Sometimes you just have to pick up your artwork and shove it in peoples’ face for them to finally recognise your incredible talent. At least, that’s the way Ayesha likes to see it. It’s been a gruelling three weeks of dragging her four-by-three modern rendition of The Last Supper featuring prominent, world-recognised celebrities. It’s part of a […]Read More A Little Fine Art And Magic
Why do all our stories look the same? Let me start from the beginning. At this point in my writing career, writing African fiction has evolved from a far-off idea to my very present reality. I’ll have another blogpost up in the near future detailing where I’m currently at in my writing. This post, however, […]Read More Genre Outliers: Is African Fiction Linear?
Vusi sat with his head resting in the palm of his hand, watching with little enthusiasm as the leaders of the village argued before his father over what to do with the destruction of the jungle around them. He’d been the one to stumble upon it, fishing where the river flowed perilously. It was dangerous […]Read More The Temple Of The Skull
Pedro the monkey is missing. I don’t mind, to be honest. He’s gnarly and wrinkled, his brown fur turned white long ago, and he’s gotten clumsy with age. He still thinks he’s as young and innocent as he was when I was a child, but really, he causes a mess and a ruckus wherever he […]Read More Atani And The Monkey
The musty, nose-scratching smell of dust and old age always lingers around O’Hagens. It doesn’t matter if someone’s just swept and mopped the whole place, searching for and ridding every nook and cranny of cobwebs and dustballs. The smell stays, as if it has permeated the old brick walls and sunk into the faded velvet […]Read More What You Wish For
I open the trunk, gasp, and close it again. “Come on, Neo, it’s not funny. Open the trunk,” Anne-Marie says, green plastic bags pulling her arms downwards. Her eyes are squinted, her best effort at blocking the glare of the sun. “I can’t,” I whisper, my eyes staring at the trunk. “What?” Anne-Marie lowers the […]Read More Down At The Car Park
Everything was fine until Mma Leone died. And it’s not so much about how she died, but when she died. If someone dies in the hood, they die. It’s an event that starts as a tragedy but evolves into a celebration of life, the kind that goes late into the night until no one who’s left […]Read More No More Handshakes
Well, that’s an inspiring post title, isn’t it? I’m here once again, because it’s easier to report on my writing journey than it is to write a new fictional piece. This time, I’m debating whether or not I want to continue my third Wattpad story. I don’t know, colour me unimpressed and way too unmotivated to […]Read More If At First You Don’t Succeed, Delete, Delete, Delete?
I’ll be honest with you guys, this writing thing gets tiring. I’m in the middle of writing an entry for this competition on Wattpad, and it’s more in line with the kind of content my blog followers know me for, so I might actually give you guys a direct link to that. It’s a novella, […]Read More Here, Have Some Short Stories
I’ve just started uploading chapters to my new Wattpad story. And I came here, because I wanted to say some things about how this makes me feel. First and foremost, I’m nervous as hell. Like, stomach-in-knots nervous. I mentioned in my previous post that it would have been better if the first story wasn’t so […]Read More The Second Time Around