Elizabeth Njogu

I'm editing this month. I thought everything would keep going normally. I swear I heard my book snigger at my very mistaken assumptions. 😐 Three days in and I already know July is going to be fabulous. 😧

I was stuck on the wrong day by a time loop sponsored by my boss. He wanted everything to be perfect. But every time something went wrong, we had to start again. I've been sneaking away for piano lessons. It's the only way to make this the right day for me. #fromoneline #tweetale

@Iamemperor00 I love your stories. I usually keep a list of what I've read (just for reference). Coming up with titles that are sufficiently descriptive but not too long (how could they be?) has become my new favourite little game.

“Do you ever get tired of asking the same question?” The immigration officer looked up from the passport. “What question?” ‘“Purpose of your visit?”’ The traveler smiled. “You must say it a hundred times a day.” The officer stamped another passport. “Closer to three hundred.” “And you never get bored?” The officer shrugged. “The question stays the same.” “But?” “The answers don’t.” The traveler laughed. “I never thought about that.” The airport was unusually quiet. A delayed flight had left the line almost empty. The officer slid the passport back. “So…” The traveler smiled. “Purpose of your visit?” The officer nodded. “Humor me.” The traveler thought for a second. “I was going to say business.” “Were?” “But that’s not really why I’m here.” The officer leaned back. “No?” “I’m here because my grandfather asked me to come.” The officer raised an eyebrow. “Family visit?” “Sort of.” “What does ‘sort of’ mean?” The traveler looked down at the passport. “My grandfather left this country fifty years ago.” The officer listened. “He always talked about coming back.” “What stopped him?” “Life.” The officer nodded. “That happens.” The traveler smiled sadly. “He passed away last winter.” “I’m sorry.” “He never made the trip.” Silence settled between them. Then the officer asked, “So you’re making it for him?” The traveler nodded. “He left me a handwritten list.” “A list?” “Places he wanted to see one last time.” The officer smiled. “That’s a good reason to travel.” The traveler laughed. “The funny thing is…” “What?” “Half the places don’t exist anymore.” The officer wasn’t surprised. “Cities change.” “I know.” The traveler folded the paper carefully. “I guess I expected everything to be frozen in time.” The officer shook his head. “Nothing ever is.” The traveler sighed. “I almost canceled.” “Why?” “Because I thought… what’s the point if everything’s different?” The officer was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, “Do you have any children?” The traveler nodded. “A daughter.” “How old?” “Eight.” The officer smiled. “When she’s fifty-eight…” The traveler listened. “…do you think she’ll remember your house exactly as it is today?” He thought about it. “Probably not.” “But will she remember how it felt?” The traveler smiled. “Yeah.” “I think so.” The officer nodded. “Places matter.” He paused. “But people usually miss the feeling more than the building.” The traveler stared at the old handwritten list. Suddenly, crossing out a few places didn’t seem so disappointing. The officer stamped the passport. A loud thump echoed across the counter. “Welcome.” The traveler picked it up. “Thank you.” He started to walk away. Then turned back. “Can I ask you something?” The officer smiled. “As long as it isn’t about customs.” The traveler laughed. “After all these years…” He gestured toward the endless line of passengers. “…what’s the most common reason people travel?” The officer didn’t hesitate. “They’ll tell me work.” He smiled. “Vacation.” He shrugged. “Conferences.” Then his expression softened. “But if you watch long enough…” The traveler waited. “…you realize almost everyone is traveling because someone, somewhere, matters to them.” The traveler nodded slowly. He slipped his grandfather’s list back into his pocket. Then walked toward the arrivals hall. Not expecting to find the country his grandfather had left behind. Just hoping to understand why he’d never forgotten it.

@TJHall81 I've used it, but I felt it wasn't sufficient. I moved to Grammarly. If you're not using the premium options, I've found Grammarly, ProWritingAid and Hemingway functions comparable.

