Showing posts with label In Search of Paradise. Show all posts
Showing posts with label In Search of Paradise. Show all posts

Wednesday, 8 November 2023

Book Sale In Search of Paradise


Occasionally as my skills get better, I like to improve aspects of my work where possible. I particularly love this new cover so I'm discounting my book by a lot to promote it. Please do buy for yourselves and your friends. It's that affordable.
Share this post and I just might buy YOU a copy. I want you to enjoy it. I know you will. So choose how you want to get it. Buy? Share? the choice is yours.
Christmas is around the corner after all.

Wednesday, 1 February 2023

In Search of Paradise


I am enjoying the process of creating book trailers. It's a very productive way to procrastinate and also a lot of fun. Also hopefully it attracts some readers to my books. 
What do you think? Waste of time or helpful?

Saturday, 29 January 2022

In Search of Paradise: Missing Scenes


As part of my New Year's resolution to pay more attention to my books, and utilize the tools at my disposal to grow my brand, here is a video of me narrating the missing scene posted on HubPages.
Enjoy.

Sunday, 16 January 2022

Missing Scenes as Marketing?

 Hi guys,

Having woken up and found my mojo again in this year of our lord 2022 I not only intend to finish writing Marcus Devereux - which is intimidatingly good FYI but also, give my already published books some love. 

Starting with In Search of Paradise, which is really, well, I won't say my best work because they're all good, but it does go its own direction right. Gay Africans, rugby, set in Nairobi but then also the apocalypse...it's real but also fantastical. 

Anyway, I'm trying a thing where I post missing scenes on my hub page.

I've just put up the first one. Go take a look and tell me how you like it.




Thursday, 27 September 2018

May I Have Some More?

People can compliment you on your cooking, your writing; whatever creations you make. They can say things like:
"Wow, you're talented."
"That was really good."
"I really enjoyed that."
And they mean it, and they're sincere and you probably believe them half the time. But you know what the greatest compliment a person can give your work is?
"Can I have more?"
It's true for food, movie sequels, and sex. It is most definitely true for stories.
And because a lovely young lady on Facebook asked me this week if I have more of the Ben and Zawadi story (that's what she called it) here is an outtake.
Enjoy.
"Zawadiiii!"
Anders startled awake at the sound of their mother shouting. He blinked a few times, trying to acclimatize to the brightness of the sun, shining through his yellow curtains. There was no response from Zawadi's room, just across from his, and he sighed, slipping out of bed to go shake her awake before their mother decided to do it.
If their mother had to come and find Zawadi, the day would not begin well. He trudged across the darkened hallway and banged on his sister's door.
"Z! Unaitwa," he shouted, telling her she was being called.
He heard some muffled groaning from the other side of the door but not much else.
"Zawadi eh!" his mother called sounding much nearer, "Kuja unisaidie." (come help me)
Anders sighed, deciding to just go down himself and help his mother before everybody's day was ruined. Ever since her father had left, Zawadi had been cold and distant with both of them.
But especially Anders.
She blamed him for their mother throwing her father out.
Thirteen years of doing nothing but drinking mnazi and spending their mother's hard earned money all the while insulting her first born child could not be it. Oh no, it was Anders who made mama chase her baba away!
Anders sighed, shaking his head as dismissed those thoughts. He took a step out the front door to find his mother with her basket of curios, ready to go to the market. He picked up a bag and put it on his head, and gripped another in his hand.
He walked slowly and silently behind his mother as they made their way to the matatu stage. She didn't ask where Zawadi was and he didn't volunteer. They both knew that only time could heal that wound.
They reached the bus stop, Anders' arms aching from the weight of the baskets. He put them both down, standing with his mother as they waited for a matatu to come.
"When you grow up and have your own children," his mother said suddenly, "make sure you will stay with their mother and support her until they grow up."
Anders nodded, his face troubled. He knew his father had gone back to Scandinavia long ago. Now Zawadi's father had left. But...he didn't think he could stay with a woman forever. His eyes slid to his right, where the Akasha boys were hanging out outside their shop like they did every day. There was one, in particular, he was tall and lanky, with light brown eyes and curly soft hair. Anders couldn't help staring every time he passed them. He didn't think he had ever seen anyone so beautiful.
He looked up at his mother, brow furrowed, wondering what she would think if she knew.
Not that he would ever tell her.
Never in a million years.


