An Interview with Olusola Akinwale

NOVELTY FICTION – Both of your stories are haunted by absence – whether through abandonment in “The Ghost of His Disappearance” or through death in “A Journey to Her Final Home.” What draws you to explore the lingering power of absence, and how do you see it shaping the lives of your characters?

OLUSOLA AKINWALE – There is a void yearning to be filled in everyone’s life. There’s an absence in our existence – absence of peace, absence of hope, absence of freedom, absence of justice, absence of health, absence of money, absence of a lover, absence of a father figure, etc. Absence is powerful. It occupies a position so commanding in our lives that we constantly seek to fill it. Considering the aforementioned, I would say it comes naturally for me to explore the power of absence in my writing. Let me admit that I don’t think about themes when I begin drafting a work. I’m much more concerned about the structure of the work. But then it isn’t a coincidence that the theme appears in the two works, which I wrote three years apart. Perhaps, absence is my main thematic preoccupation, which I hadn’t reckoned with all the while. I can now assert that absence is a thematic fingerprint you’d notice across my fictions. Thank you for helping me to recognize it (LOL).

For my characters, absence isn’t just a gap or void. It is a force – quiet but compelling. It haunts them and influences their emotions, silences, choices, yearnings, actions, and turmoil. For Abbey, absence is her inheritance. For Edward, absence echoes persistently in his life, having suffered mortality of two wives. Their lives are shaped by what they have lost and are defined by how they navigate life without it. Thus, absence reveals their traits.

For the three men in Marvy’s life, absence through her death serves as their silent judge. They find themselves in its courtroom as they journey to Badagry to bury her. My characters don’t move on with their absence. They move with it. I call it “Absence as Presence.”

NOVELTY FICTION – Abbey and Marvy, though very different, are both women whose voices are muted or mediated by others – Abbey by her silence around trauma, Marvy by the men who narrate her life after death. How intentional was this exploration of women’s agency and silence, and what did you hope readers would take from it?

OLUSOLA AKINWALE – I’ve always been fascinated by the concept of “agency.” People should be allowed to live their lives as long as they don’t constitute nuisance or menace to the society. I live in a heteronormative society where it’s popular to design and give people a template of the life they should live. We grow up with “burdens of expectation.” The burden is much more on women. The society has defined their existence – how they should live, what they should wear, when they should speak, when they should get married, when they shouldn’t be outside their homes. Consequently, I was (am) intentional about the exploration of women’s agency in my works. I write about women who to a large extent still have a hold on their lives. I don’t think it’s absurd to have them see their agency challenged or voice muted along the way. It’s part of the conflict in the narrative. In fact, the society keeps challenging their agency and attempting to mute their voice.

Marvy lost her agency and voice in her first marriage. She was very young and naïve when she got married to Sanya, her first husband, who maltreated her. Her second marriage was different. The agency she lost in her first marriage, she regained in her second. In fact, she proposed to Edward, her second husband. Her economic power gave her the upper hand in the second marriage. She died a woman of substance, a woman in control of her life, and a woman whom the men around her depended on for survival.

As for Abbey – I think to some extent, she retained the power of her choice despite her trauma. The decision to honor or stand down a date was still within her. She didn’t give in to external pressure. She seemed to relish her trauma. Perhaps because it didn’t affect other areas of her life. She might eventually decide to give love a chance.

I hope readers, especially those in heteronormative societies, will acknowledge women’s agency. Women’s rights – economic, sexual, reproductive – shouldn’t be trampled upon. They should be allowed to design and wear the template of their own lives. Agency trumps traditionalism.

NOVELTY FICTION – Your stories balance psychological intimacy with social detail – Abbey’s immigrant solitude in the UK, and Edward and AY’s grief against the backdrop of Nigeria’s economic struggles. How important is it for you to situate personal stories within broader cultural or social contexts?

OLUSOLA AKINWALE – Our environment influences our lives; it impacts on our mindset, attitude, belief, and interactions. We tend to make decisions or take actions based on how certain socio-economic and cultural factors affect us. As we know, fiction replicates life. The characters in our stories reflect people we come across every day. These characters also make decisions based on how the environment a writer puts them in has conditioned them. In addition, when we talk about setting in fiction, it goes beyond the physical. It encompasses social, economic, and cultural settings. Therefore, for authenticity, it’s important to situate stories not only within the physical setting but also cultural and social settings. It helps readers, especially the ones who are familiar with the social and cultural settings, to connect deeply with the story. Likewise, it gives readers from other parts of the world opportunity to learn about the mindset, attitude, and idiosyncrasies that pervade other societies.

NOVELTY FICTION – Neither story offers a neat resolution: Abbey retreats into fantasy rather than finding love, and Edward, Sanya, and AY leave Marvy’s funeral more divided than united. Why was it important for you to resist closure or redemption in these narratives?

OLUSOLA AKINWALE – First, let me ask a few questions. Is there a closure in life? Can we ever get answers to all our questions? Can we ever access all our heart desires? When a need is met, it creates further needs. When you get an answer to a question, it raises another question. We can’t achieve closure or redemption in all areas of our lives. We’ll not get solutions to all our problems – physical or emotional. We can only learn to navigate life with these challenges.

Second, I could be in love with my narrative – its structure, setting, pacing, and imagery – but I don’t fall in love with my characters. When you fall in love with your characters, you might become sentimental about them. Once that happens, you’ll fall into the temptation of solving their problems. I don’t write to solve all the problems I have created for my characters. It isn’t my responsibility (LOL). Mind you, God doesn’t provide answers to all our questions. That’s for those of us who believe in His existence. Even with the solidity of our prayers and faith in Him, He doesn’t solve all our problems.

