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.
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.
I believe every writer is unique. So stick to your niche, and make the best out of your skill.
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.
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.
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.
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.