"I only wanna write what doesn’t exist." An interview with #WriterPrompt Winner Mame Bougouma Diene.

The Satellite Charmer

A polyharmony in B minor rang from a violin of space dust, drawing an undulating ♫ on the void from a tense string. “Sirius exploded at your birth,” his grandmother had told him. “You’ll become space itself one day, if you wish.”

And he had.

The sun shone inside his iris, a nebula tickled his inner ear, and each satellite mining Africa from space sparkled around the blue pebble where he had abandoned his body.

He flung the galactic bow away, the soundbox expanding, his fingers drumming the thick chords like a bass. The satellites winked out as giant ♬♫♩♪ hammered them in waves, destroying cities across the planet. Somewhere his body died. His fingers merged with the chords, he and the bull fiddle were one vibration, bouncing between satellites until a ring of debris circled the earth. He inhaled, or rather somewhere in the vastness of space a galaxy exploded. He let his fingers rest. Light years away the bass line birthed a star.

His grin lingered as he dangled the insignificant planet, tempted to crush it; when through a black hole somewhere in infinity, something glowed, something new, and he turned his eye away from Earth forever.

Mame Bougouma Diene won SSDA's 10th #WriterPrompt with his story ‘The Satellite Charmer’. He work features regularly in the African SciFi scene, and he participates regularly in SSDA events and competitions.

Your speculative fiction shorts are seeing a lot of press, including "Hell Freezes Over" which is part of the AfroSFv2 anthology. What attracts you to the genre? 

MAME:  I’m really stoked about AfroSFv2; it’s gonna be something else, and I’m happy to get my work out there. Working with different editors helps improve very fast.

I don’t know if I have a straightforward answer. It is a bit odd, because as a person, intellectually, I am very much attached to facts. Historic, scientific and cultural, researched precisely. I abhor conspiracy theories and the like, racial appropriations and such. I’d rather my spin on reality be fictional than have my reality spin doctored.  

I have tried to write a “normal” thing, being a big Paul Auster fan, but it ended up being the story of a serial killer who only kills children with down-syndrome and only on Christmas eve. That’s when I realized it was a waste of time trying to write regular or literary fiction.

I guess the bottom-line is that I grew up with Voltron, Thundercats and lots of Japanese animé. My parents had me sit through Dune when I was six or something, and my father used to read us a lot of myths and legends. Plus, as a Senegalese man, his view of the world is somewhat naturally mystic. Both my parents are huge sci-fi heads.

I honestly have no idea why I write SFF, probably because I like to get so many facts about reality, I only wanna write what doesn’t exist. 

In your writing, both fiction and non-fiction, do you easily switch between French and English?

MAME: Not really. Being a native speaker of two languages is not like most people [would] think [it is], which is that you’re some kind of natural interpreter. What it means is that you think constantly in two languages, start thinking in one and end in another, lose your train of thought because you’re thinking in English but this one word you only know it in French and vice versa. Changing frames of reference means deconstructing and reconstructing my brain to switch from one to another with the same amount of risk involved.

It’s the same when it comes to writing. I write predominantly in English because I read more in English. Concepts don’t always match in French and English, the flow of writing and speaking are very different, just as the expectations of what a “writer” should produce are different. French is very elitist in that regard and I don’t have time for those kinds of considerations. A lot of people ask me to help them correct translations, I give up within a second. Translation is a job for which most bilingual people are predisposed, but not naturally inclined. I really hope someone reads this so they can understand and stop asking me to help translate. I don’t need it, so I don’t do it.

I am working on some projects in French. I have one short published (not speculative) by Edilivre about a Senegalese illegal immigrant. Hopefully I’ll complete another by year’s end and have it out, speculative this time, about a Moroccan who builds a flying machine to make it illegally to France. 

Mame Bougouma Diene is a French-Senegalese American humanitarian based in Paris – unless you’re reading this in December, in which case he’s based in Mexico. He has a fondness for progressive metal, tattoo and policy analysis. He is published in Omenana, Brittlepaper and AfroSFv2.

Participate in #WriterPrompt by following Short Story Day Africa on Facebook. 

Interview by Tiah Beautement a.k.a. @ms_tiahmarie 

‘Everyone should be an artist, I think.’ An interview with Chinelo Okparanta.

