Can you tell us a little bit about your latest book? When did it come out? Where can we get it?
My latest book is titled My Mother's Cooking Pot. It is a compilation of short plays, short stories, poems, articles and letters written to herald the beauty and diversity of literature. It was published in July on Amazon, and in October on Smashwords.
Is there anything that prompted your latest book? Something that inspired you?
Getting a book that will satisfy one's literary hunger is very rare these days. So I decided to put together my yet-best works in a single book to meet that need. And I believe the book, amidst its
several lessons, will appeal to anyone who desires to enjoy literature.
Great! So, when did you know you wanted to write? Or has it always been a pastime of yours?
I started doing wonders with my pen when I was around age nine, but I got to know writing was in my blood when I entered high school. Then I realized I would probably spend the rest of my life writing.
Do you have any favorite authors?
Yeah, I do! I enjoy the works of Charles Dickens, and Chinua Achebe. The freedom with which they write makes their books my favorites.
Do you write in a specific place? Time of day?
Not really. But I prefer writing on my bed or in gardens. I really do not know why this is, but that is just it. Talking about time, I write mostly in the early hours of the morning. Inspiration
flows to me better then.
Are there any words you'd like to impart to fellow writers? Any advice?
I believe every writer is unique. So
stick to your niche, and make the best out of your skill.
Good advice!
Readers, here is the blurb for My Mother's Cooking Pot.
A beautiful compilation of short stories, short plays, poems, and
letters that will certainly appeal to your literary senses. It is a
completely enjoyable book that has a lot of lessons to teach.
Here is an excerpt.
MY STEPMOTHER
I heard the tiny
laughter in the silence of the dizzy night. He was cuddling her again like he
always did. I got up from the bed I had inherited from my bony grandpa who
preferred using oil and salt to eat yam to using vegetable soup.
I really cannot lay my
hand on the reason I got up from bed that night. There was no reason for me to
be inquisitive. I had seen them both in their shameful act several times with
my two large eyes my school teacher usually compared to that of a cat. I have
always wanted to punch her in the face for such statements, but my courage always has a way of creeping away like a wise tortoise from a ready trap.
I tiptoed to the door
like I always did whenever I wanted to steal meat from the pot. This time
around, I was not about to steal. I was about to do something I had no reason
for. I removed the old key from the keyhole and through the keyhole, I beheld
her naked body being fondled by the hands he used daily in changing car tire
and engine oil.
I spat on the floor in
utter disgust. She was moaning in pleasure and I did not need any preacher to
tell me she was enjoying the insane and impure pleasure. Why they always left
the light on is what I am yet to understand. Maybe they did that just to
perfect their silly act.
After feeding my angry
eyes with several stomach-turning gymnastics of theirs, I decided to tiptoe
back to my bed and savour my red-glowing anger. The next thing that happened to
me was so unexpected. I missed my steps and fell terribly like a volcano by
mother Earth.
My fall was so loud
that it disrupted their act of carnal pleasure. She came rushing in like a
tornado, and whether she had her clothes on or not, I could not see because I
was writhing in pain like a street boy punched by a heavyweight boxer. She was
not concerned about my fall, but the possibility that I had seen her in the
act. I prayed before I tried sleeping, so I had no injuries. She helped me back
on my feet. She had flipped the switch on, and light filled the room.
“Did you see anything?”
“Of course I did!” I
replied with an anger that could melt a mountain burning deep within my soul.
“What did you see?” she
asked with her eyes popping out like one of my favourite cartoon characters.
“Has he left?” I
intentionally asked.
“Yes.”
I could see guilt
written all over her face, and I could see anger around her eyeballs. She
walked away quietly from the room and slammed the noise-making door behind her.
I did not care an ounce! I had expected her to ask if my mouth that runs like
tap water will narrate like a narrator what my eyes saw to my mother’s husband.
But she did not.
I woke up to meet an
amazing breakfast on the only rickety table in my small room. She was sitting
close by, and she greeted me good morning with a lovely smile on her face for
the first time ever. She motioned me to sit and eat. She promised me that I
will get more of such meals everyday if she does not lose her place as my
stepmother.
She promised to always
do my laundry if I do not let my mouth spit her dirty acts to my father who
believes every word I say. She promised me so many things. I agreed, and
pounced on the food like a lion on a prey.
Halfway through the
mountainous meal, she told me she had poisoned the food. I almost coughed out
my intestines, but she kept laughing like a witch. She then promised to throw
my dead body into the cleanest river around before my businessman-father ever
think of coming back.
I fell to the floor
with my hands on my stomach. I cried at the top of my voice, and so I woke up
from my dream. Pangs of hunger raced through my stomach, and I remembered I had
fallen asleep hungry.
Author Bio
I am Sunday
Erhunmwunse Author of Shut Out in Darkness(available in print), How To Build An
Amazing Personality As A Young Adult (available on major ebook stores
worldwide. Visit Smashwords and buy yours).
Author of three books on Amazon. Student
of the University of Benin. I just enjoy writing.
Author Links:
Books:
Perfect one
ReplyDelete