
Cheers to 2025
Every New Year holds promise, as though it is any different from the turn of
“It’s three years already?”
Tempus fugit is a Latin phrase, usually translated into English as “time flies”. And yes its been three years already. Time indeed flies when you are having fun.

I stumbled on my second anniversary blog post, exactly a year ago, and I knew there was no way I wouldn’t be putting up a blog post to celebrate this important milestone.
First, I must give thanks and glory to God for making the seeds sown over the many months to yield harvest in good time.
At the time I uploaded the first blog post- My interview story on November 2019, after we had missed the initial launch date by 5days, I had no clue what laid ahead on this journey.
I was convinced at the time that it was the next and right thing to do. I wanted to learn quickly in that space and to grow while churning out as many literary works as I could.
After self-publishing my first book – Prisoner of Fate in November 2021, on all platforms including Amazon and other online and digital platforms, I was buoyed by the warm reception and encouraged to reach out for the next book almost immediately.
My two-in-one novella (Waste of Sin & Blood in the Water), had been completed by January 2022 and so I re-started the publishing process all over again. This time with a clear direction and purpose since I was going through the same editing and publishing processes I had employed for my first book.
If you ask me whether the books were commercially viable, I would say absolutely YES. I developed a marketing tactic for the virtual launch for both books and engaged launchers from within my social and professional circles, allowing for exclusive purchase and delivery of tons of books even before they hit the bookstores.
I also reached out to more bookstores than I did at the time I published Prisoner of Fate. It was easy since I already had a book that could easily be referenced. In fact I doubled the number of bookstores and reached out to others in Ghana, Kenya and Uganda.

Marketing of my books were a combination of online and social media activation, TV feature, radio book reviews, mainstream newspaper interviews and book reading events.
I went further away from the shore to organize three successful book reading events on the Lagos mainland and the island. At all the sessions, over a quarter of all the books printed were sold.
We (My team and I) partnered with reputable bookstores to gain traction, leveraging their online presence and getting the books some deserved visibility. I had engaged an assistant who visited all the book stores once every month to confirm the visibility and positioning of the books on the shelves. She would spend time in each bookstore selling to customers as they walked in, directly accounting for a good number of books sold.
She did an amazing job.
I replaced two social media managers during that time too. They were pretty good handlers, but left me in the lurch somewhere in between for reasons I still can’t fathom.
I settled on my current social media handler and she has done amazing work with the accounts. She has grown followership in leaps and bounds. The growth is totally organic and tedious. But consistency was the key value on display.
We spent a good sum of money on engaging influencers to review the two books online around the world and in Nigeria.
We spent even more on ads on facebook and instagram to grow following. This worked to some extent.
Within weeks, I had started my own instagram book review account to provide services and earn a token reviewing other writers works. Iron sharpeneth iron.
Interesting you’d say!
This year, I went a notch further venturing to the TV screens and traditional mass media like the newspapers.
The punch newspaper covered an author’s interview in May before I hopped on book review programmes at two TV stations- TVC and Rave TV.
I am grateful for the support I received from Benji of Classic FM, as he hosted a very insightful and critical review of Waste of Sin and Blood in the water, on his radio show, Book review with Benji.
I tried hard to get on the popular Channels book review programme without success. This is something I am hoping to get a strong in-route into as soon as I can connect the relationship dots.
I was also hosted on online book review groups with lots of positive vibes and giddy excitement.

One of the highlights of these period was an art and literary festival for which I was a guest of my publisher, where the first few scenes of my second book, Waste of Sin, was dramatized in a surprise move that blew me away.
I am still unable to describe the way I felt as I watched the plot unfold as familiar names and scenes from the story were brought to life effortlessly.
I am unrelenting as my next book, my memoir (untitled at this time), is currently at the final editing and proof reading stage, set for publishing in the first quarter of next year.
My fourth book will follow almost in quick succession, before the end of 2023. My fourth book will be a collection of short stories which have been published on the blog post in the months of September to November 2022.
This book already has a tentative title –Dreams from Yesterday.


I am well on course to write and publish 10 books before 50. I honestly do not know how this would pan out, but I intend to keep at it until something gives.
On this journey, I have been privileged to meet Lola Shoneyin, the famous author of The secret lives of Baba Segi’s wives and to make acquaintance with the publisher of Masobe books, Othuke Ominiaboh to mention a few.

This year, conversations around making my first two books into movie also picked up tempo. A group of my very good Indian friends showed amazing support and willingness to provide resources to rewrite some of the scripts for an Indo-Naija movie.
I also can’t get over the thrill.
Sometimes it feels almost unreal. Almost.
I met with the popular and successful Nollywood producer, Zeb Ejiro on this project. This is work in progress. So be on the look-out.

I am not sure I can capture all the great things that has happened thus far, but I can assure you, I am just as shocked as you are. I am enjoying the thrill, but I am convinced there is more in this space to do.
I think I must close by thanking my family for standing by me and allowing me the space and time to write. Literally no one can breath anywhere around me when I am looking for words to color my stories. It has to be still and absolutely quiet. They have endured and basked in the recognition all the way. This is to say thank you.
And to my teeming fans, I am not sure I know how many you are 9you are a fan if you are caught reading this post…lol), I love you and say a heartfelt thank you for being patient with the suspense and the thrill my stories elicit.

