Are you a poetry writer who wants an all-expense covered opportunity and a cash award? Then this opportunity will interest you.

The organizers of the 2024 Alpine Fellowship Annual Symposium are currently accepting submissions. Three lucky writers will be awarded this international prize.

The theme for this year’s submissions is : ‘Language’

Eligibility Guidelines for Alpine Fellowship Poetry Prize

• Open to all nationalities.

• In addition, everyone who enters must be aged 18 or above at the time of entry.

• All entries must be written in English.

• Furthermore, entrants can only enter one of the prizes.

Submission Guidelines for Alpine Fellowship Poetry Prize

• Limited to one entry per person.

• You may submit one poem or a collection of poems as long as ALL the poems in the collection speak to the theme.

• Importantly, entrants must note that there is a maximum of 500 words per entry.

• Travel expenses can be used for travel costs only and are not exchangeable for cash.

• More so, travel expenses can be used for transport only, and can not be used towards accommodation outside of the dates of our symposium.

• Submissions will be judged anonymously, so please ensure that your name does not appear anywhere on your work.

• Also, due to the volume of applications the judges decisions are final and no correspondence will be entered into following the results.

• All entries must be sent via the Alpine Fellowship Submittable.

Prizes

The winner of the Poetry Prize will receive a cash prize. Also, the runners up will receive travel expense support that must be used to attend the 2023 symposium which will be held from 10th-13th August 2024 in Fjällnäs, Sweden

First place: £3,000 cash grant

Second place: £1,000 travel expense

Third place: £1,000 travel expense

Deadline

Submissions close on the 1st of March 2024 at 23:59 (UK time)

Good luck.

The post Alpine Fellowship Poetry Prize is Open/ How to Apply (Prize: £5,000) appeared first on Creative Writing News.

A writing workshop is a great opportunity for budding writers to have their works subjected to peer review and critique. Readers and writers workshops come in various models, but the goals are to teach writers to be better writers

Every year, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie organizes the Purple Hibiscus Creative writing workshop. Various writers are selected to hone their crafts. Teaching the writing workshops are professional writers.

In 2018, Simbiat Haroun attended the writer’s workshop. In her essay, she shares everything she learned. From the writing workshop model to the writing tips. Simbiat bares it all. Ready to learn how to write like a noble laureate? Keep reading.

Writing Workshop With Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: Learning To Write Like A Nobel Laureate At The Purple Hibiscus Creative Writing Workshop.

The thing to know about acceptance letters is that they usually come when you least expect them. Most people are never ready for an official endorsement of their work.

Even if you send in your best, the moment the positive feedback comes is usually so euphoric that every thought flies out of your head no matter how prepared you thought you were to receive it.

You forget the certainty that made you send out the application in the first place. And then, you forget the fact that by getting this chance, you have robbed hundreds, maybe thousands of people of the opportunity.

You even forget people. And you forget where you are. Chances are that you even forget your body. Then, you condense as you become a mixture of air and euphoria.

This feeling enveloped me at five a.m. on the seventh of November, when I woke up to check my email. You must know that the day before, I had been looking up writing workshop attendees.

What had I been researching? Everything. I had been checking the number of people who are being accepted to Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s creative writing workshop each year.

Also, I’d been sending pathetic messages to my younger brother, wailing to him about how I would never get into this highly selective writers’ workshop.

So in the morning, I woke up to go to work, and I checked my email because Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie would be sending out emails to the luck workshop participants that day.

When I saw the subject of the mail, my palms became clammy and my breath started to come out in puffs. Fear crawled through my body unknowing to me – the sneaky bastard – and sat firmly in my blood, planted itself on my chest.

With this choking feeling acting as a witness to one of the most euphoric moments of 2018 for me (it comfortably sits in the top five), I opened the mail.

“Dear Simbiat, thank you for applying to the Purple Hibiscus Trust Creative Writing Workshop,”

it began. No clue of what was coming. After,

“I am pleased to let you know you’ve been accepted…”

and finally,

“I enjoyed reading your entry…”

My Reaction To The Acceptance Letter.

My body became one again and I flew up, down, up, down and the floor was shaking beneath my feet and I was vibrating with excitement, and my youngest brother, who had slept in my room that night, was jarred awake by my silent screaming. (I was dimly conscious of how early it was and I did try to keep it down). Unimpressed, he begged me to tone it down, and then he went back to sleep.

I continued to jump up and down, stopping at some points to try to let out excited tears – which never came out –and trying and failing to contain my excitement. That was probably my best day at work after I managed to calm down long enough to get ready.

After I told my brother, who at first couldn’t believe it and then I told my parents but they didn’t understand the gravity of what had happened. They correctly read the waves of excitement pouring from my body and extended their most hearty congratulations.

For the duration of the days it took between receiving that letter and going off to the writing workshop, I was buzzing with excitement, making plans, making, and canceling arrangements.

The Arrival To The Writing Workshop Venue.

Finally, the day came for me to leave home. I arrived at the hotel a day before the writing workshop was due to start (as did most of us, really).

