In her latest novel, Like Water Like Sea, Nigerian–German writer, Olumide Popoola, wanted to explore bipolar disorder and manic episodes: ‘I felt it was important to write about disruptive and sometimes public manic or psychotic episodes, both to raise awareness and to question why we claim to hold space but are not prepared to accept what falling apart entails.’
First Draft is our interview column, featuring authors and other prominent figures on books, reading, and writing.
Our questions are italicized.
What books or kinds of books did you read growing up?
I was reading everything I could get my hands on when I was growing up. I lived in a small village in West Germany from when I was seven until I was ten, and there wasn’t much to do as friends were scattered about and not close by. Stories filled my days. I discovered the world of imagination and delved as far and as deeply as I could. As a teenager, I finally found books that reflected my experiences more—books with Black characters, Black girls, and stories that resonated with me. Even though many of these books, such as Let the Circle Be Unbroken by Mildred D. Taylor, were set elsewhere and not in Germany where I lived, they still spoke to me. My early favourites were books by Alice Walker and Maya Angelou. I also got into poetry and fell in love with the works of Audre Lorde, June Jordan, and especially May Ayim. Ayim made me feel seen and ‘at home’, as in my experience as a Black girl in the Germany of that time was valid. A book that I devoured because it spoke to me a lot was Nervous Conditions by Tsitsi Dangarembga. I felt it deeply.
If your life so far was a series of texts, which text (fiction or non-fiction) represents you at this moment?
A poem that has shaped me and to which I return to over and over is June Jordan’s Poem about My Rights. There are so many elements that speak to me: the language, the word play, the politics, the anger, the rhythm, the melody, the delivery. There are other texts that are utterly important, but they change over time.
What’s the last thing you read and disagreed with?
A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara. I love the writing and admire Yanagihara’s incredible talent. The world in A Little Life is so rich and expansive, I fell right into it, completely immersed. I didn’t agree with a character who doesn’t change. I’m still amazed how she can write a world so rich and vast and sustain it over such a long period.
A book that I devoured because it spoke to me a lot was Nervous Conditions by Tsitsi Dangarembga.
What is your writing process: edit as you write or draft first, then edit?
I unearth along the way. I always start with a philosophical drive, or a question that is about the human condition. I have a rough idea of what I want to achieve, and I am usually clear where I want the protagonist to be, emotionally, at the end of the novel. However, I usually do not have a detailed plot outline. So, I edit along the way but also make notes for larger edits if a decision takes the novel to new and unexpected places. Then I have to go back and make sure everything works towards it.
What was your process for writing your debut novel, When We Speak of Nothing?
When We Speak of Nothing was my PhD project, which I wrote alongside a critical thesis. I spent a lot of time thinking through the themes and philosophical underpinnings. I spent a lot of time thinking about Esu, who is the narrator, and the concepts and motifs that come with the god of the crossroads. It has made it into the novel in a myriad of ways, from locations to language, to what we can see in a scene and even to the notion of gender itself. I wrote the novel in tandem with exploring theoretical and critical ideas around border-crossing.
How did your approach change in writing your latest novel, Like Water Like Sea?
A lot of Like Water Like Sea was written during lockdown, with my then young child playing on her tablet and a cacophony of sounds from children’s programmes, jingles from children’s games or the absolute silence that was early lockdown. Sometimes I ‘stole’ 200 words at a time, sometimes only a sentence, so I could keep connected to the text even though I could not find the time or space to write properly in those early lockdown months. When the schools opened again, I started co-working with my good friend and South African artist, Gabrielle Le Roux. We would meet on video chat and both work on our respective projects. Sometimes we would talk about things, other times we would simply say it was a good or not so good working day. The company and friendship immensely helped me transition out of lockdown.