So in this book, I try to capture the local flavor of life as a Kenyan; although that is not a homogenous experience at all so it's just my interpretation. So there's some Kiswahili mixed in (all of which gets translated if only in the footnotes) and Kenyanisms that other people might wonder at (also check footnotes. My beta was an American so she was really helpful in pointing things out other people might not understand). Yeah, so do get back to me and tell me how I did. I would love to know.
Also, I entered this book in a book contest on inkitt if you wanna like go there and show In Search of Paradise some love.

Monday, 30 July 2018

Book Marketing 101; Would You Like An Excerpt?

I am escalating my book marketing both here and on TwitterInstagram and Facebook. I've come to realize that constantly bombarding people with awareness is the only way to make some headway unless you want to resort to nefarious means (the book industry is a sharkfest) or join KDP rocket (No, just no) and let them monopolize your works. This way is much slower because you're basically the equivalent of standing in the street, handing out fliers and then reading the flier to the person you handed it to, and then explaining the flier to them and then leading them slowly and gently to the book site.
It's crazy. Probably not suited for anyone wanting to make some fast cash.
Moreover, I am not the most patient person, but I'm learning to be. So writing books has been very good for my growth as a human.

That said, let's get this show on the road. This post will be made up of excerpts from my books. First up we have In Search of Paradise.
You might have read the outtake on this site on my birthday last year; you can also find it here: and now, here's a preview of the book. Do take some time, and read it. I guarantee your time back if you don't want to know what happens next.



What did you think? Tell me tell me tell me! 
Next up we have the newly revamped and made over, Child of Destiny. I just recently read this again and I was quite pleased with how it has stood the test of time and improved skill. It's still a great story, with wonderful pacing and vibrant characters. Is it okay to talk like a fan when you're the author? Anyway, here's a preview.



Yeah, I know you're fanning yourself right now, looking around in mortification in case anyone saw you. Wondering if it's based on my own sexual experience... I've been around this block a few times. But aside from all that...how was it? Did you want to know what happened next? Tweet me your thoughts hashtag whatgenreisthis.
Next up! My first published book of fiction. The one my editor called 'a masterpiece'. Seriously I'm not even making that up.



I know y'all are probably reading this in your place of work, so I'll stop here. Have we had fun? Did you enjoy yourself? Let me know.
Feedback is love.

Tuesday, 31 October 2017

The Power of Words

Hello. How was your weekend? Mine was...eventful. I'm still recovering. I'm sleepy and tired and behind in my work. Also, I haven't been paying any attention to you because I haven't had the energy to spare.
Does that happen to you too?

Sometimes you have just about enough energy to keep breathing and that's it. Ugh, speaking of breathing...I'm not doing that so well either.
Anyways, so I want to talk about words today. Words have power. They can cause revolutions, break hearts, change minds, elevate the spirit, or depress it. Kill. Hurt. Heal.
And yet we use them so carelessly every day, don't we? We fling them about like confetti, letting them land as they will without thought to consequences or impact. We're just talking, just joking, just being honest...

On Sunday my son and I went for dinner at a nearby hotel because we were too lacking in energy to cook. When we got back home, it turned out that my son had left the house keys at the restaurant. I'm sure many of you are familiar with that surge of irritation that happens when someone else is careless with our stuff. What do we tend to do about it?
Berate.
Belittle.
I was reminded of (spoiler alert) Jamie Fraser when Claire got lost on her way from a birthing. Her horse threw her and then disappeared so she was alone in the forest in a major downpour and with no way to get home. Anyways, bish bam boom, Jamie, and Ian found her and took her home. And as he was giving her a bath, he tells her that while he's aware that it wasn't her fault, he still feels like giving her a scolding to relieve his feelings. So Claire tells him to scold her in Gaelic because she'll only understand about half the words anyway. And that's what he does.