I lived in Lagos, where the writer’s workshop was billed to take place, so I could have to the workshop early on the start date. But I was too excited to wait for a whole day.

The day I got there, it was if a rush of creative juices got emptied on my head. This is proof that the writing workshop still works. The conducive environment and the idea of collaborative learning simply make the writer more productive.

I sat at a very comfortable writing desk, with its bright lights, and its soft perfect chair and its distracting mirror. And I wrote two stories. Afterward, I ate and slept.

How To Write Like A Pro. Everything I Learned From Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie On Day 1 Of The Writing Workshop.

The next day, the writing workshop kicked off. To prepare, I did nothing. It was all in the mind, I reasoned, and short of literally cracking my skull and parting it open, there was nothing I could do to fully get ready.

I had attended the writing workshop only to learn how to write like a nobel laureate. Some other participants hoped to learn about teaching writing workshops. I realized later on that the later was also a useful skill.

Don’t think about the audience when writing, think about the story.

— Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.

At the top of my mind was my decision to do my best. And hopefully not remain star-struck throughout the creative writing workshop!

When I got downstairs, I was greeted by a congregation of eager students clustered in pockets of small groups. There, I met H. I joined her small cluster, which consisted of herself and G.

I remember that day and all the others that followed very vividly. We sat together and spoke about the things that connected us: our nervousness at meeting Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. We spoke about our uncertainty about being at the writing workshop, random things, mundane things.

Soon, it was time to eat and we proceeded to the dining room; I still miss the food. After, I quickly went to the room where we were to have classes.

Chairs were arranged in a U formation, with sweets, a bottle of water and a jotter and a biro. I walked in and I sat. Less than five minutes later, I walked out again and went back to the dining room.

The room was too cold and I had been the only one there, everybody else was too busy learning the patterns of other people’s minds.

Many minutes later, we were ushered back into the room, into the freezing cold. It felt like stepping through the doorway from the summer into the winter. Somehow, in the minutes I had been away, it had become even colder. We sat there in the cold, waiting.

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie Comes To Teach The Creative Writers’ Workshop

When Chimamanda finally walked into the room, I can only speak for myself and say that it felt like the sun had just risen. She had a large smile on her face, and she was gorgeous and she looked genuinely happy to meet us.

I didn’t notice when but eventually, I felt the strain in my cheeks that told me I was smiling widely. She came in and sat beside me, to my immediate right.

When editing, look at the first and last few sentences.

— Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.

Here was a woman whose books I had read back to back and who I had loved for so many years and she was sitting so close that if I stretched my hand, I would have been able to touch her. She smiled at us many times and then she introduced herself to raucous, disbelieving laughter.

“We already know you!” Many of us wanted to shout. “We know everything there is to know about you.”

She told us bits about herself, declared the room a safe space, and invited us to share pieces of ourselves. It was like we were transported out of that freezing space by the sea to the safest place everyone could be. (For me, it was an island away from civilization).

It was like we had been transported and told that we could be our deepest truest selves. Some of us poked the change with sticks, and others embraced it wholeheartedly.

What is important is that one after the other, we shared pieces of ourselves. And in that room, we started to form bonds that I believe will endure. And this is what I found most fascinating about the writing workshop model Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie built.

Why Our Writing Samples Stood Out From The Other Applicants.

After our brief introduction, we began the business of the day. Chimamanda told us why she had selected the stories she did.

Use more detail so that your story is more believable.

— Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.

She didn’t pick perfect stories, she said. She added that It had been particularly hard that year, to select the stories she did. And then she began to critique our entry stories one after the other.

During the course of this session, which stretched into the next day, she shared a few gems. I’ll share a few of the writing tips Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie shared while she was teaching the writing workshop:

• Don’t think about the audience when writing, think about the story.
• When writing out of your box (gender, nationality, etc.), it is important to come to it with humility.
• When editing, look at the first and last few sentences.
• Use more detail so that your story is more believable.
• Allow your characters some vulnerability.
• Be specific but don’t overdo it in order to write a more believable story.

Finally, she got to my story. And she told me something I will remember forever. Sorry, I will not share it with you.

The First Three Days Of The Writers’ Workshop and The Writing Prompts We Explored.

We spent the first three days of the writing workshop with Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.

We wrote more stories. They can serve as a writing workshop idea or a writing prompt for you.

• One assignment was to write a story using only dialogue,
• Another prompt involved a story about what we like and dislike about ourselves. These exercises opened us up and forced us to confront parts of ourselves we had never dared to open up.

For many of us (myself included), we had never been able to write anything so personal. For many of us, it was like opening a can of worms.

The stories were so hard to write but eventually, the worms grew into butterflies. We found that we were better for the sleepless nights we had to endure to complete our writing assignments.

Writing Tip: There should always be layers in everything you write.

— Lola Shoneyin.

So yes, the first three days of the writing workshop were daunting but absolutely worth it. Above all, they were fun as we had started to develop stronger relationships over fried fish, and chicken curry sauce, and salads, with sugary drinks to wash it all down.