I knew from the beginning that I would write different perspectives and set it in the present and in the past. But for the longest I didn’t know how Like Water Like Sea was going to end. One day I was working out the overlapping timelines and I had made a mistake about a particular detail, which was minor and probably not essential for the reader, but it led me to the conditional way of telling what happens in the future, in the third section of the book that reads ‘It would be like…’
This was exciting and unlocked the writing because it fitted so well with the overall notion of choice. I also played with the scenarios, making them overlap rather than having different options of endings that are separate from each other. If you read closely you can pick up several pieces of information of what happened in the ten years preceding the endings.
Like Water Like Sea is a poignant tale of self-discovery and resilience, sexuality and motherhood, and falling apart to become truly whole. What inspired this story?
I was interested in having to witness the falling apart of a person, the times when things become messy. The phrase ‘I’m going to hold space for you’ or ‘holding space’ has become very popular and I wondered what that actually meant. How do we hold someone’s space? How do we make space for them? How far are we willing to allow them to have space? And so on. While the novel on the surface is a lot about grief, for me it was more about the people having to witness the falling apart, and how they deal with it.
The other starting point was that I have people in my life who I love and who are bipolar. I wanted to write about manic episodes because of my loved ones. There has been more awareness about mental health, but I felt it is often about depression and anxiety, which are often suffered silently and tucked away from view. It’s important to write about it. I felt it was also important to write about disruptive and sometimes public manic or psychotic episodes, both to raise awareness and to question why we claim to hold space but are not prepared to accept what this falling apart entails. In Like Water Like Sea, we experience some of SuSu’s (the mother’s) manic moments, and how Nia (the protagonist) grapples with her feelings, which at times are also quite public.
And what’s one thing about the reactions to the book that has surprised you?
The book came out only a few days ago. The readers who have gotten in touch were moved, cried but ultimately felt that they were held and left with hope and options.
I usually do not have a detailed plot outline. So, I edit along the way but also make notes for larger edits if a decision takes the novel to new and unexpected places.
What is the most meaningful piece of writing advice you’ve ever received?
It wasn’t so much advice but an encouragement to follow my voice. It was from a writing teacher who was excited by my voice, and it helped me discover what I wanted to say and how.
And what advice can you give to young authors in Africa and the African Diaspora?
Find your people so you have a community of writers around you to support you through the writing and the publishing process—the public part of being a writer. Be honest with who you are as a writer early on and embrace it. If you’re a crime writer, you may never write great romance novels. You might be good at different genres or not, but it is important to accept who you are and develop there. That doesn’t mean you should avoid stepping out of your comfort zone, but you should focus your energy where your true writing desire lies.
You have a doctorate in creative writing and have lectured in several institutions. What book(s) do you typically recommend to aspiring/young writers?
It is entirely different depending on what course I’m teaching and what students are writing on. I try to find texts that respond to what people are writing, or to illustrate points that I want to empasize.
What book or text are you looking forward to reading this year?
I’m excited to read the following books this year: Irenosen Okojie’s new book Curandera. Okojie is a stunning and fearless writer with an exceptional imagination. These Letters End in Tears by Musih Tedji Xaviere, which is a debut novel and I’m excited to delve into it. I’m eagerly waiting for The Seers by Sulaiman Addonia, who is such an exceptionally talented and expansive writer.
I was interested in having to witness the falling apart of a person, the times when things become messy…While the novel on the surface is a lot about grief, for me it was more about the people having to witness the falling apart, and how they deal with it.
What are you currently working on?
I’m working on a new novel which is partly set in the afterlife. It is not as speculative as it sounds although I cannot vouch for any of the afterlife scenes to be accurate depictions. Among other themes, it explores the idea of what memory is and how we would measure its relevance.
Question from Nana Ekua Brew-Hammond: What did you have to let go of, or let in, to write your latest offering?
The notion of a neat ending!
Bonus: Please suggest a question for a future author’s First Draft
How do you fill your cup when you don’t feel like writing?
Who do you think we should interview next?
Sulaiman Addonia⎈
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