Diary of a Sankwas Girl

I like to call myself a story teller, because quite frankly that sounds miles better than calling myself a liar. 

I can't remember what year it was but there was an earthquake when I was growing up in Accra. I remember giving at least six different accounts of where I was when the earthquake happened. In one account I was at home with my parents in another I was out in the streets battling nature in all its ferocious glory.

Needles to say, fiction has always been waaaayyy more exciting than fact. Whenever life got a little bit too truthful I found a story and character to conveniently hide behind. Still not a liar just a young woman with an over active imagination.

But alas! it is this same wild imagination that has led to many a dark day. Imagining things that are simply not there. Predicting the worst when life hasn't even predicted the script that way. Or in relationships, forcing men into characters they never signed up for all because I'd written the story how I saw fit. I would subsequently get angry, frustrated or just check out. The plan these days is to save my stories for my note pad and writing competitions- you know for the readers who want to escape to 1940 where Rosa owns a brothel and is hiding from the king. I'm letting life do it's own story telling, I'm not forcing the story- I'm not forcing the script.