I was four when I announced my ambition to write, eight when I began publishing such claims.

How can I come from a nation? How can a human being come from a concept?

I've written fiction for as long as I can remember; it's always been my preferred form of play.

As a writer, one is obliged to release her words, to let them live in the world on their own.

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.

I write essays to clear my mind. I write fiction to open my heart.

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.