 

Under the Udala Trees, Chinelo Okparanta's debut novel has received international critical acclaim. As Edwidge Danticat has made personal the legacy of Haiti’s political coming of age, Okparanta’s Under the Udala Trees uses one woman’s lifetime to examine the ways in which Nigerians continue to struggle toward selfhood. She spoke to SSDA.

You have an applauded writing history in short stories (we approve). Under the Udala Trees is your first novel. Was tackling a novel was a very different experience? Or was the writing process similar, but with more words?

CHINELO: Thank you. I’m glad you approve of my short stories. Writing my novel was different from writing the stories that went into my collection. The mulling-over of sad, upsetting occurrences in the lives of my characters for such an extended period of time—much longer than with my short stories—was not easy. And then of course, there are the practical things—the structuring of a novel, figuring out how to keep a narrative interesting for such a long stretch, etc. I don’t imagine these are ever easy for a first time novelist.

In her memoir Black Milk, Elif Shafak speaks of difficulty women writers have in writing about female sexuality in an authentic manner. That in these narratives, women often feel a need for "permission to tell the story."

Your book, Under the Udala Trees, is about a woman discovering her sexuality and the attempts others make in policing her very self. Was there a mental process you went through in order to give yourself permission to write this tale with the authenticity that it possesses?  

CHINELO: When I was younger, there was a sense of liberation in reading Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe—the realization that I had a culture worthy of putting into books, the realization that I had the power to tell stories that were true to my culture, and there would be a place for it. Since making that realization, no, I’ve not felt a need for any kind of permission to tell any of my stories. The stories come to me, and I simply do my best to get them down on the page in a way that upholds their cultural and emotional truths.

Your main character, Ijeoma, is put through so much and yet she is so nice. To everyone! I kept thinking, I'd be so angry. I was angry. I am angry. My 40th birthday is getting closer and we're still having these conversations [about female sexuality and same sex relationships]. I wanted to growl on Ijeoma's behalf.

Is it inner strength keeping her so nice? Or is she repressing it? Where is the space to be mad?

CHINELO: LOL. Anger has different manifestations. Not everyone shouts and screams and makes noise when they are angry. Sometimes angry people go quiet. Sometimes an angry person mulls. It seems to me that Ijeoma’s situation calls for the mulling kind of anger, especially given the cultural context in which she exists. Rather than raging outwardly in her anger, she sinks into it, thoughtful and all. Better to be thoughtfully angry than not, I think. But is she angry at times? Of course. She's angry, for instance, when Amina betrays her by marrying the young man. She’s angry with her mother when she senses that Adaora is in some sort of league with Chibundu and she is a pawn in their game. There are times when her anger comes out in the form of sadness and tears. Perhaps she doesn't get as volatile as some would like. But maybe that's just not her style.

Was writing this book at all therapeutic for you?

CHINELO: Writing is always therapeutic for me. It feels good to be meaningfully occupied in creating something good. It’s soothing. Everyone should be an artist, I think. As an artist, one has a deeper appreciation of how hard it is to create, and how beautiful and meaningful and important it is to create. If more people were artists, perhaps people would think twice before destroying things. The world might be a better, more respectful, more sympathetic, more collaborative place as a result.

Every writer wants to be read. This novel has received a lot of attention in both the Western and African press. How do you deal with that international spotlight?

CHINELO: It's frightful but fine as well. I am happy that people are reading and having conversations about topics and themes in the novel. It's good when literature opens up the doors for important conversations to be had. 

On Chinelo's Bedside Table

Igoni Barrett’s Blackass—a witty and funny, Kafkaesque novel set in Lagos, Nigeria; Amy Parker’s Beasts and Children, an emotionally intelligent, somewhat dark but also hopeful collection of linked stories set in the United States. I look forward to reading Elnathan John’s Born on a Tuesday. I have read excerpts of it, and he’s a beautiful writer. I’m excited to begin reading Chaitali Sen’s book, The Pathless Sky and Nicole Dennis-Benn’s Here Comes the Sun.

