Ever since I grabbed my first action-packed novel back when I was in primary school, I have always wanted to grab someone’s else’s attention by writing something of my own. So, I thought why not try it sometimes? What have I got to lose though? I sat down back at the beginning of 2016, with a pen and a squared exercise book that I stole from my sister’s school bag and just started writing. For your information, my sister noticed that her book was actually missing but she didn’t care.
My writing process has been the normal thing as it happens with each and every new writer. Some days, I would crank more than 10 pages of fiction but then another day I would delay the writing until I would feel totally uninspired to write anything. That is why it took so damn long to write this novel that I will be introducing to you real soon.
Then the night of 31st December last year (2016) I finally managed to finish the first draft.
I thought “Yey! I am the most accomplished writer the whole world has ever seen!”
You should have seen me the way I walked around my native village in Nyahururu, central province. Hands hanging on my sides, my chest puffed out thinking that I had the biggest manly beasts, my neck straightened. You could have thought that I had just replaced the president of the united states. But boy, was I wrong?
Wait until I realized the work was just beginning. I had to transfer the handwritten piece of text into my laptop. And by then my rate of typing was pathetic.
Like really pathetic. Really slow I mean.
Okay, I got through this. Yet again, I thought that the work was done. But then there was the editing to be done.
Like, what the f**ck?
What did I actually get myself into?
I sat there every evening after my chemical engineering classes as I wallowed through every word of the 50,000+ words that I had written. Every time cringing at every word that I had written myself. I was being like:
What the hell was I thinking putting this here?
Oh, shit I am just really dumb!
Okay, I finally managed to get through this too. And then I am just stuck in the infinite loop of thinking:
What will my readers think about my writing?
Will they think it is nonsense?
Then I watched this entrepreneur guy on the internet. That is YouTube. He kicked my ass. His exact words were:
“You got to get it out there or else you will never know.”
I don’t remember who the guy was or his YouTube channel. Or otherwise, I could have referred you to him for a dose of inspiration.
MEET MY NOVEL, THE DIABETIC SPY
Being a diabetic for 10 yrs. teaches you a lot of things about diabetes. It teaches you how to inject yourself three time a day and not even think twice about it. I know: cringe.
It teaches you that Kenyans still have no any idea on what diabetes is. It lets you get used to the fucked-up comments that people make when they hear you have the great D.
Then you hear another podcaster telling you that you have got to do something about something that bothers you.
So, I came up with a solution.
I felt like Einstein when I did come up with the solution.
I was like: Dude this is it!
Teach people about diabetes through fiction.
THE DIABETIC SPY is a novel that features a diabetic man who quits his college education to join his father’s spying business. His father had died before him, murdered actually by some drug lords that he had been tracking in china.
The novel takes you through the life struggles that this guy goes through while trying to crack his first case which involves the Chinese and the Russian cartel. The thrilling action-packed scenes in the novel will blow off your mind.
I will give you a sneak-peak at what is inside:
Suddenly the Chinese dipped one of his huge hands in his pocket and produced a huge cigar and a wooden matchstick box. He lit his cigar using one of the wooden matchsticks and started puffing on it earnestly, looking up into the ceiling, thinking. He turned to the Chinese who was still standing next to Laymond holding the water bucket.
“Hey, can you lend me your knife please?” He said to the guy.
Without even speaking the guy produced a knife from a leather porch tied to his waist and handed it to Hung Lee.
Hung Lee produced another match stick and started whittling away the empty side of it into a sharp point. Reaching out to one of Laymond’s hands he inserted it between one of his finger nails. He removed his cigar from his lips and touched its glowing end on the other side of the match stick. The match stick busted into flames. As they burned up the match stick Laymond started feeling the heat. His muscles started tensing involuntarily.
The Chinese still holding his hand brought the knife half an inch from Laymond’s eye.
“Don’t move or your eye will turn into an over-ripe tomato in front of this knife. Torture is something that I had hoped to avoid at all costs, but you have left me with no otherwise.”
The flames started touching his skin. His body started reacting to this involuntarily. He thought about death. His father had died and now he was free of pain somewhere in that plane of oblivion. He longed for it.
Hold on tiger. I am not pissing away my novel just like that. You have to part with some little cash to get it though. Don’t worry, I am not asking for thousands. Only $1 Which is equivalent to just 100/=. That is not much to ask off you considering the thrill you will get reading the novel.Hey! We should connect on social media