I want to set the pace for writing directors to emerge from my department

“You've been at that laptop forever, at least, get a break”.

The last thing I appreciate is being distracted out of the world I build with my characters. It is why I sit at either my phone or laptop with earphones plugged into my ears. It is why I wake up when it is barely dawn when most people are still turning in between their sheets to start clicking away at my devices. It is why I get up from the comfort of my bed and head over to the chair, whether I still feel sleepy or not; I have to get into a new world and stay there to build a successful story.

Source
I sighed. He wouldn't understand so I had to engage him.

“I'm sorry, I cannot get a break until I'm done. Dr. Ofonime asked me to get the manuscript to him by Monday…”

“But this isn't even schoolwork!” I saw a vein bulge in his neck, it grew larger per word he spoke. My imagination, playing games with me, made me see it pop. Sending him to the ground, holding his neck, eyes bulging, blood seeping slowly from his mouth.

I rose to hold his massive arms.

“Babe, relax….” It was always like this for us. I am a novelist; the kind who sits in a world within the real world, creating worlds that can only be brought to reality by the real world.

Every time I sit to write, I lose consciousness of time, place, and persons. I begin to draw up my own places, my own people, my own time - this is what he does not understand because he is a dry cleaner; he deals with the real world.

He has to interact with people on a daily basis; get clothes from them, take note of their concerns and instructions, and satisfy their needs and wants.

I understand that he cannot relate to my career, so I try to take it easy, explaining things one day at a time.

“...see, this is schoolwork. But it's not for the now…”

“You're not making sense.”

My irritation was growing subtly at this point. I hated it when I was always cut in between my sentences, but I took deep breaths and kept a smile on my face.

“What I am doing now, I need it for my final year project….”

“Then let that time cater for itself….”

“Can you just let me finish!” I saw his eyes widen in unbelief. I had never yelled at him before. “I'm sorry, just let me explain things to you, okay?”

He was stroking his beards now, a habit he was fond of when his patience was growing thin. I returned my hands to his arms.

“I'm writing a script that I hope to direct in my final year. That's like September this year. I know directors usually pick other people's plays, but I want to do something different. I want to direct my own play” My hands moved down his arms to take his palms. “This means a whole lot to me. My lecturer told me it could not be done except I write a play in the league of Ola Rotimi and Bassey Ubong. That's why I'm working so hard”.

I saw his eyes soften. His hands which had been hanging loosely in mine grew warmer and turned over to take my hands in his.

“I'm sorry babe, I didn't know all of this.”

“I know. That's why I'm explaining things to you in the best way that I can. See, if the script I'm currently writing gets approved, it would be the biggest moment of my career as a Thespian. I would be one of the first playwrights to put their own play on stage!”

I could feel the excitement grow in my belly like a fetus. My palms slipped away from his as I began to pace.

“I am going to set the pace for writing directors to emerge from my department. I know everyone expects me to be a writing major in my final year simply because I write but I am a director too. That is the part no one has figured out yet ....”

I stole a glance at him and there was this expression, like he was trying hard not to smile.

“I just want to do something other than writing but I want to do it within my world; The one I have created. A director's ability to absorb the script gives birth to incredible creativity. That would be easier if I write my own script.”

He took my hands again when I walked up to him

“Then write my love, write better than Ola Rotimi and Bassey Ubong, then what?”

A smile took over my face instantly, exposing my accurate dentition.

“We wait for September.”