Born and raised in Port Harcourt, Nigeria, Chinelo Okparanta received her BS from Pennsylvania State University, her MA from Rutgers University, and her MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. Okparanta was one of Granta’s six New Voices for 2012. Her stories have appeared in the New Yorker, Granta, Tin House, The Kenyon Review, among others. Short-listed for the 2013 Caine Prize in African Writing, she is also a 2014 O. Henry Award winner and a 2014 Lambda Literary Award winner for Lesbian Fiction. She is the author of Happiness Like Water (2013), and Under the Udala Trees (2015).

Interview by Tiah Beautement a.k.a @ms_tiahmarie 

'I see loneliness in different forms'. An interview with Ciku Kimeria

Ciku Kimeria lives and works in Kenya as a writer, travel blogger and as a consultant on international development issues. She loves people, writing, learning different languages, and cultural exchanges.

Her first novel Of Goats and Poisoned Oranges has been well-received and has gained recognition on the African continent and beyond. It tells the story of a Kenyan middle-aged power couple and their complicated marriage. The novel explores issues of greed, revenge, betrayal and murder, and been described as “Wicked, funny, poignant, wacky, human, a big ball of fun and danger”; “A unique and captivating book”; and “Impossible to put down once you start reading.” Her novel has been launched and featured in events and newspapers, radio and magazines in Kenya, Ghana, Nigeria and Somaliland. Ciku sat down with SSDA to speak about her far-reaching work.

What compels you to write?

CIKU: I think there are two parts to this question – what makes me feel the need to write and what makes me think I have something worth saying. I will answer the last question first. I have written for as long as I can remember, but it was only in the past 5 years or so that I began thinking I could write for an audience larger than my immediate family and friends. Watching Chimamanda’s speech, “The danger of a single story” was the first time in my life that I thought that I a middle class Kenyan with what I would describe as a “relatively normal” upbringing, had something to say that would be worth people reading. I’ve always felt that the space one occupies as an “African writer” is one of great importance and as such for one to occupy this space you have to be speaking of themes such as war, AIDS, FGM, child soldiers etc. After watching this speech, I realized that we do need a diversity of stories representing the African experience – where it’s noteworthy that this experience is highly varied, and no one story can be used to define each of us. What compels me to write? To silence all the voices in my head that only give me some respite when I put pen down to paper (or in most cases – fingers to keyboard.)

Your novel, Of Goats and Poisoned Oranges, is a multi-threaded exploration of marriage, greed and truth. Loneliness also plays role in the tale, despite the numerous characters and being mostly set in the city of Nairobi. As one character observes, Loneliness is a strange thing to bring up with anyone. If you are lonely, yet you are surrounded by people, they think that you are saying that they somehow cannot provide you what you really need. This made me reflect on your characters and how many are isolated by their actions and secrets. These days, the internet is full of articles and theories on how, despite technology such as mobile phones and social media, people are becoming increasingly cut off each other. But what is interesting about your story, is that this isolation is happening inside the family, the workplace. What prompted you to explore this theme?

CIKU: The theme of loneliness for me is an interesting one, as I see loneliness in different forms. One is the main form that rushes to our minds – lacking friends, not having family, etc. The second form of loneliness is what I would call “internal loneliness” and is a major affliction for those in our generation. Despite having many people in our networks (including virtual networks – Twitter, Facebook, etc.) how many people do we think really understand us? Truly know us? How many can one actually call on in times of need? I also sometimes think of loneliness as “Who or what am I missing?” as opposed to “Who is around me?” This way of thinking makes me realize that I could be in a room with a hundred people and still feel completely alone. I could have family with me, but feel alone as I think of the sibling I no longer speak to. In a room with my children and think of the one who I lost before they even had a chance to get into our world. Look at my phone to see Whatsapp messages in 7 conversations, but only notice the echoing silence from that person I was really hoping had missed me too. This loneliness is the one the Muriungi in Of Goats and Poisoned Oranges feels. The feeling that even though he is surrounded by others, he is invisible to them. That feeling that you will always be a hand no glove can fit – or a hand that is doomed to always be in gloves that are too tight or gloves that make your hand itch. Cinderella’s shoe with no foot that will ever fit into it. Now, that is loneliness.
 

Your novel is self-published. The book has been read by more people than many titles published by a traditional publisher. What did you do to ensure people heard about your work and read it?

