WHEN WORDS WIN YOU OVER

To almost anyone, who is not 'fluent with a pen', writing remains a complete mystery; one that is impossible to unravel. On the other hand, for those of us that have become disciples of diction- of words- being able to put strokes of ink upon paper is a rare gift. A gift that affords us the opportunity to escape into a world so different from the one that we wake up to each morning, by God's gracious making. A gift that enables us to express ourselves in a medium void of judgement and ridicule. A gift that, really and truly, permits us to explore our inner identity, whilst we gather the courage and confidence, needed, to share the core of our very being with others...

As a girl, I had always longed to be a great writer. I wanted to be able to write a piece in ten minutes tops. I wished that I would be able to exercise enough discipline, that I could chronicle my thoughts and emotions. I needed to be a part of that awesome literary world. I resolved that, with time, I would possess enough strength, as a writer, in order to be in the position to impart knowledge unto other people, to convey powerful messages to world, via the potency of diction itself.

And not only did I sit and daydream of these things. In a bid to realise my fantastical ideas (which they seemed to be, at the time) I worked hard. I read books, journals, letters, my Bible, I read and still do read my dictionary; committing to memory five to ten words daily. Above all, I practised. Just as a well acclaimed musician works at her violin, or as a jockey, constantly, rides his horse hard, I went all out, where my writing was concerned. I would create short stories and then ask my parents to read them over. I wrote poetry, made scripts of drama pieces. All I ever wanted to do was be an artist; I wanted to paint pictures, by employing words...

I can vividly recall the day that I became absolutely, downright smitten with words. I have always loved the beach- the soft, yet coarse, damp sand tickling my feet; the vast oceans in their seemingly endless entirety; the subtle, often harsh sea breeze upon my face; and oh, the lighting! Be it a sun kissed beach, or a moonlit one- even at a tender age, the beach always put me in the best of moods. And I would soon come to a realisation that those very sands and waters shall be my inspiration to write any piece at all. They would be the single, collaborating cure for my writer's block, any day, any time.

I was five months into my fourteenth year, my older cousin took my sisters, other cousins and I to one of Ghana's beaches. As usual, I was in awe, when I took in the setting. The breeze caught the scarf on my head, the salty waters glistened, as though tiny gems had been dispersed upon the big sea's surface. I threw off my sandals, walked to a spot on the sand, about 15ft away from everyone else. I sat, not even bothering to lay out my blanket first. I pulled out a homework book from my canvas bag, then a pencil (I always preferred to do my math in pencil). I began my work, moving at a steady pace...

As I write, I am still unsure of what came over me at that moment on the beach, on that September morning. All I can remember is watching my math book close. My little 'writing diary', as I had called it, lay on my lap now, my pencil remained in my hand. And I wrote ten poems at a go! If I felt tired, or lazy, all I had to do was look out, towards the ocean before me- and then I was re energised at once!

The feeling was inexplicable. I lost track of everything around me, save my book and my pencil. Suddenly, I understood myself better and I was ready to depict me, to share my thoughts, perceptions, opinions and emotions with other people. I felt liberated. I had discovered a new medium of expression...

This is what happens, when words win you over. You do not become a slave to words, no. On the contrary, you gain possession of the power that equips you with the required skill, that you can now arrange and rearrange words. You can tailor a group of words to suit the context, in which you wish to speak. You have command over the Language. All of this is really as a result of one bold, courageous step. Yes, it does take courage to write. When you are immersed in what you are writing, you no longer have control over what you are communicating to your readers, because your emotions, ideas and all those other things that you are putting into manuscript, they wash over you and breathe life into the vocabulary, into the diction, into the words. For that matter, your soul is bared for all to see. Now tell me I am wrong in saying that, one needs to be extremely courageous, in order to allow this to happen.

Hence, we can say that, when words win you over, your psyche- your state of mind- is greatly affected, because your conscious mind gives way to the sub conscious and this is why we say that writing takes you into another realm, where self-expression means pouring your heart out incessantly. This is especially true of poetic writing.

In short, writing is like love; it is hard for anyone to decipher the chemistry that exists between people, who love each other. One remains a stranger to love and love a stranger to one, until the one in question discovers love with another. You can only truly solve the mystery of writing, when you begin to speak the language of a writer: And that, my friends, will be the very point at which words will win you over.

APIORKOR .S. ASHONG