Back to my son.
So he says he left the keys, and I feel that surge of irritation. But just as I'm opening my mouth to tell him what a careless buffoon he is I pause. And I ask myself, who would you be helping by shouting at him? The deed is done. You can see by his face that he's expecting the word vomit you were about to pour on him. So instead I just held up the 100 bob I had in my hand and said: "Well go and get it."
I was still irritated so I called him a whole bunch of names in my head. Then I settled down and waited for him to come back. Just by his posture, and the way he moved fast to do anything I asked of him that evening and the next day, I could tell he was...relieved? that he hadn't gotten The Lecture. And it took me back to my own childhood and the endless lectures about every little wrong thing I ever did. And I resolved to always think before I opened my mouth, to anyone. Because what could be relieving feelings to one person might be a lifetime of trauma for somebody else.
Do you think Kevin Spacey thought about the impact of his words when he wrote that struggle apology? I think that he did. I think that he was thinking that if he said he was gay people would hesitate to come for him about Anthony Rapp because they would be scared to be labeled homophobic. And for sure, most news outlets led with the "Kevin Spacey comes out" part of the story and not the "Kevin Spacey molested a 14-year-old boy."
I have been Anthony Rapp and the way he says he feels even now was so familiar, I was like yeah, that is exactly how I would feel if I came face to face with that guy again. You're transported right back to that age, that level of fear, that level of helplessness. I'm glad I haven't seen him again. I can't imagine how it must be to see someone's face on TV every day. But back to the power of words; Kevin knew just what his words would do; he was trying to take the wind out the sails of Anthony's words. I'm glad people didn't let him succeed.
My son told me that three boys in his school were expelled for homosexual behavior. So I asked him "if they were caught having sex with girls would they have been expelled?" Because seriously, people being denied their education over their sexual orientation seems a bit harsh to me. And to think that gay people already have all these problems and Kevin Spacey is adding to them by saying, "Oh by the way, when you're drunk and you're gay sometimes you molest small boys" is just not helping.
So watch your words. Think before you speak and all that jazz.
Speaking of using my words, the National Gay and Lesbian Human rights commission could use your help. Whether you subscribe to the idea that gayness is wrong or right, surely you can see that to suppress someone's human rights because of their perceived immorality is not only hypocritical but just plain wrong. Hopefully reading In Search of Paradise will make you see that people are just people, regardless of who they love. Pre-order period is winding down. Three days and it's awverr. See you on the other side.

Friday, 27 October 2017

The Spoils of War

Book Launch for Charity is winding down. We're on like the last seven days on what has been an epic journey of learning and getting the hang of an aspect of writing every writer hates: marketing. I want to thank you for sticking it out with me bombarding your inbox almost daily with my ramblings and musings.
Thank you for your time.
I've been thinking about writing a companion piece to In Search of Paradise. My ableiest of able beta reader asked me a number of questions while we were reading through the manuscript. She was curious about some things which I took for granted as obvious. Things which maybe only Kenyans might understand. Now I put in footnotes to explain those, but I feel like I might just take the time out and flesh things out. What do you think? Should I do that?
I'm also thinking about what next. In about seven days, In Search of Paradise will launch, the price will rise, we'll know how much was made on pre-order and give that to the National Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission. Hopefully, the book will have gained some momentum and I might turn to something else. I am dithering between finishing Cinderella By Any Other Name which is a forced marriage story, and Child of Destiny - Marcus Devereux in which we finally meet the Child of Destiny. Both of them are somewhere about midway or thereabouts. Which one to finish next? Shall I put a poll on my facebook page? What's the best way forward?
Meanwhile, +Rihanna did a shoot for Vogue Arabia where she channels queen Nefertiti. Which is only right since she has Nefertiti under her boobs (as a tattoo). Anyway, I was looking at one picture in particular and it was giving me SPOILER REDACTED vibes for In Search of Paradise. There is this one scene in which seriously if there was a visual representation, she in that outfit would be it...okay I'll give you a slight hint. It involves Zawadi, but it doesn't.
Either way, +Rihanna is the only true ruler I acknowledge. The - fake - ruler of my country just sent his thugs to beat up people and kill them in a slum neighborhood of Nairobi. I think he wants to provoke chaos and blame it on the other guy. Only, the other guy isn't playing those games. I can't believe I'm saying this but I think I've officially joined the resistance. Is this a worldwide thing now? Is it something in the atmosphere or is the apocalypse truly upon us? Anyways, maybe I should pack a small bag of necessities and keep that ready.
Just in case.
Question: What does one pack for the apocalypse? Apart from toilet paper that is...