CIKU: One of my greatest strengths is that I love people – absolutely love humankind and always expect the best from people. Fortunately I am rarely disappointed.  As a self-published author, one has to be extremely strong-willed and good at building and fostering relationships. When you self-publish, people will only know about your book if you tell them about it. They will buy it only if you can convince them to. As such, if you are not a misanthrope, and are relatively outgoing and shameless enough, you will manage to sell lots of books even as a self-published author. The interactions I have had with people have been so important in getting my book into mainstream media.

My book was first discovered by the owner of Bookstop – one of the leading bookshops in Nairobi. They then decided to have my book signing with Jeff Koinange – one of Africa’s leading journalists. He was gracious enough to have me launch my book at the same event as his. I will forever appreciate that – I was an unknown writer at the time and he’s the type of person who draws thousands to any event he attends. Eventually Muthoni Garland – one of the co-founders of East and Central Africa’s largest book festival – found my book in the bookshop – enjoyed it and invited me to be a panellist at the festival. This was in late 2013. From then, all the friendships I have made and the connections have seen me launch my book or speak in literary events in Ghana, Nigeria, Rwanda, Somaliland, Uganda etc. I have had my book covered and/or reviewed in BBC Radio 5, Daily Nation (Kenya), The East African, True Love magazine (East Africa), Ndege News (East Africa), Business Daily (Kenya), Daily Monitor (Uganda), New Vision (Uganda), Citi fm (Ghana), Radio One (Nigeria), and Ebonylife (Nigeria). I have also been fortunate enough to be reviewed by bloggers in the region who I really respect – James Murua, Harriet Anena, CottageAoll, Craving Yellow etc. All the media coverage has helped me connect to more readers. 

In a nutshell, I would say that people will help you get where you need to as long as you let them know what you are doing and as long as you are willing to put in the hard work. I expect 2016 to be an extremely busy year, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
 

Since publishing Of Goats and Poisoned Oranges have there been any lessons that have made you swear, 'Next time I'll do it different'? If so, what?

CIKU: One of the main ones is that I would not be as quick to give books to people I don’t know too well and collect money later. I really hate having to call someone once a week (for a year) to send me my money. There is really no joy to be found in debt collection. When too many books have been given out on credit, it really becomes a headache to collect.

For my new novel I also plan to get a publisher – there are many things to be gained from having people who are experts at editing, book layout etc work on your book. I would still love to be able to do the book fairs, book clubs and one on one sale interactions with readers, but I would love to have experts work with me on the technical aspects of getting a book out.
 

Lastly, what are you currently working on?

CIKU: I have been so good at avoiding answering this question for a long time, but alas… the day has come.

Here is a brief teaser from the novel I am currently working on. I am really excited about this one and sometimes I can’t sleep as ideas run around my mind.

“A mother’s deathbed confession threatens to tear her family apart. A son who bears a lethal secret. A son whose guilt threatens to subsume him. A daughter who seeks solace in the spiritual world at the risk of losing herself. A daughter struggling through the pains of growing up in this modern world. A grieving husband who mourns more than just the wife he lost. How far are you willing to go to find the truth? To Uganda? Cote d’Ivoire? Comoros? Brazil – to the end of the world…and at what price does this truth come?”
 

What have you been reading, lately?

My most exciting reads of the past few months have been Jennifer Makumbi’s Kintu, Chuma Nwokolo’s Diaries of a Dead African, Zukiswa Wanner’s The Madams and Okey Ndibe’s Foreign Gods Inc. I read widely, but of late I have been reading a lot of African literature. It is truly magical to meet all these authors I really admire in person. There is no way I will pass up an opportunity to buy a signed copy of their books from them!
 

Do you have any writing or editing tips?

What works for me: I do not write and edit at the same time. I write first, then edit when I am essentially done. The main reason is that if I wrote and edited each page as I wrote it, I will get demotivated and think that my work is really crappy, and that I should not bother writing anymore. I therefore let my writing muse run wild, then I conjure up the editing muse to make sure what I have written can be understood by others.