The Purple Hibiscus Creative Writing Workshop With Lola Shoneyin, Author and Founder Of The Ake Festival.

The fourth day of the writing workshop saw us paired with Lola Shoneyin and brought what would become a fun, poetry session.

Writing Tip: Use symbolism to show how people are different.

— Lola Shoneyin.

I definitely did not know before I met her that she had published at least three poetry collections. And that she’d published these before releasing her critically-acclaimed novel, The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives.

During the writing workshop, Lola taught us about brevity and subtlety in writing. The workshop participants learned how to use writing as therapy.. And we learned about foreshadowing.

Some golden creative writing tips she shared with us are as follows:

• There should always be layers in everything you write. This will help you build a great narrative arc.
• To be able to tell overly personal experiences, learn to detach yourself.
• The more you translate someone’s work into your language, the better your description will be.
• Use symbolism to show how people are different.

She also discussed how to write from many perspectives when writing a novel. To make it all easier, here are some things to note when writing different voices:

• Draw very clear lines.
• Get to know each character intimately.
• Write down a character bible.

To practice, we took a poem that Lola chose. After she’d separated us into groups of four, we translated it into pidgin.

This exercise was an illustration of how description can be more vivid when translated into your language. It showed how translation exercises can aid the writer in painting a clearer picture in a story.

The Purple Hibiscus Creative Writing Workshop With Tash Aw.

After Lola was Tash Aw with whom we learned to write about people who are close to us.

Write about things you’re more emotionally drawn to.

— Tash Aw

Tash’s writing workshop model was slightly different from Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche’s model.

Tash Aw had us pair up. And for his assignment, we had to discuss parts of ourselves with our partners. From what each writer had learned of the other person, everyone had to write a story about their partner. It had to be something they could relate to.

Colour narratives of people with what you know about them.

— Tash Aw

On the second day, my roommate, D, finally arrived. And it was with her that I completed this assignment. This was particularly hard for me, and I ended up doing a fairly decent job only on my second try.

Are you interested in trying this writing workshop idea? Here are some writing tips which I noted from Tash’s class:

• Write about things you’re more emotionally drawn to.
• Be able to say the things that they said, didn’t say, and could have said.
• Stories can be used to antagonize the subject.
• Writing is about going into their emotional space, about invading their personal lives.
• Colour narratives of people with what you know about them.

Learning How To Write From Eghosa Imaseun.

Next, the workshop participants enjoyed a visit from Eghosa Imaseun. Before he showed up, he sent us stories to read. Short stories and articles that taught us a lot about the proper way to submit stories and how to maintain voices while we write.

We also got an assignment to re-write a chapter of a popular book. The winner took home the complete set of Chimamanda Adichie’s books (I’m still jealous, T).

Below are some things to note from Eghosa’s writing class. His tips focused on things to consider when submitting a book to a publisher:

Write a striking cover letter.

Write a letter of approach requesting publication. This should have three parts: why you write, what you write, who you are.

Include A Short Synopsis.

Summarize what you’ve written in two sentences. Include why you’re the best person to tell the story.

Include Samples Of Your Work.

Submit three chapters or 50 pages or 10,000 words of your novel, whichever is longer.

Don’t Hesitate To Send A Follow-Up Email To The Publisher.

Follow up on your submission after two months.

Follow The Publisher’s Submission Guidelines.

The safest thing is to go to their submissions page and check if they have a preferred format; it’s usually best to send a traditional format.

Eghosa was hard surfaces with soft tips. He asked questions and actually expected an answer. Again, he was self-critical and magnanimous. And he said things that shocked you but at the same time did not, because you knew he meant them.

You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.

He shared some tips about points of view with us and their specific differences. An important thing I learned during Eghosa’s session is that the best way to transport yourself to the time where you’re writing is to use music and things that are relevant to that place.

What Dave Eggers Taught At The Writing Workshop About Points Of View And Editing.

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Dave Eggers was last to see us but in no way the least. With Dave, we discussed how to humanize a character, for writing about people we don’t particularly like.

Some of the ways a writer can humanize a character are:

• Show vulnerability in the character.
• Portray the character with someone or something they love.
• Present their weakness in relatable ways.
• Reveal their doubts, their internal struggles.
• Show what they are like when they fail.
• Reveal their inner justification for evil. In most cases, people who do evil think they have good reasons for their actions.
• Take readers into the character’s head.

Dave took us through an invaluable editing class that is worth more than I can ever say. Gold, maybe? With Dave, we discussed experimental stories, stories that are told not from the typical points of view but strange ones.

Workshop participants had to think about possibly writing from the point of view of a housefly, of a dead woman, using different structures, and we did, with many of us producing stellar work.

For our assignment, Dave told us to pick a newspaper story and write a fictional story out of it. It was particularly boring as none of the stories seemingly had good material. We spun gold out of the ordinary thread after which we took the practical road to ‘editing’.

How To Edit Your Story: Tips From The Writing Workshop With Dave Eggers.

