Award-winning novelist, short-story writer, playwright and screenwriter, Sefi Atta is well known in the literary and academic space. Atta, who recently turned 60 and celebrated three decades as a writer, said she is revisiting previously explored themes in her new works. Her novel, ‘Swallow’, was one of the three original feature films adapted for the screen by Nigerian filmmaker, Kunle Afolayan, for Netflix. In this interview with TOBI AWODIPE, she speaks on her literary journey, the country’s literary space and why her background and experiences will continue to shape her works.

Almost three decades as a full-time author is remarkable. How would you describe this journey so far?
It’s been incredible. I never dreamt I would have a job I couldn’t wait to start every morning and I’m immensely grateful for the journey because in my previous career as an accountant, I saw my job as work and nothing more.I didn’t plan to be a writer. I graduated from the University of Birmingham, England, with a business degree in 1985. Then I spent six months of my National Youth Service year working at the Nigerian Stock Exchange in Lagos and another six months teaching English at Ireti Grammar School in Ikoyi. Following that, I worked for Nigeria International Bank for a year, before returning to England to train as a Chartered Accountant. I qualified in 1991, got married the following year and in 1994, my husband, Gboyega Ransome-Kuti, and I moved to the United States. That same year, a few weeks after our daughter was born, I sat the exams to qualify as a Certified Public Accountant and worked in New York and New Jersey. Three years later, we moved to Mississippi and I was out of work for the first time in my adult life. In New York, I had been a member of a weekend writers’ workshop and wrote part time, sometimes while feeding my daughter – crazy but true. I began to write full time in Mississippi when she was a toddler. I went back to school to study for a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing through an online programme run by Antioch University in Los Angeles and graduated in 2001. My work life has been wonderful ever since.

Would you say Nigeria’s literary space has evolved since you started writing and if so, how?
Definitely! In 2004, when I published my first novel, Everything Good Will Come, there was only a handful of us in the new generation of Nigerian writers. I remember having to tell my literary agent in New York where Nigeria was. She said one of the partners, an Englishman and lawyer, who was apparently well-travelled, didn’t know anything about Lagos. I laughed to myself, knowing he would soon find out. Now we have many writers of Nigerian descent, publishing stories set in countries all over the world.

You have in the past expressed displeasure at how the country’s creative space is being run. Has this changed in any way?
I am concerned about copyright infringements, unethical practices, funding and interlopers in the arts and culture sector. My works have been used without my permission and it is laughable that people who have done so are upset with me for stopping them. My books have been pirated as well. I once attended a company-organised event and discovered that every single copy of my novel there was fake. Luckily, the company was kind enough to order the same number of copies from me afterwards. Soliciting funds for projects has always been an ordeal. I found it so humiliating that I began to fund my projects myself, rather than justify them to people who expected me to approach them with a marketing angle such as women’s rights or nation building. As for the interlopers, their thirst for money, power and visibility is insatiable and they will do anything to get what they want, sometimes at the expense of people in the sector who are financially vulnerable and easily exploited.

You constantly talk about integrity career-wise and generally speaking. Do you see this as a trait lacking in our creative space?
I may have complained about it before, but I’m bored with that now. It’s up to every creative to figure out who they are and how they want to proceed.

You turned 60 this month. What life lessons have you garnered on your journey so far?
Truth is freedom, happiness is contentment and love is supreme. There is a reason these principles recur in holy books. We have a challenging time living by them. All three have impacted me, truth as freedom more than the other two. Last year, I imagined what would happen if I spent my 60th birthday being completely honest with everyone and came to the conclusion that I would probably not make it to the next day alive.

In this season of your creativity, what themes would you like to further explore?
I will revisit themes I’ve explored before, such as religion, ethnicity, classism, feminism and race. I hope readers recognise that even though I’m grouped with the new generation of Nigerian writers, who write about the same themes, my perspective is different from theirs. My voice represents a generation I call oil boomers in my novel,A Bit of Difference. We were born in the 60s, came of age in the 70s and graduated into a recession and Structural Adjustment Programme in the 80s. We had to be practical in choosing our careers, and so we didn’t produce many writers. We appear in the works of the previous generation of Nigerian writers as children and in the works of the current generation as middle-aged parents, but they don’t delve into our stories, which are underrepresented in Nigerian literature.I also have a diverse background that makes me preoccupied with these themes.

