If you asked whether I started this blog out of passion, you’d be wrong. Passion is overrated. Most of the things we do aren’t born out of passion. Steve Jobs didn’t start Apple because he was obsessed with computers. He wasn’t even a computer science student. In fact, at Reed College, he majored in English before dropping out, spending more time exploring philosophy, Zen Buddhism, and ideas about mindfulness and simplicity. If he had followed his “passion,” he might have ended up a monk, not a business mogul.
As for me? I started this blog because I was bored. I needed something to occupy my mind, something to keep me from scrolling endlessly or drowning in the monotony of work. You see, day jobs eat up so much mental space that you start losing touch with the things you love. For me, that’s reading.
As a kid, comic books were my world. I’d devour them like snacks. As an adult, that love stuck around. Now I’m consumed by sci-fi, history (funny enough, I hated it in school), adventure, politics, and fantasy. I’ve written short stories, movie scripts, documentary scripts, and random thoughts scribbled in notebooks. But I wanted something that would pull me back into reading and writing regularly. This blog became that outlet.
And here we are… one year later. Fifty-two weeks of Stanlite. Fifty-two Sundays. Fifty-two articles. Fifty-two moments of self-inflicted pressure to sit down and write something… anything. It became a ritual. James Clear… yes, the Atomic Habits guy once said: “You don’t have to be perfect, you just have to be consistent.” So I chose consistency. Every Sunday, without fail, I posted.
Did I care whether people were reading? Honestly, not really. This was more about the act of writing than the audience. Seth Godin does the same. He writes a lot, whether people read or not. That’s the spirit I borrowed.
But the surprising thing is, people did actually read. Over 2,900 views in a year. That’s not viral, I know, but hey, it’s not nothing either. My best-performing article, “The Curse of a Good Idea,” pulled over 400 views on its own. Apparently, people love reading about curses hahaha. So, thank you… yes, you… for clicking, skimming, reading, or even accidentally landing here. You made this ritual feel less like shouting into the void.
Over the past year, I have wandered across different themes. Four times I dipped into business, trying to make sense of how people build and break businesses. Seventeen articles were broad and general, pieces where I just let my thoughts spill without worrying about categories. Innovation showed up three times, usually when I was fascinated by how new ideas sneak into the world. Life itself claimed eleven Sundays because, well, life keeps happening and it demands reflection. Marketing was my most frequent stop, with fourteen articles probably because it sits close to me and it’s everywhere, shaping how we see and buy and believe. Technology saw three pieces, but each one reminded me that we’re living in a world that is constantly rewiring itself.
But if I’m being honest, my favourite piece wasn’t the one with the most views. It was “What We Become,” an unofficial review of my friend Praise Umali’s album of the same name. Boy, did I pour my heart into that one. The album itself is a meditation on life, on the quiet transformations we go through, on the weight of choices and the beauty of becoming. Writing about it felt less like penning an article and more like opening a window into my own soul. I wasn’t just reviewing music; I was wrestling with the same questions the songs asked. If you haven’t listened to the album yet, go do it. Really.
Surely, if this were the gym, I’d probably have a six-pack by now. Instead, I’ve got 52 articles that no one really asked for. But I enjoy it. I enjoy the ritual and the quiet satisfaction of hitting “publish” every Sunday. And that’s enough.
Now, as I step into year two, I’m thinking of shaking things up. Maybe not every Sunday. Maybe I’ll add audio versions for the lazy ones who’d rather listen than read. Maybe I’ll experiment with new formats. Who knows?
And of course, I couldn’t have done this alone. Writing might look like a solo sport, but trust me, it’s not. James Leo Chikaonda — thanks for all the conversations that dragged me into this difficult hobby. Alinafe Mulenga, ACIM — my sounding board; those long calls dissecting ideas kept me sane. Man, thanks a million. Gary Samati — my unofficial editor (I still don’t have money to pay you, though—hahaha). Fatso Makuluni — for the brutally honest reviews. Comfort Khaula — she has read every single one of these articles and sparked exciting conversations after each one. Cecellia Shammim Saidi — you gave me the push to actually pursue this. Esther Louisa Msiska — fellow blogger, you reviewed my first publications and gave me confidence that I wasn’t writing crap (hahaha). Daniel Ngwira —ndiwe dolo aise, thanks for always encouraging me to write. And to Hillary Ngwira, Miranda Dula, Shania Kuseka, Pheona Saukila, Alfred Machado and Arthur Muyepa – you guys rock. Thanks for the support.
A year ago, I sat down with nothing but time and a little boredom. Today, I have fifty-two articles and a Sunday ritual I wouldn’t trade. So here’s to boredom and to hobbies, because the best things start without us knowing where they’ll lead.