I give myself lots of time between writing and editing. If I edit my work too soon, I am still too emotionally involved to be logical when editing. If I give myself a long enough break, I can almost edit my book as if I am a complete stranger reading it for the first time. My family can definitely attest to me laughing alone in the middle of the night as I reread something I wrote – after a long time it’s as if someone else wrote it and as if I am seeing it for the first time.

After the initial round of edits, it’s great to have as many people as possible read your work before you publish it. The experts are great, but also you should test your work with your would-be readers. A book can be well written, but not be one that people will read. I want my books to be read. I think that’s what most writers want – they want people to read their work, relate to it, feel something about the work. The only way to know that prior to publishing is to test it with a diverse audience. 

For more on Ciku and her work, visit http://www.thekenyanexplorer.com

Interview by Tiah Beautement a.k.a @ms_tiahmarie

'I believe short fiction is its own art.' An interview with Nick Mulgrew.

Nick Mulgrew's debut collection, Stations, contains fourteen subtly interlinked tales set along the Southern African coastline from Cape Town to Mozambique, in which relationships, dreams and even narrators die; where fields catch fire, towers implode, and the shadows of the past grow long.  He spoke to SSDA about how he collects the all the parts of living into the mess of life.

Congratulations on the publication of Stations. Speak to us about the evolution of writing individual short stories to 'I'm going to make an anthology'?

NICK: The overall concept of this collection had been in the back of my mind since I started writing my first stories. I believe short fiction is its own art, and I think collections of short fiction should be treated better – and conceived of better – than the usual assemblage of discrete stories released by novelists between novels. (In other words, the way they usually are.)

In bringing the collection together I had to think about the collections I have enjoyed most and have impacted most upon me, and try to figure out their architecture. So, books like Lorrie Moore’s Bark, Njabulo Ndebele’s Fools, Ron Currie Jr.’s God is Dead – I looked very closely at their structures, at what makes them so coherent and immersive.

Although it doesn’t say this on the packaging, Stations is a fourteen-story suite with each story loosely corresponding to one of the Stations of the Cross, as they are rendered in Catholic mythology. The stories share themes, settings and even characters: they all intersect, although sometimes I will be the only one who sees where and how they do. I think – or hope, at least – that this makes the collection more coherent and more interesting; that it can veer off in wild, strange directions, but always return to a thematic heart.

I did notice the Catholic undertone. However, I thought the biggest thread running through the collection was that your characters tended to be sensitive souls who meant well but 'meaning well' was not enough. Flawed people who cause hurt, insult or harm to others – perhaps even contributing to greater social problems – all while trying to live their lives the only way they know how. Was that intentional?

NICK: My characters do bad and sometimes terrible things – but crucially, they don't look or act like bad or terrible people. That's the insidious thing about human beings as moral agents: one does not have to be intentionally bad to do bad things. A lot of my characters would probably think they're perfectly good people, but they're otherwise complacent or ignorant, and sometimes that's all you need to – for example – re-entrench racism or sexism in your small corner of the universe.

To bring up Catholicism again: that's the point of Sin, right? Everyone – even "good people" – are sinners. Sin is what humans do. 

Some of the stories in Stations were written seven years ago. What was it like having to revisit these to bring them up to the level of Nick-of-now, rather than Nick-of-then?

NICK: The truth is that I'm always to some degree dissatisfied with my writing. But it was surprisingly enjoyable to revisit some of the older stories and feel as though I had improved; to take the germ of those early drafts and make something new out of them. I wrote the first draft of "Appreciation" when I was 17, and "Stars" when I was 20. They're utterly different stories now, I'm relieved to say: there was a lot of bringing them up to the right level, as you put it. The main thing that has changed is that I'm more cautious of gimmicks and glibness; of being seen to be clever or cool or aloof. Young writers love to be seen like they don't care very much about their characters or their actions or their universe. I've had to learn to be vulnerable. 

You are involved in so many projects, all of which come with their own job descriptions. Which do you identify with the most?