• Never use so/then.
• Do not put a semicolon in dialogue.
• Analyze your story sentence by sentence and remove words that don’t do anything for the sentence.
• Don’t overdo the dialogue tags.
• Show more than you tell.

We were encouraged to share our work and until today, a quote rings in my head every time I think of holding back: “You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.”

The quote may be overused but it is no less important.

Other Interesting Extracurricular Activities We Participated In During The Writing Workshop.

It is crucial to note that we were not just props sitting in class, and trudging back to our rooms at the end of the day.

In the middle of the unending work, we found time to watch movies together in J’s room, have a dance party, go on long walks as a group during which I had a soul-moving talk with T.

We took our time to grow as writers as well as individuals as well as Purple Hibiscus Creative Writing Trust Students.

Also, we spent nights staring at the sky, sitting in the bar downstairs discussing ourselves, peeling open wounds that had been long forgotten, and left buried under a bandage.

We talked and laughed and selfied among ourselves. Each day of those ten days is well documented.

The Final Days Of The Writers Workshop.

All too soon, it was the tenth day. We would spend the day getting ready, making ourselves up and stuffing beautiful outfits, shoes, and gorgeous makeup into the gaping holes our oncoming departure would leave within us.

At the oriental hotel, I floated through the day. It was finally the day we would have our long-awaited selfies with Chimamanda who had to travel and couldn’t make it on our previously scheduled date.

One by one, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, with our certificates in hand, called our names. And one after the other we climbed onto the stage, to hear her say the things about us that she had liked best, things we had thought she would have forgotten.

Not Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie; She had a sharp memory and remembered the most important things about each one of us, gave us words we each held to our chests, and as we went back to our hotel, one sentence played over in my mind which she had said at a point during the writing workshop, “I can’t wait to read your books.”

Author’s Bio:

Simbiat Haroun lives in her head and when she is not writing, she is silently watching, thinking about what next she will turn into a story. She is a graduate of Chimamanda Adichie’s Purple Hibiscus Creative Writing Trust Workshop.

We’ll be publishing more feature stories from other writers. Keep visiting CWN. Or better still, subscribe for our newsletter and you’ll get updates right in your inbox.

Want to write for us? Great! Read the submissions guidelines on our Write for Us Page

The post Writing Workshop With Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: Learning To Write Like A Nobel Laureate At The Purple Hibiscus Creative Writing Workshop. appeared first on Creative Writing News.

by Bura-Bari Nwilo

In December 2019, I stood over Oly in my apartment in Nsukka and drew her attention to posts of Facebook friends who had screenshot acceptance letters signed by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie for the year’s creative writing workshop. And in my eyes, she could see mild fury hinged on disappointment. I deafened her with tales of my yearly rejections and why I felt I had a right to be disappointed with all things Nigerian.

Then by whatever stroke of fate it was, I checked my email and saw my own letter. Like a letter I had once received explaining how I was among a shortlist of 50 amazing writers and the apology for what could not become my invitation letter, I read those years of rejection and apology into what was an acceptance letter for 2019. When I read through to the second paragraph, I felt an inch taller and almost swiftly, I was massively subdued, like I stood on a tower of resentment for all that had been my misfortune and it turned out it was a day of glory.

When I read through to the second paragraph, I felt an inch taller and almost swiftly, I was massively subdued, like I stood on a tower of resentment for all that had been my misfortune and it turned out it was a day of glory.

Oly shared kind words with me and I went back to the email to see if I had not been too optimistic to have read into a poor letter an acceptance that was only in my imaginations. And I was not dreaming. I was truly invited to the now renamed Purple Hibiscus Creative Writing Workshop after more than five rejections.

At the workshop, I shared experiences of my years of application and some of the wild thoughts I had nurtured. Once, I had thought that my serial rejection, after many of my friends were invited, was because I was not Igbo and I thought I could change my name to allow me entrance. Don’t die yet. And for the year I received a consolidation email signed by Ms. Adichie, I could not mix anger with such obviously patronizing letter. Goodwill messages from Facebook friends, of how I was such an interesting writer, added in me some courage to keep writing. And looking back at such thoughts, I am grateful it ended up between Arinze and me.

And for the big question in class, I asked Ms. Adichie what interested her in my entry that did not meet her many years ago, especially since it was just a regular story, something I had not even taken seriously, against the many I had written with all hopes and concern. And there, I concluded that maybe what makes the big mark comes in the funniest wrap. I had written a story about a serial killer who lured her victims, especially taxi drivers. The killer writes about the incidents on her blog. The few paragraphs I sent were the reason I was invited.

And there, I concluded that maybe what makes the big mark comes in the funniest wrap.

I come from a place of ‘serious’ literature. And I have tried creating most of that seriousness. I have given elbowroom to experimentation and maybe it is why I am yet to decide on writing a novel. And after listening to other participants share their acceptance tales; I knew that I was not alone. We were a universe of people motivated by Chimamanda and would do as much as applying for several years just to hear her up-close, watch her read and share thoughts on story writing and being a writer while addressing us by our names and whatever it was that made us stand out.

