I consider myself West African, among other cultural identities, and a writer, among other creative ones.

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

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

As a novelist, I ask of myself only that I tell the truth and that I tell it beautifully.

The writer presents himself to the blank page not with an open passport but an open heart.

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

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.