tomorrow silver
stream of consciousness/some thoughts, a clingy song and a list
March was for living and triumphs and tiredness and reminders and soaring and food and giving in to my strangest impulses and tv shows and looking back on what went right and a cover story and music and generosity and honest conversations and movement and 5am bedtimes and sowing and loving and appreciating what was right in front of me.
A song that first came to me in 2021 returned, and wouldn’t leave. It still stands in my mind like a hymn. It’s called Tomorrow Silver, by Msaki and Sun-El Musician. If asked to name a top ten over the last five years, this one would easily be on it. There are fragments to my love for this song: its composition, Msaki’s vocals, the instrumental arrangement, and even just that redeemed feeling it pours over me when I listen to it. But you see those lyrics, yeah? I feel them somewhere deep. These words describe where I currently am better than I can:
“I’ve been thinking about peace and how to keep it once I’ve found it/I’ve been thinking about money and how to keep it once I have it/I’ve been thinking about love and how to keep it once I’ve made it/
you’ve been my friend on days that I’ve prayed and nothing has changed for me.”
I’ve also been thinking about God, and how I relate to God as the dimensions of my faith change. I know that the God I speak to is personal to me, and suited for my specific ehi (same meaning as ori or chi— whichever applies). I know that my access to the God I know is not necessarily widely accessible, so - to my relief - there is no longer a need to evangelise. I have conversations about God, and I maintain certain silences about God too. I know what I think of as true for me, but no matter how steadily I believe it, that doesn’t mean it’s anyone else’s. What if your spirit needs something else? A different side of God, a different face, a different form altogether? Only you can know.
Every faith builds on a story about people and God and what that relationship means. In deconstructing the faith I am coming from, I’ve been looking closer at concepts such as salvation, sanctification, repentance, eternity, forgiveness etc and the foundational story that they grow from. I have a lot of thoughts that are not for this place. But, I want to share these words below, which I wrote down some weeks ago:
What would it mean or look like to pray for God to comfort — not forgive or destroy or punish or kill — the parts of you that harden or hide because of hurt or anxiety or shame? What would it be like to have a Spiritual Fortress one could trust like that? These are some questions I can ask myself often when I am feeling the need to scrape my knees on rocks in apology or slice off parts of myself because they cannot be beheld by a Force who is too pure to look at them. My God is not too pure for me. There is no side of me that God cannot look at with ease. So, I ask these questions to remind me of what differences exist between what I know now and what I used to know. I ask them openly, so that I can be pointed back to the parts of God that are truly mine to experience. Remember, there is no version of you that falls outside of the imagination of the God who is yours, and whose you are. Some things are habit. You can learn to live in the gospel you currently believe.
Every time I put some new work out into the world, there are many quiet high points. Getting to know just how deeply other artists whose work I have digested are also transformed by what I make will never get old. Like, what a feeling! I would like to bottle it.
I have a strong memory of dancing repeatedly in front of the TV to Amerie’s One Thing in my school uniform and now, two decades later, she’s talking to her book club about my forthcoming novel. I used to read Kaveh Akbar’s poems and dissect them with friends before he read Vagabonds! and we started talking and realised we share an agent. His blurb for Necessary Fiction made my throat tight when it came in. Still does. Years ago, I was upstairs in Freedom Park Lagos, quietly beating my work into shape when a room of writers burst into applause because Marlon James had won the Booker Prize. We had never spoken then, but all six hundred and something pages of his novel A Brief History Of Seven Killings were still swimming in my mind. To know that he could win the Booker was validating, because the language in that work singed my understanding of what a novel must be. It was a timely reminder that iconic novels are about more than well-behaved prose, and following the rules of how to make a classic. Marlon has now loved and blurbed two of my books, and we share an editor. I remember being re-formed by Bassey Ikpi’s writing in her book “I’m Telling The Truth But I’m Lying.” We have had conversations since about many things, but the awe doesn’t wear off. That book is a lifesaving guide, a map, and in some ways, an interpreter for anyone trying to see their mind with more compassion and/or clarity. And Yrsa Daley Ward? Whew. An artist. My friend. A truthteller. The Catch is another book I can’t wait for you all to meet this year. Keep an eye out. Nicole Dennis-Benn is a sharp writer whose work observes the ways in which we live and then unspools all that nuance in assured prose. Another writer whose work I have always been drawn to wrote me the other day, calling NF, “a thing of beauty, a divine assignment made manifest.” It’s a blessing to see how they have all taken the time to meet, and write about my new novel in their own words.
I’ve shared the full blurbs by Yrsa, Nicole, Bassey and Kaveh in other posts. I’m sharing Amerie and Marlon James’ blurbs of Necessary Fiction below. There’ll also be a small list of recommendations to follow:
“If you’re looking for a new summer read, look no further than Necessary Fiction by Eloghosa Osunde. This is a powerful provocative story about paths, dreams, hopes, fears and survival in contemporary Nigeria.”
— Amerie, Grammy Nominated singer-songwriter and author of This Is Not A Ghost Story
I recently read Nnedi Okorafor’s Death of The Author. I thought it was brilliantly executed. Would recommend.
“Even if our hearts condemn us, we know that God is greater than our hearts, and knows all things.” — 1 John 3:20
I’m currently obsessed with this song called ‘petit couer’ by Yseult. She is singing for her life in there.
Looking back, it’s funny to me the ways I was considering expanding this newsletter some weeks ago. If you remember, I was thinking about making different tiers and sharing more personal essays, etc. (And yes) maybe it’s just how I’m feeling today, but like, with which energy? Lol. These are relatively calm months, and still, my days are full of other commitments. Most of my longer thoughts go straight into my journal which I write by hand to clear my cache, and my other writing is going into the manuscript I’m currently working on. I like that. I’ve also realized that turning this space into a partly paid one may change the tone for me, and my relationship to it as a playstation. I don’t want to have to figure that out. I was and am so glad to know that there are people who would willingly become paid subscribers of The Trove (thank you so much!), but to be honest with myself and with you, what I need more right now is for people who want to support me in $ ways to preorder my novel Necessary Fiction. If you have already, please consider ordering one for a friend or someone you love. If you can’t do that, please continue spreading word with me on your public channels (to social media, your mailing list or newsletter etc) or even in private.
#NecessaryFictionIsComing
Preorder links here:
I also want my God to not be too pure for me. So that I don’t have to slink away in shame when I am not in a state of grace.
I want a serendipity like yours, where I tell stories the universe linked to one another like crumb tails.
I also cannot wait for Necessary fiction
I will get NF once it's available in Nigeria. Kudos, Eloghosa. Kudos!