Anyone else use hemingway editor? Is it good to use long term? Any other equivalents? #writerslift #writerslife #AuthorsOfTwitter #author #Writer #writerscommunity

@Ahmad_ftk In all seriousness, it could come down to what they feel they have time for and what that time is worth to them. We don't have as much time as we need for everything. Sometimes it's about drawing a line and accepting what that means. At least that's the reason I restrict anything

I can’t wrap my head around the fact that there are actually people out there who don’t read fiction!! I mean,……. WHYYY?

@Ahmad_ftk Wait until you hear about the people who don't read. 😳

Silas and his father shared the house like roommates more than family. It was the only explanation he had: a #florid romance had clouded his judgment. After only months together, his father showed his new girlfriend the portal. #vss365 #tweetale

Procrastination isn't laziness. Sounds great, right? But what is it exactly? Fear, uncertainty, perfectionism, exhaustion, or trying to protect ourselves from emotional risk. Looking back on the variations, I think I was writing around it the whole time. elizabethnjogu.co.ke/blog/procrasti…

A drastic shift in the town caused a subtle shift in their household. Plans shelved. Grief forgotten too fast, without a #grain of regret. Life was good for everyone, including Silas. His father started dating again. Too soon. #vss365 #tweetale

@HoneyMerci88by This is what I think. Once you unlock writing, there's no real way to go back to not writing. (It feels like trying to unlearn how to walk.)

@ENjogu Quitting publishing is valid. Quitting writing is impossible. A beta reader helps you remember why you started. Your story deserves fresh eyes before you decide.

Is it really possible to quit writing? [I've seen a lot of authors say they are going to quit but does that mean publishing and marketing their stories or never writing again? Can someone go back to not telling stories once they know how?] #writingcommunity #WriteChat

Writing is a solo task, but we don't have to do it completely alone. I’m sharing how running writing workshops unexpectedly helped me find community again after the loss of NaNoWriMo—and how it's pushing me back toward my own stories. Sign up here eepurl.com/g6nAOX

The changes to the town were more abrupt. An unnatural #lurch nobody would be able to ignore. But they ignored it, and Silas had to deal with people acting even stranger than usual because they knew he knew. #vss365 #tweetale

There is something in the atmosphere in places. Call it ambience and charge for it. Call it character and people flock there on their own. Lift your nose in the air, sniff loudly and ask, “What’s that smell?” then watch the atmosphere change altogether. #fromoneline #tweetale

My food blogger has done it again. Ever wanted to know how to make rice? Because there is only one right way. 😌 Educate yourself. Please. elizabethnjogu.co.ke/stories/short-…

The loss of his mother triggered an investigation that called their desperate quest to protect the town into question, but it fuelled that unknown engine. The town revived, and all Silas could do was #clench his jaw and hope his silence didn’t break his teeth. #vss365 #tweetale

The orange-bottomed bumblebee was as pretty as a bee could be. A stinger, seldom used, brought that bottom to a point. I could pet that pretty bee and end up pained and swollen. Or watch it work from a distance, safe from that piercing posterior. #fromoneline #tweetale