NICK: I'm a mess, first and foremost. I've tried to list all the different jobs I do and part-do – fiction writer, poetry writer, journalist, print designer, typesetter, beer critic, restaurant critic, magazine editor, publisher, Masters student, NGO deputy chair – but it feels like I'm bragging, when the truth is that they're all bit parts. Bit parts I care about and give my all to, and things I want to be successful at doing, things I love to do and give me fulfillment – but bit parts nonetheless. That's the condition of the globalised millenial, if I may use so awful a term: most young people have to do a multitude of things, either to get by, or to feel fulfilled in their lives and careers. I'm never bored, but it isn't great for your sense of self.

To answer your question, though? I suppose if I'm at a party and someone asks me what I do, I say I'm a writer. Strangers look at me oddly: maybe they don't think writers are real, or are a relic of an older time, like a gramophone repairman or a chimney-sweep. But that's what I've grown to be comfortable with.

Hey, vinyl made a comeback.

NICK: Indeed – and I do love my vinyl, especially old Dave Brubeck records.

In all seriousness, is there an idea of where you'd like to see your writing grow into the future? Or are you taking it one word at a time?

NICK: I’m looking forward to enjoying my career, and that means not having expectations about where I’d like to be and what I’d like to write. 

That said, I do have two projects that I’d like to see completed soon. I am halfway through a second suite of stories, which is loosely about people who fall through safety nets – both emotional and institutional – and am about to start work on a novel set between the KwaZulu-Natal coast and the North Island of New Zealand. That one is about white flight, and, if I do it right, should make a lot of people very sad. Not upset. Not outraged. Just sad.

Lastly, as a member of SSDA team, what do you envision for SSDA in the future? 

NICK: SSDA has everything it needs – an efficient team, great supporters and sufficient momentum – to become a leading publisher of short fiction from the continent. We’re already doing well: the annual SSDA anthologies are already some of the better – if not the best – collections of short fiction from Africa out there. Similarly, I want the SSDA Prize to become the most prestigious prize for short fiction on the continent, and I believe it’s getting there.

All of this, of course, is in the support of our main goal: to support writers from Africa, to help them improve their writing and their careers, and, through collaboration and hard, thoughtful work, to help put right the neglect that has been done to our literature.

On Nick's Beside Table

For work: lots of poetry manuscripts, and a lot of AIDS memoirs for the purposes of my MA: Edwin Cameron, Adam Levin, and so on.

For pleasure: I’m re-reading Ivan Vladislavic’s novel Double Negative right now, having just finished Bruce Chatwin’s Utz for the third time and Phaswane Mpe’s Welcome to Our Hillbrow for a second. I’m looking forward to getting into Marlon James’ A Brief History of Seven Killings when I get the time.

Nick Mulgrew was born in Durban to British parents in 1990. He studied English and Journalism at Rhodes University, and later at the University of Cape Town, at which he was a 2015 Mandela Rhodes Scholar in residence.

Among other accolades, he is the 2014 winner of the National Arts Festival Short Sharp Stories Award, and a 2015 shortlistee for the White Review Prize in the U.K. and Ireland.

Most recently, he is the author of the poetry collection, the myth of this is that we’re all in this together, and the co-editor (with Karina Szczurek) of Water: New Short Fiction from Africa.

Raised in uMhlanga and Auckland, Nick lives in Cape Town. nickmulgrew.co.za

Interview by Tiah Beautement a.k.a @ms_tiahmarie 

'A woman disappears each day.' An interview with #WriterPrompt winner Kerry Hammerton.

Restricted Area

I lick away the blood from the gash on my hand, press harder against the barbed wire fence. Blood. Pain. They help me feel alive. Every day I stand here, stare at the abandoned house. I turn and look over the camp. Smuts is under the awning of his command tent. His head turning this way and that way looking for something. Or someone.

'You would like to go there wouldn't you,' Smuts says when he catches us looking at the house. 'Don't be stupid, you go there you die. You go past the barbed wire fence you die.'

A woman disappears each day. I don't know if anyone else has noticed -- lethargy has descended. I know the heat is overwhelming but they must be drugging us, keeping us docile until they take us somewhere else.

When I asked Smuts why there are only women in the camp, he said 'Don't be stupid, all the men are fighting'. You should be fighting too, we all should be fighting I wanted to say. Fear kept me quiet.

Smuts has found what he is looking for. He gets to his feet, lumbers across the dusty field towards me.