Wednesday, 18 October 2017

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

A Picumentary


Character Intro


In Search of Paradise is the first ever post-apocalyptic gay African romance that details the Struggle of being gay while attempting to survive the end of the world. You have been introduced to Ben, Anders, and Zawadi in other posts. Today we're just summarising what we know in form of pictures. Because otherwise there's just too much stuff to read.
Right?

Charity

You can pre-order your copy by going here, and hovering your mouse over the picture. It will give you options from Amazon to Kobo whichever you prefer, where you can pre-order In Search of Paradise at a very discounted pre-order rate. It's discounted because we want as many people who can, to pre-order so that we can raise a goodly amount for the National Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission.

The Book Cover

I want you to take a closer look at the cover. Look at Anders' face. Do you see it? His face actually spells LOVE. The black and white background behind Ben and Anders' silhouettes is actually a picture of Uhuru Park in Nairobi. The bottom colored portion of the book cover is shaped like a pyramid and shows the devastation of the Apocalypse. After you read the book you'll have even more appreciation of how awesome that is. 


And Finally

Pre-order period ends on 3rd November which is closer than you think. So hit that link today.

Tuesday, 17 October 2017

Me Too

We've done character intros for Zawadi and Ben, today we're gonna meet Anders. In honor of girls and boys everywhere who are victims of society's failure to hold perpetrators accountable for sexual violence, we're gonna see how Anders lost his virginity.

Pwani

Anders was tall, gangly, not yet grown into his six foot plus body and very naive. His mother was proud that at sixteen years old, her son wasn't out there drinking mnazi and wasting his days. He was home every day after school, helped his sister with housework without complaining and was such a great support to her. During the weekends, when she had to leave them to go to Namanga for business, she knew she was leaving the market stall in good hands. Anders was always ready to help, ready to keep an eye on Zawadi; curb her more...adventurous tendencies.
So when he asked if he could go on a school trip to Lamu Island, she looked for the money till she found it. St. Charles Lwanga mixed day and boarding school was a Catholic establishment. They would make sure nothing bad happened to her boy when he was away from her. 
She was aware of Anders' effect on people. 
His height, cafe au lait clear complexion, long curly hair, his huge amber eyes, and prominent cheekbones...it caused people to look twice at him. 
Maybe three times.
Anders never seemed to notice though. She and Zawadi would sometimes exchange knowing glances when Anders was serving a customer at the stall. They always seemed to have a lot of questions to ask him, many of them nothing to do with the curios they were allegedly buying - both tourists and locals alike, female and male. Anders was always patient and polite, answering their endless questions with a smile. He always made a sale.
Anders' class would be staying overnight in Lamu at a tourist lodge. They would be accompanied by two teachers. It would be alright.
His classmates called him mzungu, which Anders found ironic since a lot of them were lighter skinned than him. But he was a half-caste Maasai and Norwegian, and they were full Waswahili so...them was the breaks. He didn't really mind, it wasn't said in any way that was nasty. He had two close friends in his class; Mo and Ali. They had kind of adopted him on his first day of school and now they were practically the three musketeers. They were all very excited about the trip. The first time for many of them - including Anders - that they would be staying in a hotel.
It was all the teachers could do to get the boisterous lot of them to check in without exploding with ebullience. Finally, they all had their keys - they were sleeping three to a room - and they all ran off to put their bags away. They had a full day of learning ahead and the buses were waiting. As one of Kenya's oldest continually inhabited towns and one of the original Swahili settlements along coastal East Africa, as well as being a UNESCO World Heritage site, there was a lot to learn from the town.  They had a full day's itinerary planned starting from Manda Island and ending with Lamu museum. 
When they got back to the hotel, their high energy was flagging, no matter how much fizzing enthusiasm they might have, the kids were hot, hungry and tired. They were sent off to their rooms for a shower and a nap, but most decided to go swimming instead.
Anders wore his beach shorts and jumped in the pool with his friends, reveling in the coolness of the water. There were a number of tourists sunbathing poolside but the kids ignored them and they, in turn, ignored the kids. Well...most of them ignored the kids. One man couldn't help noticing the tall gangly kid with the soft looking hair and the softer eyes. The open smile, the broad shoulders tapering down to a slim waist. The long legs splashing through the water as he laughed with his friends. His long fingers that looked like they might be long enough to reach interesting places...He sat up, putting his magazine down and just watched them.
The teachers came to collect them for supper and Anders was more than ready to eat. It would not have been an exaggeration to say he was starving. Mo and Ali were equally excited about getting to choose whatever they wanted from the buffet. However much they wanted to eat! It was an orgasmic time.
After dinner, the students were allowed to sit in the lounge or go to their rooms. The rule was everybody in bed by 10 am. Anders and his pals could live with that.
"Let's go for a walk on the beach." Mo said.
"Hakuna wezi?" Ali asked, inquiring on the presence of thieves.
"Ahh, no. Hapa ni Lamu, such things don't happen here," Anders assured them breezily.
So they went walking on the beach, the moon was full creating a spooky effect on the water. It was ethereal and eerie and Anders shivered, just a bit.
"Hello," a voice said from behind them and they all jumped, spinning around fists up, ready to fight.
"Ey, relax. I saw you guys walking and thought I would join you. I'm at the same hotel as you." 
The boys put their fists down. It was just some old, fat white guy. 
"I am Rogers. What are your names?" he asked holding out his hand to be shaken.
They told him as he shook hands. Anders had to pull a bit to get him to let go, but he dismissed it as Rogers just being overfriendly with the light-skin. They walked for a bit longer and then Rogers offered to buy them drinks at the bar of the hotel.
"No-" Anders said just as Mo and Ali both said, "Yes-"
"You guys are Muslims, you're not supposed to drink," Anders pointed out.
"Oh we're not drinking alcohol, "Mo said exchanging glances with Ali, "He didn't say alcohol he said drinks."
Anders pursed his lips but went along with them. When Rogers asked what they were having, he said Fanta. Mo had some sort of fruity cocktail and Ali took a virgin mojito. Rogers sat with them, asking them questions about school and their families. 
"I've been greatly interested in sponsoring a local boy to university, " he said looking at Anders, "Would any of you be looking for such a once in a lifetime opportunity?"
Mo was all over that like a cheap suit, and Rogers asked him questions like he might actually be serious like how his grades were and which university he wanted to attend. Anders sipped his Fanta.
Ali looked at his watch, "Time for bed, guys," he said.
"Oh," Rogers said looking disappointed, "You have to go now?"
The three boys all stood up, "Yes we have a curfew."
"Okay, but I have some brochures and business cards in my room. Why don't we go there first so I can give them to you?"
"Okay," Mo said just as Anders said, "We can't.."
"Ah come on Mzungu, it's only a few minutes!" Mo cajoled, "We won't be in trouble."
Anders sighed, "Fine. But we better hurry up. My mom will kill me if I get suspended."
Ali just laughed and they followed Rogers to his room.

