After I wrote my fourth novel two years ago I toldmyself I was hanging the pen. The reason was that Ithought I had written all that I needed to write as faras book-writing was concerned and then face otherthings. Besides that and I don t know if this is thesame with other writers I find no joy in writing.Writing to me is a tedious exercise; it tasks my brainand wearies my flesh.Whether this has to do with the fact that the Englishlanguage is not as they say my mother tongue Idon t know; but I wish to say here that it takes memuch time and effort to come up with a good andflawless sentence. It s not unusual for me to spend awhole day trying to fix or rephrase a sentence Iconsider defective. And it s equally not unusual too for me to wake up from sleep in the middle of thenight or to switch off my car in the middle of the roadto put down a useful idea or a story line or a goodsentence that flashes across my mind. All this to abusy man like me I must confess is weariness of theflesh.However the consolation I have is that whenever anyof my books gets eventually published it enjoys widereadership especially among the youths who invariably are my target audience