The 2019 workshop had it a bit unfortunate. The classes were cut to five days instead of ten days and a lot of things had to be stuffed into a really tiny car. Chimamanda, Lola Shoneyin, Eghosa Imasuen, and Novuyo Tsuma Rosa gave us thrilling experiences with backbreaking tasks: reading multiple stories into late night and class writing tasks that would see you read aloud your writings and listen to others and give constructive feedback. We made a coolly glossy family in a few days than would have been imagined. And maybe the shared rooms enabled bonding, but the 2019 workshop was tense, practical, overwhelming, indulging, compelling and it ended on such evenings where writers knew tears like they knew words and sentences. And those whose tears did not make the warm walk through cheeks, it formed a bubble in their hearts and stayed there as a priceless memory.

Her brilliance lies more in her ability to share quite controversial yet informed thoughts without breaking anyone’s back.

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie is brilliant and adorable in giving kind words. We share a birth date with a ten-year age difference and that’s my consolidation for being a lazy writer. Her brilliance lies more in her ability to share quite controversial yet informed thoughts without breaking anyone’s back. Her playfulness and humane jibes and photo sessions informed me that it takes more than a fine head and great skill to be a superstar. A sprinkle of warmth, friendliness and sometimes vanity could be other awesome additions.

With the workshop, Chimamanda builds confidence, encourages collaboration, and invents homes for broken yet agile storytellers whose shortcomings are not only placed outside the spotlight, but their strength and wellness are given so much cheers and support to germinate.

Bura-Bari Nwilo is the author of The Colour of a Thing Believed, a book of short stories.

The post Looking Back Through a Misty Film: Recollection from the 2019 Purple Hibiscus Creative Writing Workshop appeared first on Creative Writing News.

A journal that seeks to “inform, educate, entertain and inspire the world through creative works of literature”, Kreative Diadem is a literary magazine concerned with providing a platform for the newest voices in creative writing, especially young writers.

This year, as with two previous years, they called for submissions for their annual creative writing contest. On the 16th of December, 2019, they released the shortlist of 6 writers for the poetry category—judged by Kechi Nomu—and 6 writers for the flash fiction category. On the 21st of December, the winners were announced.

Here are the winners:

Poetry

• Anthony Okpunor for “Ode to Our Bodies on Fire” (Winner)
• Ernest Ogunyemi for “Grief Will Remake” (1st runner-up)
• Lade Folabi for “Falling Waters” (2nd runner-up)

Fiction:

• Nneoma Mbalewe for “Ayomide” (Winner)
• Tunji Akande for “Born Again” (1st runner-up)
• Ebeigbe Brian for “The Fallen Angel” (2nd runner-up)

The winning entries were selected from 92 poems and 57 flash fiction pieces.

Congratulations to the winners!

The post The Kreative Diadem Annual Creative Writing Contest Winners appeared first on Creative Writing News.

The post Literary Evening Climaxes 2019 Adichie’s Writing Workshop by Izunna Okafor appeared first on Creative Writing News.

Electric Literature’s The Commuter is now accepting submissions of poetry and graphic narratives for publication. The magazine will pay $100 for accepted works. The deadline for submissions is, Monday, December 23rd, 2019.

Who is Eligible to Submit:

• Anyone writing in English.
• There is no submission fee.

How to Submit:

• Poetry: Submit 3-5 poems in a single document. The submission must not exceed 8 pages in total.
• Graphic Narratives: Either traditional or non-traditional forms of visual storytelling, submit no more than 3 pieces of narrative illustration, comics, or mixed media narrative.
• For comics, each piece should contain no less than 3 panels.
• The total page count of your submission (Graphic Narrative) should not be more than 15 pages.
• Submissions close by Monday, December 23rd, 2019.
• Submit here.

Payment:

• $100 for accepted works.

The post The Commuter is Now Accepting Poems and Graphic Narratives/ How to Submit (Payment: $100). appeared first on Creative Writing News.

A journal that seeks to “inform, educate, entertain and inspire the world through creative works of literature”, Kreative Diadem is a literary magazine concerned with providing a platform for the newest voices in creative writing, especially young writers. Their most recent issue, Rebel, features works by Frances Ogamba, Ugochukwu Damian, Michael Akuchie, Logan February, and some other amazing writers; it was guest-edited by a Brittle Paper Award-winner for Poetry, J.K. Anowe.

One of the ways Kreative Diadem supports budding new creative writers is by awarding annual prizes in Flash Fiction and Poetry to some of the best of young writers who live in Nigeria, who are 21 years old or younger. The prize, which is worth N100, 000 in cash prizes, is awarded to three winners: the first prize, second prize, and third prize. This year, Kechi Nomu judges the Poetry category, while the Flash Fiction category is judged by the editors of the journal.

On the 16th of December, six shortlists were announced in each category. Here are the shortlisted writers and their entries, in no particular order.