 Rogers was fumbling with some papers on his nightstand. He urged the boys to just have a seat while he was looking for, whatever.
Mo had made himself comfortable in the chair, going so far as to switch on the TV. Ali was looking around curiously while Anders sat at the edge of the bed nearest the door.
"I had them here...somewhere," Rogers mumbled. He picked up a piece of paper and turned around. Digging his wallet out of his pocket he removed a thousand shilling note.
"I can only find one copy. You Mo and Ali, could you go to the front desk and ask them to make copies? Keep change."
Mo was up in a flash but Ali was there before him, reaching for the money. Anders stood up as well. 
Rogers made a 'sit back down' gesture with his hands, "Anders you stay. You don't need three people to photocopy a sheet of paper, and I wanted to ask you a few questions."
"Umm," Anders said not really on board with this plan but Mo and Ali were already leaving. Anders watched the door slam behind them in surprise. His reactions seemed to have slowed a bit, and his head felt a bit woozy. He turned in surprise to find Rogers sitting right next to him, hand on his knee.
"Alone at last," he said and smiled.
Anders tried to stand up, to move away, but his body wasn't cooperative.
"What..?" he tried to ask but his tongue was so heavy in his mouth. Suddenly there was another tongue in his mouth and a hand on his crotch.
He stiffened trying to push Rogers away. But his hands were so weak.
Rogers was pushing him down onto the bed, pushing down his shorts. Anders tried to fight in earnest but he had no strength in his limbs. They would not obey him.