Kerry Hammerton has published two volumes of poetry, These Are the Lies I Told You and The Weather Report, and has had poems published in numerous anthologies and magazines. She participated in and won SSDA's 8th #WriterPrompt Event, Restricted Area.

In 2015 you spearheaded a social media project under the hashtags #readwomen #womenwriters. Can you tell our followers about the project and why you did it?

KERRY: I wanted to do something positive in Women’s Month [August is Women's Month in South Africa] and I love reading and writing. The two things combined in a project where I asked women writers (mainly South African) to recommend a book by another woman writer. I blogged and tweeted these posts almost daily – I had 28 recommendations. I hoped that it would inspire people to read more women writers. My own to-read list has also been extended! The idea was picked up by the Good Book Appreciation Society (a Facebook book club) for their October newsletter – it has had a longer life than just August which is wonderful. 

Having your poems published opens a poet up to a certain amount of exposure and vulnerability. With poetry, there is an unpeeling of the inner self that goes beyond what fiction writers generally experience. How did you deal with the scrutiny of your inner self?

KERRY: Before my first collection was published I spent a lot of time in my therapist’s office feeling anxious about that exposure – particularly because I write some erotic poetry. After my collection was published I realised that the people who know and care about me know that inner-self anyway. They are the people who matter. What I write (even though it is poetry) is just words and in no way defines who I am, or even who I want to be. Once a poem is ‘out there’ it no longer belongs to the poet and people will interpret it according to their own inner selves and moral code. That has nothing to do with me – this has been very liberating.

You also co-authored Sugar Free, a non-fiction book about sugar addiction. Why was writing a non-fiction book about sugar important to you?

KERRY: I am a sugar and carb addict. Through my own journey to health I learnt a number of important things about my own eating disorder. I also learnt a number of important tools and techniques to deal with my addiction. I wanted to share those with other people. I met Karen Thomson (co-author) through her sugar and carb addiction programme and suggested to her that we write a book. One of the readers wrote to us and said ‘Thank you. I realise for the first time that I am a sugar addict. I didn’t understand my own behaviour. I thought that I was alone.’ That was really powerful. The book has given individuals the language to talk about their addiction as well as ideas on how to deal with it.

What drew you to participating in #WriterPrompt?

KERRY: I am currently completing an MA in Creative Writing through Rhodes University in Grahamstown. The first part of the MA is devoted to course work – we  wrote short stories, essays, drama, book reviews etc. It helped me to understand that I can successfully write genres other than poetry and non-fiction. The #WriterPrompt looked like a fun way to extend my writing repertoire. The 200 word limit is very constraining but makes you think about how to get a story across in as few words as possible. The idea of getting feedback was also attractive.

Lastly, what are your future writing goals and hopes?

KERRY: I am currently completing my MA thesis – a collection of poetry. I also have a few other ideas meandering around in my head but they will have to restrain themselves until the thesis is complete. I would like to go on a writers retreat / residency sometime in the next two years. To have dedicated writing time and the luxury of support sounds like heaven!

On Kerry's Bedside Table

Faces in the Crowd by Valeria Luiselli. One of the books recommended during the August #ReadWomen initiative. A story about a women writer living in Mexico who reflects back on her life in New York when she was single and childless. It also reveals her obsession with another poet. It is a spare, delightful and complex read.

Word Warriors: 35 Women Leaders in the Spoken Word Revolution edited by Alix Olson. If you want to understand what women (and who the women are) in the hip-hop and spoken word field are writing this is the collection to read. It is funny, feminist and very insightful.

My non-fiction read has been Masha Gessin’s The Man Without a Face: The Unlikely Rise of Vladimir Putin. A scary look at how Russia started on the path of democracy and how it was destroyed by Putin. Sobering. It has made me very thankful for the democratic and judicial processes in South Africa.

Kerry Hammerton lives in Cape Town, South Africa. She has published poetry in various South African and UK literary journals and anthologies, most recently Hallelujah for 50ft Women (Bloodaxe Books 2015). Her debut poetry collection These are the lies I told you (Modjaji) was published in 2010 and her second collection The Weather Report in 2014. She is also the co-author of the self-help book Sugar Free (Jonathan Ball 2015). www.kerryhammerton.com

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Interview by Tiah Beautement