My mother, Mrs. Iyabo Atta, is from Oyo State, though she was born and raised in Lagos. My late father, Abdul-Aziz Atta, is from Kogi State, though he studied in Ghana and England and lived briefly in the East before settling in Lagos. I set my stories in Lagos because I was born and raised here. I write about Yoruba women because my father died when I was eight years old and I’m more familiar with my mother’s culture. My mother’s parents were Christians and my father’s parents were Muslims. My narrators are often religious sceptics.

I write about classism because I am concerned about the economic divide in Nigeria. I write about feminism because for years I thought something was wrong with me until I realised that it wasn’t me but the society I was raised in, which was glaringly patriarchal. I grew up in a home where my mother was the head of the family and she was able to navigate that society skillfully. My approach was clumsier, but now that people are aware I’m a writer, they excuse me. I’m not happy with the way feminism is developing in Nigeria, though. I may be wrong, but it seems to be championed by self-serving women who want to have as much as self-serving men.

This is troubling for me because it is bound to increase the divide between privileged and disadvantaged women in the long run, and I don’t regard that as progress. We are beginning to see the result of being represented by women in government who apparently aspired to the lowest standards of their male peers, if indeed they are guilty of the charges against them. We should elect political candidates based on their principles and ideologies, not because they have XX or XY chromosomes. Lastly, I write about race because I’ve lived overseas for 37 years.

Do you have any forthcoming works?
I do, and I’m excited and nervous about them. I have two books, one of which returns to the characters of my first novel, Everything Good Will Come. Apart from the fact that it’s written in the third person, it is a dark interrogation of social reality, despite occasional satirical moments. I had the hardest time writing it. I needed to bring the characters up to date and there was nothing nostalgic about their experiences. Anyone who expects optimism isn’t going to find any, but it’s an honest account of where we are now. I also have plays and screenplays, but it’s trickier to get them produced so I’m keeping quiet until that happens.

Female friendships are a strong theme you regularly explore. Are readers going to see more of those in your latest works?
Yes. I explore female relationships in my next novel, which is about a young adult. Readers should also expect commentary on Lagos and its various societies in the sequel to Everything Good Will Come. It is less about the friendship between Enitan and Sheri and more about Enitan as she takes stock of her life after her 60th birthday.

After all these years, would you say you are satisfied career-wise, both as a novelist and as a playwright?
Absolutely. It’s been a joy and an honour, and I thank everyone who has supported me. I have had some unpleasant experiences, mostly involving individuals with whom I’ve since parted ways because I’m fiercely protective of my creative energy. I encountered tribalism in the Nigerian literary community and quickly dropped out of it. I won’t engage with mean-spirited people and I keep away from them while I’m working. I’d like to take the opportunity to thank them for giving me focus, though. I might have been inclined to spend time with them had they been friendlier.

Some quarters have described reading as a ‘dying culture’, especially among younger people. Is this something that worries you?
I’m not sure this is accurate. I think we just have more forms of mass media to consume and they compete with our reading time. For my parents, radio was a potential distraction. For my generation, television was and for my daughter it was the Internet, but we still read books. People have to read. I don’t see how they can get by without doing so. If you are specifically referring to literary works, more are being published and someone must be reading them.

Are you currently mentoring upcoming writers in any capacity?
I have taught creative writing workshops and I enjoy them. Now that I’m aiming to slow down, I would love to do that more. I don’t want to teach full time, but I’d certainly welcome opportunities to teach workshops occasionally.

If you were not doing what you currently do, what other area would you have thrived in?
I have no idea. I would have been thoroughly bored as an accountant, even though my experience in that profession gave me useful organisational skills. I would love to be in a position that’s beneficial to Nigerian arts and culture – but only if I get along with the people I work with. I avoided stressful groups before and I’m looking for harmonious ones now.