'What did you do to me?'  he thought frantically - his head the only part of him apparently still in his control.
'It's because he knows you're a dirty fag' a voice said in his head, one that sounded a lot like Akasha - Zawadi's father.
Whatever the man did to him, it hurt like a motherfucker. But the hurt dimmed beside the helplessness he was feeling. The guilt in his head telling him this was all his fault, he asked for this, why did he even come here.
He heard knocking on the door, and somewhere inside he sighed with relief and horror. His teachers had come to rescue him perhaps? He didn't want them to see him like this!
He lay on the bed, unable to move his hands so he could pull up his shorts, or pull down his shirt. The man - Rogers - opened the door a bit. Whoever was there he wasn't going to let them in.
"Oh, your friend?" Anders heard him say, "He left already. He wanted to go to bed."
Footsteps going away.
Ali and Mo were going to leave him to the mercy of this monster. 
Nobody would save him.
Anders tried to lift his hand, to move.
"Shh, don't worry. It will have worn off by morning. You probably won't remember a thing," the man said.
He then proceeded to take his shorts off, and lift his legs up in the air, "Just...relax," he said with a groan.
Anders would have screamed if his vocal chords would have cooperated.
'Help me, help me, help me.'

"Where can he be?" Mo asked as they entered the room.
Ali said nothing.
Mo turned to him, eyebrows raised.
"Maybe we shouldn't have left him alone with that man," Ali said softly.
Mo's eyes widened, "What are you saying?"
"Let's go back. Let's go back and ask him where Anders is."Ali said.
Mo stared at his friend who avoided his eyes. 
"Okay."
They went back and knocked, and knocked.
"What?" Rogers irritated voice said from behind the door.
"Anders is not in our room. Which way did you say he went?" Mo asked not bothering to keep his voice down.
Rogers opened the door, "I don't know where he went, now go away." he said.
Ali reached out and held the door as Rogers tried to close it, "Sir, this could be a police case if you don't help us. Anders dad is a mzungu also. Ebu tell us where he is."
Rogers' face blanched and he became pale, "He drank some alcohol and passed out. I didn't want to expose him but he's still here, sleeping." he said.
Ali stepped closer, "We'll take him to the room. It's okay," he said and pushed the door open wider so he could step past Rogers. He swallowed as he saw Anders curled up on the bed like a discarded rag doll. He pulled at Anders' unresponsive hands glancing at Mo to help him. Together they maneuvered Anders onto his feet, dragging him to the door.
"Oh, and here is your change," Ali said flinging it at Rogers.
"No, it's okay, keep it," Rogers said.
"No thanks," Ali said as they pulled Anders away.
Rogers was right, Anders didn't remember a thing in the morning. Mo and Ali never said a word.
He was still never the same though.

Fin

In Search of Paradise available for preorder now.
All pre-order proceeds go to the National Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission.
When I first suspected I was pregnant, I went to a Mayo Clinic near my apartment for a checkup. I told the doctor my suspicions and he asked me to strip. He was very skeptical of my self-diagnosis so I thought maybe he needed to do an ultrasound or something. He did not give me a hospital gown but told me to lie down on the bed. 
Naked.
There was no nurse.
He then began to probe me.
Even with all my prior experience of men being trash, it didn't occur to me that a doctor in a reputable clinic would take advantage of me in such a way. He touched my boobs, my vagina...and then he told me that yes, I was pregnant. He told me to get dressed and come back for a checkup at a later date.
It was only when I thought about it later that I realized that I had been violated. 
This is just one story. I have several hundred.
What about you?


Monday, 9 October 2017

Birthday Post - Outtake

It's my birthday and I'll cry if I want to,
cry if I want to,
cry if I want to.
I feel like crying right now because it feels like a shiv is stabbing my abdomen continuously. Ah, the joys of womanhood.

It's my birthday today; I'm turning very old. But I don't look it so it's cool. This year, my birthday is all about giving, so I'm gonna give you something and you can pay it forward by pre-ordering the book; you know by now that the proceeds go to charity. 
What I'm gonna give you, is...a story. Since it's what I allegedly do best. The little story Imma tell you is a snapshot of Ben's life. This snapshot is not in the book, but when you do read the story you'll be able to guess the 'when' it occurs in Ben's life.

