Being a twin, and being my sister's twin, is such a defining part of my life that I wouldn't know how to be who I am, including a writer, without that being somehow at the centre.

Being a twin, and being my sister's twin, is such a defining part of my life that I wouldn't know how to be who I am, including a writer, without that being somehow at the centre.

I read recently that the problem with stereotypes isn't that they are inaccurate, but that they're incomplete. And this captures perfectly what I think about contemporary African literature. The problem isn't that it's inaccurate, it's that it's incomplete.

So often, literature about African people is conflated with literature about African politics, as if the state were somehow of greater import or interest than the individual.

When writing screenplays, it's a matter of remembering to leave off the page anything and everything that doesn't appear on the screen.

I wouldn't mind my book being called an African novel if it didn't invite lazy readings.

The summer I finished my first novel Ghana Must Go, I drove across west Africa: from Accra to Lomé to Cotonou to the deliciously named Ouagadougou.