, my greatest aim is to bless humanity with the essence of my being.


  • JedidiahInk

    When I began reading, my thoughts were, ‘okay, Temi has a blog, let me see, I thought she sings…’

    That curiosity isn’t the same with were I am now, these words resonates a lot of thoughts that’s been baking in my oven.

    The need to write, to have the perfect articles, to respond with connecting words to reach the souls of men and bring healing, slipping into their hearts via the tea of your words, drive out the cold and fill the stomach with multiple course meals but, what about all the plain sheets that refused to spirit in words that will just be perfect?

    I have lots to say, I am wondering, Temi, what can i do without you?

    I love you and I’m looking for the occasional and frequent meals that will be coming from your kitchen.

    Thank you, I have it saved for future references.

    Keep bleeding ink.

    Pen on Writer.

  • Naza

    Sometimes, our personal problems bleed into our writing. Like out of the abundance of the heart, the hand writes.
    But Sha write everything, you may not need to post it but write it down. You’ll be amazed how the greatest article come from this shitty beginnings

    • Temi Enemigin

      You’re right. I mean, there use to be a “shittier” beginning. I’ll allows the words thrive, here or in the secret. I hope all of the pieces will make sense someday.

      Thank you, Naza.

  • Pere Amamy

    😀… All I could just do was to laugh throughout my sail on this post. You know how it feels when you’re reading something that describes you…

    Thank You Temi…

  • Omare

    You always and eventually get into the kitchen and make an awesome meal, in fact a creative one. No matter the dilemma, we go always get to read, read and read your work! I celebrate you girl.

  • Collins

    Beautiful one. Sometimes when we feel incapable to do what we were born to do, that’s when we find endless abilities and strength. That’s when we open ourselves up to the endless help staring us all the time. When we are weak, then we are strong. Thanks wordsmith.

    • Temi Enemigin

      You’re right, Collins. In all of these I realise there’s actually no place I could run that writing wouldn’t find me. My pen could feel rusty and meh, but it will bleed words to the thirsty. This is what Yahweh has blessed him with. I’ll trust him to inspire me to prepare awesome meals here.

  • Rashidat

    I felt like these words were my own baby girl expression of being a pseudo writer. I haven’t come out with any motivational piece in years, so I can relate.

    • Temi Enemigin

      Babe, I understand how crazy these things can be. We’re out of school and passionate about bagging that content writing job. We eventually get the job. Great thing, except that we become passionate about meeting official deadlines- a kinda writing that doesn’t quite express our unique style.

      I hope you find time to do those awesome motivational pieces again, babe. I’ve missed those writings which greatly inspired me when I rediscovered my love for words back in Uni.

      I love you babe.

  • Erin/Kitty Jade

    This is such an interesting post. It’s beautiful! Your style of writing is so high in quality and I feel privileged you are reading my blog. After reading your bio I understand you may like my last post (The Cello Tag). We have a lot in common, and this being the first post I’ve read I know it’s a great starter to the things beyond.
    Great blog girl!

  • Jessica

    I am a human who hates doing anything underpressure, no matter how crazy I am……. well you’ve spoken for both of us. We’ve had more shittier situations and overcome it, that’s life. This wannabe writer phase will soon be over. Just keep being you!!!😘😘😘😘

    • Temi Enemigin

      Oh, there goes another human who hates doing things under pressure. Babe, ees like ees the same mama that born us. Too bad, sometimes we can’t help it. When necessity demands, there are some things we’ll do under pressure. I wish writing wouldn’t be one of them.

      And about shitty situations?
      They’ll be over before you know it.😘

  • Evi

    Lol great write-up for someone who says she doesn’t know what to write about, and is shying away from the title—writer. You are gifted, don’t give it up.

    • Temi Enemigin

      😂😂😂😂 Thank you so much, Evi. I constantly try telling myself to be less hard on myself because of people like you who make me see the beauty in my words.

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