Even If You Win, You Lose

Ben lay prone on the grass, blinking up at the Nairobi blue sky, breathing hard. That game had been brutal. His cousins might be young but they were all little savages; more difficult opponents than any rugby team he'd ever faced. He could hear his father and uncle laughing uproariously from the verandah as they sipped their Guinness and boasted about the latest achievements of their children.

"Sixteen tons and what do you get? Another day older and deeper in debt," he murmured softly to himself, not exactly singing.
He turned his head a bit as he heard her laughing. 
Esther Onyango.
She was very pretty with her long curly hair tied neatly in a knot at the back of her head, a precise part at the front showing her brown skull in a small neat line. Her lips were shiny with lip gloss, and her slightly slanted eyes outlined with black eyeliner. She looked very carefully put together with her shiny blue nails peeping from her open-toed heels, her white pleather skirt - so not suitable for this weather - not too short, and just clingy enough to let you know she was shapely without being too ratchet about it.
She kept darting glances at him, tiny smiles and secret looks like they were in on a joke together. They weren't. 
He wasn't ready for this.
He'd thought he still had a few years - to 'sow his wild oats' - before his father declared that it was time to settle down and pass on the family name to a new generation. 
Then Fidel Onyango and his wife and daughter came to town. 
Fidel and Ben's dad were old school pals from Alliance boys. Fidel had gotten a scholarship to study in England, where he'd met his British Jamaican bride and sooner rather than later; along came Esther and her sister.
And now Mr. Onyango had managed to convince Ben's dad that he and Esther would be a match made in heaven. Hence this little get together.
His mother and father could not force him to do this.
No, nor would they if they could.
What they could do, was look at him with disappointed eyes if he didn't get with the program. Left unsaid would be the albatross he'd been dragging around with him for the last six years, "Your brother would have never done this."
Alex Ojamong had been the perfect big brother, the perfect son, a great friend, a good guy; bright, going places, funny, friendly...Ben looked up to him and wanted to be just like him. His father knew that his legacy was in good hands. Until one random Wednesday night, he and his friends were driving home from Rock Night at the Carnivore when a drunk driver ended all those dreams.
It was a shock to Ben. 
One minute, he had a big brother. The next, he was gone. He was just turned fourteen years old at the time. A difficult age, one made more so by the upheaval his brother's death caused. His father was never the same, and his mother got sick.
Diabetes they said.
Ben felt like it was his duty to keep the family together. To be the perfect son so his parents didn't have to worry about him.He was the consolation prize and he knew it; it was his job to try - and fail - to fit his brother's shoes. 
So he could not tell his father that, pretty as she was, he had no interest in Esther Onyango. What he could do was get up, paste a smile on his face, and go and speak to her.
Feedback is love.
In Search of Paradise available for pre-order here.

Monday, 2 October 2017

The First of Its Name

I'm no good at introducing my books. When anyone asks me what my books are about, I always feel like slapping a kindle into their hands and saying, "Read it and see."
I try to think if anyone ever gave me a treatise on a book before I picked it up and I gotta say, no they didn't. Usually, I just pick up a book, read the blurb, read the first few pages and if they look likely that's it.
Sold.
Or not.

So I'm not going to give you a treatise on In Search of Paradise, the first of book of its genre...how do I know that, you ask? Well, in the process of submitting it for publishing, there is a step where you choose the category your book belongs to right? So I looked for "African, gay", also "African postapocalyptic"...
Guess what?
Those categories don't exist.
The closest I got was African American gay romance.
Why do you think that is? Well, of course, it's mostly the denial that gay Africans exist, I know that for a fact. Even my family, which is the most chill in existence has given me the massive side-eye over this project.
My sister put it this way, "Annemarie is writing gay porn now." huge sigh. What are we going to do with her?
Of course at this point eliciting that reaction is a way of life for me so...

Well, gay Africans do exist, gay Kenyans are out here trying to hustle just like the rest of us, and that's where the national gay and lesbian human rights commission comes in. I'll let them say it in their own words:

Founded by six young legal advocates, The National Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission (NGLHRC) announced its foundation at its inaugural Gay and Lesbian Awards in December 2012. Held in Nairobi’s City Hall, the Awards affirmed the Kenyanness of the LGBTIQ community while demanding for their inclusion in public and social organizing spaces. Since then, NGLHRC has been encouraging diversity and agitating for public dialogue on sex, sexuality, gender, and nonconformity.
Since 2013, we have been the go-to organization for LGBTIQ legal aid, including security response. We provide a greatly needed national legal aid response mechanism to help prevent and respond to discrimination on account of real or presumed sexual orientation or gender identity. We also engage in civic and public education on LGBTIQ identity, needs, and rights as we push for the full inclusion of LGBTIQ individuals and communities in Kenyan society. Through unique partnerships, targeted trainings and a responsive staff, NGLHRC’s services and resources are available to LGBTIQ individuals wherever they may be; in every city, town, rural area, and county in Kenya.