@Iamemperor00 It's like a dad joke...with multiple punchlines. 🤣

Teacher: “Why were you absent yesterday?” Student: “I was at my own funeral.” Teacher: “Try again.” Student: “I was at my own funeral.” Teacher: “You’re sitting right here.” Student: “That’s what confused everyone.” Teacher: “I’m already regretting asking.” Student: “Understandable.” Teacher: “Explain.” Student: “Someone posted online that I had died.” Teacher: “And people believed it?” Student: “Apparently.” Teacher: “Without checking?” Student: “You’d be surprised.” Teacher: “So where does the funeral come in?” Student: “My relatives organized a memorial.” Teacher: “In one day?” Student: “My family is very efficient.” Teacher: “And nobody called you?” Student: “My phone was dead.” Teacher: “Of course it was.” Student: “When I arrived, there were flowers.” Teacher: “You’re joking.” Student: “I wish.” Teacher: “What did you do?” Student: “I walked in.” Teacher: “And?” Student: “My aunt fainted.” Teacher: “Reasonable.” Student: “My cousin screamed.” Teacher: “Also reasonable.” Student: “My grandfather asked if ghosts could eat cake.” Teacher: “What?” Student: “There was memorial cake.” Teacher: “There was cake?” Student: “A surprisingly good one.” Teacher: “Please stay focused.” Student: “Sorry.” Teacher: “How did the rumor start?” Student: “That’s the best part.” Teacher: “I’m afraid to ask.” Student: “The post wasn’t even about me.” Teacher: “Then why did everyone think it was?” Student: “We have the same name.” Teacher: “Someone else died?” Student: “Yes.” Teacher: “That’s horrible.” Student: “It gets worse.” Teacher: “How?” Student: “The other guy was alive too.” Teacher: “…” Student: “He showed up halfway through.” Teacher: “There were two dead people at the same funeral?” Student: “Three, actually.” Teacher: “Three?” Principal: “Can someone explain why half the town attended my funeral yesterday?” Teacher: “I’m going home.”

@Iamemperor00 It sounds so ridiculous, but I swear I can see this happening for real. (And I might join in...just in case.) 😅

“Sir, are you aware there’s a queue forming behind you?” The man looked around. There were at least thirty people standing in line. “Yes.” “Why?” “They think I’m waiting for something.” The security guard blinked. “Are you waiting for something?” “No.” “Then why are you standing here?” “I was tying my shoe.” The guard stared at him. The man continued. “Then I got a text.” “And?” “I stood here reading it.” The guard looked at the line. People stretched around the corner. Some were holding coffee. A few had folding chairs. One woman was knitting. “How long have you been standing here?” “About forty minutes.” “And nobody asked what the line was for?” “Not a single person.” The guard walked to the first person behind him. “What are you waiting for?” The woman shrugged. “I don’t know.” “You don’t know?” “The line was already here.” “So why join it?” She looked offended. “Because there was a line.” The guard moved to the next person. “What are you waiting for?” “Not sure.” “Then why are you here?” “The lady in front of me looked confident.” The third person thought it was a product launch. The fourth thought it was concert tickets. The fifth believed it was a government service. Nobody knew. Yet nobody left. The guard informed everyone that the line wasn’t real. About half the people immediately walked away. The other half stayed. “Why are you still here?” the guard asked. A man near the middle shrugged. “Maybe that’s what they want us to think.” Within an hour the line doubled. People online started discussing it. Someone posted: “Whatever’s happening, get here fast.” Nobody knew what “it” was. But that message spread everywhere. Food vendors arrived. A local blogger started live-streaming. A newspaper photographer showed up. The city eventually sent an employee to investigate. “What’s this queue for?” Nobody knew. The employee asked who started it. Everyone pointed at the original man. By then he was desperately trying to leave. Each time he moved, the crowd moved with him. He walked across the plaza. The line followed. He crossed the street. The line followed. People assumed he was leading them to the real location. At sunset, nearly six hundred people were trailing him through downtown. “Please stop following me,” he begged. The crowd interpreted this as crowd-control instructions. They became even more organized. The situation finally ended when his wife arrived. She marched through hundreds of confused strangers and grabbed his arm. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?” “I accidentally created a queue.” She looked behind him. At the massive crowd. At the food trucks. At the news cameras. Then she nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like something you’d do.” She dragged him home. The crowd stood there awkwardly for ten minutes. Then someone asked: “So… same time tomorrow?” About fifty people actually came back the next day. Just in case.

His mother’s obsession with the portal became #fiend-ish. A particularly difficult treatment plan left her weak, exhausted and sicker than ever. She still found the strength to walk into the basement while everyone was asleep. Silas mourned. His father planned. #vss365 #tweetale