Moreover, I resist closure in order for readers to decide or imagine what might happen afterward. For example, they might ponder, “Would Abbey ever find love? Would she seek therapy?” “Would the men in Marvy’s life be sober and introspective enough to admit that they all took advantage of her and that despite their wrongs, she loved them? Would they seek each other’s forgiveness? How would they manage her estate?”

NOVELTY FICTION – Both stories use strong symbols – the ravens, autumn leaves, and “Ben” in Abbey’s story; the casket, hearse, and funeral rites in Marvy’s. Could you talk about how you approach symbolism in your writing, and what role imagery plays in carrying emotional weight?

OLUSOLA AKINWALE – Oh, Ben! Abbey’s secret pleasure. I’d even forgotten about him. I’ve always been drawn to stories with good imagery and symbolism. It, therefore, behooves me to enrich my stories with beautiful symbol and imagery. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. I say imagery or a symbol is more powerful in conveying information about a character’s emotion than a thousand words. A smell, sound or color, for instance, could trigger grief in a character. I’ve used symbols to show a character’s past without verging into info dump. Each time the symbol appears in the story, readers understand that the character’s past has come back to haunt him. Symbolism is also a good means of foreshadowing in a story. I’ve used symbols to convey subtexts in my stories. I’m a lover of subtexts in dialogue and in the main narrative.

In my first draft, I don’t strive for symbolism and imagery. But if it comes randomly, I add it to the WIP. When I’m rewriting or editing, I begin to look for places where I could use symbols and imagery to add depth to the story. Images and symbols connote different things to different people. For example, a red color may mean something different to a medical doctor and an engineer. Therefore, I ensure that the symbol and imagery I use suit the character’s psyche at a given point.

NOVELTY FICTION – Looking at these stories side by side, one about the search for love and the other about the aftermath of death, they seem to speak to each other as companion pieces. Do you see them as part of a larger thematic project in your work – perhaps an exploration of how we confront loss, whether through abandonment or mortality?

OLUSOLA AKINWALE – Loss is a theme that unites all my stories. From “Falling Leaf,” “A Journey to Her Final Home,” “Something Lagos, Something Troubling,” “The Ghost of His Disappearance,” to “Cecilia Walker,” which I’m currently working on. In the first three stories I mentioned, the characters suffered loss through mortality. In The Ghost of His Disappearance, Abbey suffered loss through abandonment. In Cecilia Walker, the octogenarian character suffered loss through both abandonment and mortality. These stories and five others constitute a short story collection that is yet to find a home. My full-length work is also about exploration of loss, exile, and displacement and how we confront them.

Nobody is immune to loss. Mortality is a loss that everyone will suffer. I’ve recently suffered one. By the way, there is no fiction that doesn’t touch on loss, though it may not be the main thematic exploration of the author.

NOVELTY FICTION – Here in late summer 2025, what is life and writing like for you?

OLUSOLA AKINWALE – I’ve recently regained my writing libido, which I lost when my father died four months ago in a fatal accident in Nigeria. He’d visited me in Lagos, and was on his way back to Ibadan when their car somersaulted. His sudden death had taken away my enthusiasm for writing. However, I’m back to slaving with words. As I’ve mentioned earlier, I’m working on a story about an 82-year-old widow, Cecilia Walker, estranged from her daughters and navigating the quiet loneliness of her final years. I might send the piece to Novelty Fiction for publication. I’ve been applying for writing fellowships in Europe. This is me making preparation for 2026. I hope I will earn a place in at least one of the residencies.

Writing keeps me sane, saves me from depression. I love that writing makes me the Creator. I derive pleasure in forming lives on the pages, setting landscapes and boundaries, determining who gets this and that. Joy fills me when I see my craft developing or seeing a work progressing. Of course, I’ve met discouragements along the way. People have ridiculed me for writing when it isn’t earning me money. In my society, the main indicator of success is making money. They say I’m wasting my time. The messages are often subtle.

Nevertheless, I keep pressing toward the mark. In famine and in surplus, I write. I’m a Christian, but let me be bold to say that writing has taught me many more lessons in patience and perseverance than I’ve learned from all my years of listening to sermons in church. There’s no shortcut to becoming a great fiction writer. You have to improve your command of SPAG (spelling, punctuation, and grammar). You have to understand p.o.v. and perspective. A sentence may be grammatically correct, but technically wrong in fiction. For example, when there’s a sudden shift in the p.o.v. No measure of anointing or prayers will fix that for you. You have to learn the craft and master the art. But then you have to be patient. You have to persevere as you submit your works and receive rejection notes. Every writer is one short story or novel away from their breakthrough.

Permit me to digress a bit. Novelty Fiction and their editor have been instrumental to the development of my craft. I’ve been blessed by the kindness and prayers of several people, but as far as my writing is concerned, no one else has offered me as much support as Novelty Fiction and Morten Rand have done. Thank you.

I hope to finish a full-length fiction in 2026. I’m hoping that the next phase of my writing will be more productive and rewarding. I’m still looking forward to bagging that book deal and winning that major award.

Final words to readers:
As authors, we learn and write to satisfy the literary hunger of readers. I implore them to keep buying and reading our works to encourage us. When they read our stories, they should drop reviews on Amazon and other platforms for the works to gain traction for more sales.

© 2025 by Novelty Fiction.

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