When I began to write this book, I didn't have any lofty ambitions in mind. It was a story, it came to me, it wanted to be written. LGBTQIA is not really my space - except in the laziest of terms, where I could probably be described as an ally, maybe. But I thought that since I have appropriated their culture for my book, it's only fair that they reap some of the benefits. That's why I decided to give all preorder proceeds to the NGLHRC to help in my own very small teeny tiny way to make it easier to be gay in Africa. That way, it won't take the goddamned apocalypse for people to come out of the closet.
Damn, is that a spoiler?
I think that's a spoiler.
Oh well.
 Speaking of the apocalypse, I wake up every day and the events I'm describing as fiction in my book seem about to happen in real time. You guys, I'm not ready to live in the Walking Dead. Can we all chill? Mother nature included.
What the fuck is happening though you guys?
Anyways, here is an excerpt from In Search of Paradise, read it, enjoy, go preorder the book, it's available from tomorrow.
Kisses.

IN SEARCH OF PARADISE: AN EXCERPT



Friday, 22 September 2017

It Takes a Village

Doesn't it though?
This morning I was, er, you know, performing my morning ablutions when I got this text from one of my oldest friends. He sent me a video of this single mom, who was also a student and she was having child care problems one day. So she let her professor know that she would not be making it to class and he was like "Oh no chile, bring that baby with you, it's fine."
So she brought her baby to class and the lecturer, who was an immigrant to the United States from Zambia, was photo'd carrying the baby as he lectured the class.
So naturally, she was feeling very grateful for him and his generosity. And I watched the video and my heart melted because I remember being a student with a baby and this whole village, including the guy who sent me the video, just helping me out. Of course, I did not find it such an unusual thing because, with all our faults, Africans just do have the warmest hearts on earth. They do. We do. But it was a great way to start the day with gratitude in my heart for all the people I may take for granted who make up my village.

Speaking of...if raising a child takes a village well, so does surviving the apocalypse. Imagine if you will, meteors falling from the skies as nations fight over inanities. Imagine Kim Jong Un in a battle to the death with Donald Trump to find out who can be the most childish. Nuclear proliferation accelerating in Iran and China because the threat of World War III is becoming more real. Hurricane Harvey, Irma, Maria wrecking havoc, earthquakes, tropical storms, tsunamis.
It's not one disaster, it's many all at the same time. And the biggest of them all, Vordania Prime bringing Armageddon.
BOOOM.

Armageddon playlist applies:
-Its the end of the world as you know it.
- If today was your last day
- I don't wanna miss a thing
- In the End
But not too many songs because the electricity is always the first thing to go right?
I've always wanted to write a post-apocalyptic book, and now I have. Or rather I am. So there are three main characters - our village - Ben Ojamoong, Anders Mikaelsson, and Zawadi Akasha. Anders and Zawadi are half siblings (same mom, different dads) from the coast and Ben is Anders' boyfriend. They have stuck together through it all and now, when the world has been laid waste, they find themselves on the road. Heading anywhere they've heard that there are still people.
Now right now, in this world, Egypt might be struggling a bit with the Muslim Brotherhood and all, but in an apocalypse, the fact that they are already used to living in dystopia might vote Egypt and Syria 'most likely to survive.'
Beirut Apr 2016
In this mythical future, Egypt has already set up something organized so our three refugees are trying to get there. Find somewhere they can call home.
It's all very straightforward, right? That's unless you count the plot twists, the kidnappings, extortion, murder, Egyptian gods...just...stuff.
If I tell you why would you read the book?
Oh and there's also man-kissing and man-sexing. Explicit lyrics do apply.
Did I mention all proceeds from pre-order sales go to this charity right here? Well, they do. You can also donate directly to the charity under our hashtag #booklaunchforcharity.