Poetry:

• “What is Your Body” by Onyekwelu Chiwenite.
• “Ode to Our Body on Fire” by Anthony Okpunor.
• “Grief Will Remake” by Ernest Ogunyemi.
• “How Last Tuesday Became Black Tuesday” by Praise Osawaru.
• “Remember Us” by Chibueze Obunadike.
• “Falling Waters” by Lade Falobi.

Flash Fiction:

• “How Bodies Become Fluid” by Obasiota Ben Ibe.
• “To Pull a Lion’s Tail” by Boloere Seibidor.
• “Born Again” by Tunji Akande.
• “Ayomide” by Nneoma Mbalewe.
• “The Fallen Angel” by Ebeigbe Brian.
• “Shey Sugar Wey Enter Tea Dey Come Out” by Ife Olatona.

We are happy for every writer on the shortlist, including Ife Olatona who was one of the 85 commended poets in the Foyle Young Poets of the Year Award 2019, and Ernest Ogunyemi who is curating The Young African Poets Anthology.

The winners will be announced by December 21st, 2019.

xx.

The post The Kreative Diadem Annual Creative Writing Contest Shortlist. appeared first on Creative Writing News.

From the author of the controversial church erotica, Holy Sex, and the conspiracy thriller, Satans & Shaitans, comes the new novel Colours of Hatred. We can’t wait to witness Obinna Udenwe’s magical storytelling, with plot twists that intrigue and enthrall us.

About This Wonderful Book:

On her deathbed, Leona seeks forgiveness by confessional. Dastardly as the sin is, it is an act of love, loyalty, disobedience, and perceived fairness. How did she get here, where she, an internationally renowned model, is forced to kill her father-in-law to avenge her mother’s death?

Set against a background of real events, Colours of Hatred, from Parrésia Publishers, is a complex web of plots detailing a woman’s journey from childhood through the fire and anvil of love, loss, betrayal, lust, and duty. Colours of Hatred is being published by Parresia Books.

About the Author:

Obinna Udenwe is the author of the award-winning conspiracy thriller, Satans & Shaitans, and the controversial church erotica, Holy Sex. He is the co-founder of The Village Square Journal – a magazine of contemporary literature, art and politics. His works have been published in journals and magazines across the globe, including: Prairie Schooner, Munyori Literary Journal, The Temz Review, and many more; and have been anthologized in Africa Roar, The Short Story is Dead, Long Live the Short Story Vol 1 & 2 etc. He is the editor of the anthology, Voices from My Clan and a co-editor of all three editions of Ebedi Review – an in-house magazine of the Ebedi Writers Residency. He won the ANA Prize for Prose Fiction 2015 and the Short Story is Dead Prize 2016.

Though Colours of Hatred won’t be available in bookstores until Monday, January 20, 2020, to be one of the first to own this nice novel, you can pre-order it, beginning Wednesday, December 4, 2019.

Pre-ordered copies will be personally signed by the author and will contain the buyers’ personalized messages

Click HERE to Pre-Order Colours of Hatred by Obinna Udenwe.

I’m off to pre-order mine. And you?

The post New Awesome Book Alert: Colours of Hatred by Obinna Udenwe (Now Available For Pre-order). appeared first on Creative Writing News.

In the introduction to “The Collected Stories of Mavis Gallunt”, she wrote:

“There is something I keep wanting to say about reading short stories. I am doing it now, because I may never have another occasion. Stories are not chapters of novels. They should not be read one after another, as if they were meant to follow along. Read one. Shut the book. Read something else. Come back later. Stories can wait.”

All from Adda—two of them shortlisted for the Commonwealth Short Story Prize 2019, the third published on the site last year—the stories I recommend this week deserve to be read just how Mavis Gallant advised: Read one. Shut the tab. Read something else. Come back later.

I hope you enjoy them.

How to Marry an African President by Erica Sugo Anyadike.

Beautiful, funny, heartbreaking—those are the best descriptions for this ‘how-to’ story that was shortlisted for the Commonwealth Short Story Prize in 2019; it was recently published on Adda.

This story is a story and a guide, and here and there, there are instructions, or say, anecdotes—all for the woman who wants to become an African President’s wife. From being a secretary who is forty years younger than the President, she becomes the First Lady. Though before her, there was a wife, and she was also married. Things happened. Her husband was given “a posting faraway” by the President and she never heard from him again; the President’s wife was sick, so she died. Soon, she gets pregnant, and we are taken through a series of things that she, secretary-turned-African-President’s-wife, becomes. She has a wedding that made headlines all over the country; she asks the President, in the subtle way a woman asks a thing, for her own house without asking (“You’ll pout and tell him how hard it is to live with his first wife’s lingering memory haunting the house.”); she goes from one country to another for shopping trips (“Tell him the wife of such a Big Man like him should be better dressed. Aren’t you a reflection of him and his largesse?”)

