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" Bloody Blogs "

Each story has its own destiny and sometimes . . .

“As your marketing team we would like you to write a weekly blog.”
 
Bloody blogs.
 
If I have to do this, then let me make it  the best possible.

My writing isn’t just story-telling. It captures a philosophy of how I live and the values that are important to me.

I love to entertain, build a ‘prejudiced ‘ view of a person or incident at the beginning of each story and come to an opposite conclusion

Each day I walk  along a tight rope separating my past from my present. I’ll see a face and tell myself it’s my aunt come to greet me, then realize that aunt died a decade ago and the face I see today was really the face of my aunt all those years ago. How does that help me to steer through my life today?  And pass on values that are priceless to me yet seem archaic to my two sons in their early twenties?

My stories and blogs crystallize what those values and beliefs are. Each story has its own destiny and sometimes it shows me how prejudiced I am when I take those prejudices and treat them as values or morals to hand down to my boys.

A visit to my birthplace in Africa

I last visited my birthplace in Africa six years ago and devoted a chapter ‘ Paradise Unravelled’ to my homecoming.

The story was preplanned in my head. It was to be one of loss of all the people I knew in the community and buildings and shops and tree-lined avenues all destroyed until, in this mess, I found the building my nanima had lived in. There, I found cousins who knew of me but whom I didn’t.

‘Paradise Unravelled’ was to end in a happy reunion. But the ending became totally different. It was in accepting that end that I began to realise I could never find that past. That it lived only in my mind.

It convinced me to write the stories down to pass on to my boys to give them an understanding ofmy values and how I came by them.

To me words are mystical. Each carries its own weight and vibration.

How many books of others have I read ?

Thousands.

Of all those books, one ending stands out. It’s from ‘The English Patient’ by Michael Ondaatje.

It’s a love story of a Canadian nurse and a Sikh army sapper in the Italian Campaign in World War II. But it was the ending that has haunted me since reading it.

The Sikh goes back to India becoming, I believe, a doctor. The nurse returns to Canada. At the end, she brushes against a glass which falls to the floor. At that very instant, the Sikh is sharing a meal with his family. His toddler daughter drops her fork . As it falls, her father catches it before it hits the floor.

I hope that one impression or a sentence from my writing remains to haunt you for the rest of your life.

For then, my job will be done.

Latest Post

How Do You Find Inspiration?

Going to the mailroom in my building, pinned to the notice board, I saw a toque. It was beige. Along its edges was written ‘Baguio City’ in bold dark letters.

Twenty years I had been living in this building. During the winter I had observed the occasional glove which, when found by the caretaker, was pinned to the board. I waited a week. The toque was still there. I had never seen one from the Philippines, let alone Baguio. The Philippines baked in heat and humidity all year round. What need was there for a toque?

How Do You Find Inspiration?

Going to the mailroom in my building, pinned to the notice board, I saw a toque. It was beige. Along its edges was written ‘Baguio City’ in bold dark letters.

Twenty years I had been living in this building. During the winter I had observed the occasional glove which, when found by the caretaker, was pinned to the board. I waited a week. The toque was still there. I had never seen one from the Philippines, let alone Baguio. The Philippines baked in heat and humidity all year round. What need was there for a toque?

Thank You Lowestoft Chronicle

We received news that Lowestoft Chronicle, based in Massachusetts, who’s writers also contribute to The New Yorker, had accepted ‘Heart of New York‘ as a short story to be published in their next quarterly issue in the Spring.

This is a significant milestone. Lowestoft is regarded as a prestigious publication, being in the business for decades. To have it endorsing our first chapter bodes well for the rest of the second book, ‘New York State of Mind’.

The issue was published on June 1, 2019, and the story can be read here.

Emil Rem

Emil Rem

Connecting to Eternal Truths Through Storytelling

I was born in 1955 in Tanzania to East Indian, Muslim parents. My mother, who possessed no education but held impossible dreams, divorced my father when I was five, and was immediately ostracized by her community. She moved to England and took me with her.

 

Journal

Latest

How Do You Find Inspiration?

Going to the mailroom in my building, pinned to the notice board, I saw a toque. It was beige. Along its edges was written 'Baguio City' in bold dark letters.

Twenty years I had been living in this building. During the winter I had observed the occasional glove which, when found by the caretaker, was pinned to the board. I waited a week. The toque was still there. I had never seen one from the Philippines, let alone Baguio. The Philippines baked in heat and humidity all year round. What need was there for a toque?