I am now very clear, that the genre of the stories I enjoy writing are best described as Dark Thriller.
So, if you are wondering why my stories end the way they do, look no further.
I am looking to mentoring other young writers and to provide my platform for their work in the coming months. If you see less of my writings on the blog, please do not be alarmed. I am probably cooking something big and need others to take the initiative.
Cheers.



Every New Year holds promise, as though it is any different from the turn of

In an era that increasingly demands hyper-specialization, Akin Akingbogun stands out as a refreshing anomaly. He is a man who refuses to be confined to a single box.

There is a particular kind of silence that falls on a man when the phone stops ringing, the proposals go unanswered, and the diary that once groaned under the weight of appointments sits quietly — almost mockingly — open. If you have ever been there, you know it.

Let me tell you something uncomfortable: the most generous person you know — the one who volunteers every weekend, donates quietly, never asks for anything in return — is probably getting something out of it. Not money. Maybe not even recognition. But something.

Adaeze had been awake since 4 a.m.
Not because she was anxious — though she was — but because this trip felt different. After eighteen months of follow-ups, phone calls, and PowerPoint presentations polished to a mirror shine, the deal was finally ready to close. An investor meeting in Abuja. A partnership that would change the trajectory of her small but gutsy consulting firm. She had triple-checked her flight, her documents, her outfit. She had prayed. She was ready.

When he told his father, Dare’s first response was a sigh. Then: “I told you to practice more. I told you months ago. You don’t listen. You never listen.”
There was no “I’m sorry, son.” No pause to let the boy simply feel the loss of the thing he wanted. Just a swift, seamless pivot to what Temi had done wrong — and, by extension, how Temi’s failure was evidence of Temi’s failure to take his father’s wisdom seriously.

I want to tell you something that took me embarrassingly long to learn. Not because the idea is complicated — it is not. But because it cuts against something deeply wired in us, something we are rarely honest enough to admit.

You are somewhere between forty and fifty-five. You looked in the mirror recently and had a thought you immediately dismissed. Maybe you googled something at 2am that you would never say out loud. Maybe you bought something expensive and impractical and told everyone it was an investment. Or maybe you just feel — quietly, persistently — like the life you built was supposed to feel better than this by now.

Anton Chekhov was a Russian physician and playwright — a man trained in the discipline of diagnosis before he became one of the most precise storytellers in the history of world literature. That combination of sensibilities matters, because the principle he articulated in the late nineteenth century was not merely a rule of dramatic craft. It was an observation about the nature of significance itself. About what it means for something to be present. About the relationship between introduction and consequence.

There is a prison that has no concrete walls, no iron bars, no guards posted at the gate. Nobody built it for you. Nobody sentenced you to it. And yet, for many people, it is the place they spend the better part of their lives — circling its perimeter, brushing their fingers against its invisible boundaries, and quietly retreating each time they feel the edge of something that might require more of them than they believe they can give.

Picture a hand holding sand. The tighter the grip, the faster the grains escape between the fingers. Ease the grip — open the palm, allow the hand to become a vessel rather than a vice — and the sand stays. This is one of the oldest paradoxes of leadership, and one of the least learned: that control, pursued too aggressively, produces the very loss of control it was designed to prevent.

There is a version of ambition that builds. And there is a version of ambition that consumes. From a distance — and especially from inside it — they look almost identical. Both are energetic. Both are forward-moving. Both speak the language of vision and possibility. The difference only becomes visible later, usually at the point of fracture, when what was built begins to come apart under the weight of what was promised.

There is a particular kind of organisational absurdity that most people who have ever worked in a company will recognise immediately. It is the policy that was clearly designed by someone who has never had to implement it. The restructuring that looked elegant on a slide deck and chaotic on the ground. The customer-facing process that was overhauled by a committee that has not spoken to a customer in years. The directive that arrives from above, fully formed and non-negotiable, that causes the people closest to the work to exchange a look — the kind of look that says, without words: they have no idea what we actually do here.

We have built an entire mythology around exhaustion. In boardrooms and business culture — perhaps nowhere more so than in the high-pressure, always-on professional culture many of us inhabit — busyness has become a currency. To be tired is to be serious. To be overwhelmed is to be important. To be burning out, quietly, is somehow proof that you are fully committed.
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8 thoughts on “Third Year Anniversary of the Blog”
Well done Akin, well done!
Well done Akin. I know it’s not been as easy as you’ve summarised but I appreciate your dexterity and hunger to do better. I wish you success in your endeavours. I celebrate you my friend.
Great journey and greater ones ahead. All the best.
Amaaaazzinnnnggg! It really has been a long and exciting journey. Well done AK….
Happy New Year Sir.
I must commend you for holding it down for 3 years. I can’t say I understand how easy it is to always push stories out for people’s reading pleasure. I’m certain a lot of work must have gone into it.
Thank you so much for giving us joy and making us reminisce in thoughts through the stories you share.
Happy Anniversary!
Outstanding and exciting journey. Welldone boss. Greater you God’s willing. HNY
It’s the consistent drive for me!!! The speed and progress is just mind-blowing. Sir, your works stand out big big time! Dark Thriller…there we go with you sir! Between, having me mentioned in this post, I am honoured. I look forward to reading the other books( to make it 10) before you clock 50. Yes!
Wow, congratulations
I really love your choice of words and the composure of your writing.