Erica’s short story, like every ‘how-to’ short story, seems very easy to pull off (Junot Diaz’s “How to Date a Browngirl, Blackgirl, Whitegirl”, Lorrie Moore’s “How to Become a Writer”, Jamaica Kincaid’s “Girl”, and, though this isn’t a short story, Binyavanga Wainana’s satiric “How to Write About Africa”), but it only seems so. One of the reasons why is, in a ‘how-to’ story, there is a ‘you’, there is a series of instructions, or a guide, and most of the times, the writer is writing about a whole group of people, which makes it difficult to pull off because the character must be as dynamic as possible. If not careful, the writer could descend into the obscure and stupid. So, more than anything, this form requires mastery, which is why I haven’t read a book that uses this form all through, except of course, Elnathan John’s “Be(com)ing Nigerian: A Guide”. But, in fact, each chapter of Elnathan’s book reads like a short story.

Thankfully, in How to Marry an African President, Erica shows a level of mastery, especially in how she creates her character—flawed, wanting, human. And she deserves three thumbs up because she is writing about a whole continent, and, if not all the time, most times she is right: “If you want something, someone will be immediately dispatched to go and get it. And all you’ll have to do is immerse yourself in charity work, open a few orphanages, kiss a few babies and accompany the President to state events.”

However, what makes Erica’s story good isn’t just her accurate descriptions of what it means to be the wife of an African President, but her voice, and her use of language. While, as with the Caine Prize-winning “Fanta Blackurrant” and Efua Traore’s Commonwealth Short Story Prize-winning “True Happiness”, there is no bending of language to fit the environment—it wouldn’t have worked, because there is no particular environment—it is clear that the narrator is an African, that the English here is from an African mouth. Here: “Your reception will be a who’s who of powerful people in African politics. Paparazzi will describe your wedding as outrageous and over the top. You have arrived.”  If you are Yoruba, you know that ‘a who’s who’ sounds like a translation of some Yoruba phrase: Eyan jankan jankan—and ‘You have arrived’.

Although some of her descriptions didn’t do it for me (“His skin will be pink and thin, translucent like a lizard.”), she writes very punchy sentences: “He will dispense favours like tokens at an arcade.”; “Jealous journalists will give you a nickname, something alliterative.” (note that ‘jealous journalists’ is alliterative, which is a play that implies that even the journalists desire, in the depth of their insides, this life she now has); “your fear stuck like a lump of mealie-meal in your throat.”

In this story, there is truth, and this truth is coming from a mouth that knows how to tell it well, and if anything matters, that is all that does.

The Bride by Adorah Nworah.

It opens with one of the catchiest short story sentences I’ve come across in my reading life (Nneka Arimah’s “When Enebeli Okwara sent his girl out in the world, he did not know what the world did to daughters”, from “Light”, being on top of that list):

“The man in the back seat of the powder blue Toyota RAV4 is not Dumeje Nwokeocha, the groom.

But you are the bride.”

Immediately, we are launched into a story that promises to be fun. And, coincidentally, we begin to experience what the world does to daughters, as we meet a lady whose name is Somadina, Adina for short. But even her name isn’t always her name, sometimes it is “baby, or Din Din, or the black girl, or the quiet girl, or her, or the chubby one, or bitch, depending on the mouth, or the mood.” The fact that we learn, very early into the story, that her name can change, ‘depending on the mouth, or the mood’ (of some other person, since it takes another person to call the name, which is almost always a man)—that fact is what this story builds upon. That a girl, lady, or woman must understand that whatever they are is not theirs to determine, but that society determines that for them.

However, “Today, your name is the bride, but the man in the powder blue Toyota RAV4 is not the groom.” In one sentence, the writer repeats the first two sentences of the story, probably to remind herself that this story is also about ‘the bride’ and not just about what names the society places on a woman’s head. This groom has a burn mark and scars on his arms, and one of his legs is longer than the other; unlike Dumeje who is supposed to be the groom, the original groom, whose “forehead is not just right. It is spectacularly long, or tall. It is a walking, breathing man with distinct needs and inclinations” (though I don’t get the description of the forehead as “a walking, breathing man…”, and there’s a good deal of descriptions in this story that I feel don’t work).

The thing is, while the new man is not Dumeje, he is also Dumeje. What the short story writer is driving at is, every man is not always what you thought him to be. “There is the man who is not Dumeje. His limbs are thinner and longer in this room. His lips are just as chapped as you remember them, or the man they once belonged to, or the other man”, she writes. Dumeje will always be ‘the other man’. When Adina tells her sister, “‘I don’t know him, Nono’”, she isn’t just talking about recognition; it is also a play on how a woman can never really know a man—they change.

She also makes this point earlier in the story when Dumeje, the Dumeje, asks Adina, “where do you think you’re going dressed like that?”—though the dress she is wearing is the same Herve Leger dress she wore when he met her. His comment then was, “This your dress go kill somebody, oh.”

However, she, Adina, would have that Dumeje instead of this man, but she can’t afford to stop the wedding now. One of the most brilliant dialogues, describing how parents, though they see it, too, mother’s especially—how they just won’t do what’s best for their daughters because of ‘embarrassment’.

“‘So what if the poor man’s skin is a little dull, eh?’ your mother cries, her face a crumpled note. ‘Will you now embarrass me and your father by calling off the festivities? Do you hate us this much?’

