Favvy_Okwans🖤

There’s a way a writer lives. And I don’t mean the aesthetic. Not the coffee, not the books, not the “soft life writer” vibe people post on Instagram. I mean the actual lifestyle. The one that happens quietly. The one that happens in the mind, in the heart, in the way you move through life. Because writing isn’t just what I do. It is who I am. It is the way I process the world. Sometimes, I’ll be in a place and everyone is present, laughing, gist-ing, living normally… but my mind is somewhere else, collecting details. I’m watching the way someone’s eyes change when they mention a name. I’m noticing how somebody smiles but their voice doesn’t match it. I’m hearing words, but I’m also hearing what is not being said. And I don’t even do it on purpose. It’s just the way my mind works. To be a writer is to never fully rest. Even in moments that seem ordinary, something in you is always paying attention. Your heart is always taking notes, your brain is always recording, your spirit is always...

Someone once told me they wonder what my mind looks like. And I laughed out loud, because trust me… you don’t want to see the state of a writer’s mind. You see, the place where beautiful writing comes from isn’t always as calm as people imagine. Sometimes, my mind is scattered chaos. A clash of cultures, thought patterns, random ideas, content angles, story plots, conversations I haven’t even had, and emotions I don’t yet understand… all trying to spill out of me at the same time. The way I process things is messy. But maybe that’s the point. Because writing doesn’t start from my fingertips. It doesn’t even start from my pen or my keyboard. Writing starts from the mind. From that chaotic, overactive space where everything is always happening at once. That is what makes a writer. The way we think, the way we see things, the way our minds pull invisible strings together and find words to match images people can actually picture. And it makes me ask myself sometimes… How do I ...

“Writing is writing.” A friend of mine reached out to me today, complaining. The moment her church people found out she’s a writer, they gave her a task to write a poem for an upcoming program. Meanwhile, the kind of writing she does is ghostwriting foreign stories. When she tried to explain, they were like, “All is writing jhoor.” I couldn’t even help but laugh because if only they had read the things she writes, they wouldn’t ask her for that. But I understood her frustration, because I’ve been there too. I think people forget that writing has different niches. You say you’re a writer and the next thing you hear is, “Oh my God, how many books have you written?” I’m always like, calm down first… I haven’t written any. There are storytellers, poets, content writers, essayists, researchers, novelists, script writers, copywriters… so many branches. Yes, they are connected, but they are not the same thing. And the truth is, your niche is usually the one that flows for you with...

You know how people get angry and just… explode? Raise their voice, say things, pour everything out in the heat of the moment? Yeah… I do that too, just not with my mouth, I do it with words, i do it in writing, and that’s one thing about being a writer, you get to feel everything fully without necessarily destroying everything around you. Because if I’m being honest, I can be very emotional. And when I’m angry, I’m not just angry… I’m angry. There was this day, a course mate did something that really got to me. I could feel the rage building, like something sitting hot in my chest, waiting to spill. I wanted to react, I wanted to say something. But I knew… if I opened my mouth, my words would be laced with venom, so I didn’t. I instead walked away, found a quiet corner, and sat on a staircase. Next thing, I was typing fast. Almost like my fingers were trying to outrun my emotions, I was infact pouring everything out. Every single thing I wanted to say, i said it there. On that page. A...

To describe what it means to be a writer in one sentence, I’d say this: You don’t break down, you turn it into content. I can’t even count how many times I’ve poured out my entire heart into writing. Depressed, excited, confused, angry, in love… anything I feel, I write it. That’s one thing I love about writing. The freedom, the kind that lets you say everything without actually saying anything directly. Sometimes, it feels like I hide behind words, but at the same time, I’ve shared almost everything I’ve ever felt… just in a way people don’t always recognize, I'll feel something deeply, and the next thing, I’m already writing it down. And then people read it, and be like; “Favour, this is so good.” “You write so well.” And in my head, I’m like, as how na? Because many times, I’m not just “writing well.” I’m writing my feelings, how do you call a cry for help, coated in poetry, an excellent piece? Can you not see that I’m not even okay? But then again… I’m grateful. Grateful that I...

Just because I’m still hooked on How to Get Away with Murder, something from today’s episode really stood out to me. Let me give you small background. So, Annelise Keating, our main character, is a brilliant lawyer. She had this huge case to argue at the Supreme Court. It was her first time there, and it meant everything to her. She had prepared and prepared… but just a few minutes before the hearing, she got a call that completely broke her. Now, this is Annelise we’re talking about. One of the strongest characters I’ve ever seen. There’s almost nothing this woman hasn’t gone through, and still, she survives. So when I say this call broke her, I mean for the first time in four seasons, she actually gave up. It was that bad. I was literally holding my breath. Anyway, her partner walks in and finds her on the floor, crying. She tells her, “Annelise, whatever you need, just say it. You have less than five minutes to get into that courtroom.” And she says she needs vodka. Mind you, she’s ...