‘Ma, you don’t understand.’

‘Oh, you think I don’t see it too,’ she whispers, and her breath falls on your chest. ‘I see it all, Nne. Today, it is the color of his wrists. Tomorrow, it will be the demands he makes of you, each one harder than the next, till you are left with only those parts of you that serve his needs.’”

If there’s anything that makes this story worth the read, it is not how Adorah tries to make a joke every chance she gets in this very serious story, or her descriptions of falling saw dust as snow, or how she reminds us over and over and over and over again that “Today, your name is the bride, but the man in the powder blue Toyota RAV4 is not the groom”—what makes this story important is the theme it has taken up, and how it deals with that theme.

Beautiful by Helon Habila.

Opening with a description on “the two ways to enter Ajegunle”, Beautiful is a gorgeous story about the life of an Ajegunle-raised footballer, Buzuzu—from the time he scored the goal that was so ‘beautiful’ it could only be compared to the scorpion kick by Rene Higuita, through all the stories of the teams he played for, trying to get to a team in Europe to play for the Big League, and it follows him even after, like most Nigerian players, he returned back home to Ajegunle with “the single most important thing that has ever happened to me”.

In this short story, the prose is beautiful, elegant in fact, but there were parts of this story where I was thinking the narrator is a white person, writing for a white audience (“Here you measure distance in bus stops, not in minutes or hours, because a ten-minute bus ride could end up taking over an hour.”), as he spends the first six-hundred-and-thirty-nine words describing Ajegunle and life in Ajegunle—the girls selling gala and pure water, the traffic, the overcrowded bus. While I can relate to these descriptions, I felt some of them dragged reality a little bit (“Our bus is hardly moving in the deafening, chock-a-block traffic that has something almost apocalyptic about it.” Italics mine). But then again, the narrator is a journalist who works for Vanguard newspaper, who decided to become a sports journalist after seeing the ‘beautiful’ goal by Buzuzu—how will a journalist tell a story?

The success of Beautiful is in how it spans almost the lifetime of a character, how it presents a whole community and its people, their dreams, troubles, and the pride that comes with having one of us there. Additionally, there is a way the narrator holds the reins of his own emotions; he holds them in a way that they don’t even seep through the spaces between his fingers—though I would have loved to feel what he is feeling that he doesn’t show.

Thank you for reading. Check out other recommended stories here.

The post Recommended Stories You Can Read Online, Featuring Stories by Erica Sugo Anyadike, Adorah Nworah, and Helon Habila. appeared first on Creative Writing News.

From Parrésia Publishers—the publishers of T. J. Benson’s We Won’t Fade into Darkness, and Onyeka Nwelue’s The Beginning of Everything Colourful—comes this very beautiful book by one of Nigeria’s very notable poets and performers, Iquo Dianaabasi. Like you, we are hungry to hold Ẹ̀fọ́ Rírò and Other Stories in our hands and savor the richness of the stories in its pages.

So What’s This Awesome Book About?

A collection that is set primarily within Nigeria, the stories in Ẹ̀fọ́ Rírò and Other Stories cover varied social themes including spousal abuse, religious dogma, love, bravery, betrayal and vengeance. It speaks of the untamed resilience of the everyday Nigerian who is faced with the vicissitudes of life.

We meet Sixtus the driver whose love of a particular delicacy has him biting off more than he can chew, and we laugh to our heart’s delight. But all is not humorous in this collection. Anything can happen in the city of Lagos: a man disappears after a Champions League semi-final and we are drawn into his wife’s travails; light beams on paedophilia through the keen eyes of a gossip; we take a peek at what love and lust look like on the internet; then we head to Oguta where a ritual to revive a sick husband takes an unexpected turn. Despite the human tendency to betray and disappoint, we encounter stories that show how people tread life on a carpet of love and hope.

What You Should Know About the Author:

Iquo Dianaabasi is a Nigerian storyteller, performance poet and editor. She has performed on many stages and is the author of Symphony of Becoming, a collection of poems, which was shortlisted for the Nigeria Literature Prize, The Wole Soyinka Prize for Literature and Association of Nigerian Authors Poetry Prize. Her writing has been widely anthologized and published in online journals and print. Efo Riro and Other Stories is her first personal collection of stories. Iquo lives in Lagos, where she writes scripts for radio and works as an editor.

Ẹ̀fọ́ Rírò and Other Stories will be available in bookstores by Monday, January 20, 2020.  But, to be one of the first to own this nice collection, you can pre-order it online. Simply click to pre-order Efo Riro by Iquo Dianabasi Pre-orders started since Wednesday, December 4, 2019.

Pre-ordered copies will be personally signed by the author and will contain the buyers’ personalized messages

I’m off to pre-order my copy of Efo Riro. What about you?

The post New Awesome Book Alert: Ẹ̀fọ́ Rírò and Other Stories by Iquo Dianaabasi (Available For Pre-order). appeared first on Creative Writing News.