AFRICAN FUTURISM, STARTING OUT LATE IN LIFE, AND CREATING AN AFROCENTRIC UNIVERSE
A conversation with this month’s Tonsé Short Story Bookclub author Stephen Embleton
I really, really enjoyed not just this conversation with author Stephen Embleton but our entire interaction. Read everything he writes! But read this first.
Stephen is an author of African Futurism, and a co-creator of the Sauútiverse. We covered a lot; genre definitions, creating our own universes, the merits of African editors, and much more. As always, I believe much of what we discussed relates to many forms of storytelling, after all he is a visual artist as well as a writer.
His short story “Of Robots and War” is this months Book Club pick.
Mwanabibi: As an African Speculative Fiction writer there’s always a lot of back and forth about genre definitions. We’ll write horror and someone will say it’s fantasy because it has a ng’anga or a sangoma. We can’t just write Sci-Fi, it has to be Afro or African Futurism. How do you define your work and what do you think are the practical implications of genre definitions? Does this opinion impact your craft in any way?
Stephen: My feeling is we can and do write anything we are inspired to, but because we generally centre our stories on ourselves (which is wonderful!) – through character, location, traditional beliefs – our stories are categorized as such. This is a good thing, in writing stories for ourselves rather than an outside audience (e.g., to the west).
Should we write stories set off-world, with non-African characters or themes, then they may be seen as “just Sci-Fi”. But who wants that?! If I know something is AfricanFuturism, I will seek it out and read it for a number of reasons: first, it will have many things I can relate to, from themes to beliefs; second, it will have a different worldview to most other SF from the west; third, by engaging with these works, the more we support them, the more we can create them, and get paid to create them.
As an example, the world of Sauúti is Afrocentric in its themes and points of view, and world building – not Earth related – but it is definitely AfricanFuturism. And we are creating on our terms.
Genres are interesting and problematic at the same time, and it’s important we provide the labels we want for our works – one of the reasons Nnedi Okorafor’s AfricanFuturism definition is important.
If we don’t categorise our own work then others – with less understanding – will do it.
Things like the horror example, it’s important we also understand where our themes and traditional beliefs fit in (or not). Izangoma practices and stories which delve into those realms can straddle magical realism, fantasy and in darker ways dark fantasy (not horror), as well as horror. Consider how any aspects of daily life can quickly more into these areas through a chance encounter, a dramatic event, or horrific experience.
I wouldn’t say the genre definitions impact my craft because the story dictates what it will be. Once I’m done, only then will I know what it is – and it can cross multiple genres. And then that form dictates where I submit it to – and who will pay or not!
Part of my research for the University of Oxford (and even long before) was demonstrating how many of the classic African works crossed multiple genres, and a “literary” work featured magical realism or fantasy elements. Yet, you wouldn’t classify them in those pigeonholes outright. Our stories contain all of these elements, seamlessly, because that is our worldview. These are the things we live with every day, not a made-up fantasy world.
You have a background in graphic design and film. You create book covers among other forms of art, and your writing is very evocative, character is place as well as people. In what ways do the different forms of storytelling feed into each other for you?
I am really blessed to have abilities in these art forms, where I previously only thought I was a visual artist, and coming to writing later than most was a revelation that I can “paint” with words – sometimes easier that a visual. Writing for film helped me understand story structure and pacing.
For me, day to day, I am able to engage in something depending on what medium an idea develops in. I’ve just had a visual image, something I started sketching to develop into an illustration now turning into an idea for a short story. You never know. Sometimes I know I can write something better than I can illustrate it. And sometimes, a few lines of a poem can have more impact than pages and pages of text.
Could you say a little bit more about coming late to the craft? Often the publishing world can romanticize the idea of young debutants. Competitions tend to put out calls for (very) young) writers. What sort of stories do you think we might be missing out on as a result of this?
I began writing in earnest in 2006 – I was 32 – and only first published in 2015 at 41 (Imagine Africa 500, in Malawi). On the flip side, I had received international recognition early on in my design career, in my early twenties.
I’ll use awards as an example. I know very well how recognition and awards can boost your self-image, but they do not assist you to create meaningful work. It can also negatively shape how you approach your creations. A world-famous calligrapher and designer, Gerhard Schwekendiek, when I interviewed him for my thesis, told me this, years before I earned any awards.
Aiming for that recognition, putting pressure on myself to be young and successful would have stifled anything I attempted. I just wanted to push myself creatively. Seeing how many people aimed for recognition was one reason I stepped away from that world.
Full creativity comes through doing the work, from and for yourself, pushing your abilities, rather than chasing recognition. Being acknowledged by your peers (judging panels) has great value, but it’s important to find those peers out in the real world, to share with, collaborate with, and support rather than using awards as your gauge of success or validation. The same goes with readers: reader feedback is lovely, even negative feedback given in the right way, is beneficial.
Young people do need encouragement, to know they have avenues to express themselves, so I support those initiatives that do this. I also like the idea of supporting “new” writers (no matter the age), who have no back catalogue, portfolio or published works giving them access, who want to join in.
I’m not sure how my writing would have been earlier on in my life – I have snippets of ideas, life thoughts etc. But the one thing I have to draw on is my lived experience all along my journey to be able to write what I was feeling at that time, whether it’s ten-year-old me, or twenty-year-old me. There is no “missing out”. You write when you’re ready and have something to say.
You are currently a part of the Sauúti Collective. What have you found to be the benefit of collaborative storytelling beyond the commercial considerations?
The Sauútiverse is a collectively created science-fantasy world by Africans, for Africans (creators), based on Afrocentric themes, languages and beliefs. Created in 2022, with its first anthology published in 2023 (and single stories published individually), it is open for African and African diaspora individuals to create in this unique world. The beauty of the world we created is it works for Sci-Fi and fantasy stories.
The benefits, for me as a writer? Support. Not feeling alone in my writing, and I’m not just talking about Sauúti writing, I mean any of my writing. There are other creators that have the same ups and downs, frustrations and joys in publishing, rejections and acceptances!
Collaboration. Everyone has something to contribute. Some have areas of interest that others don’t and can assist with those subjects (e.g. very science, technical details) which the lone writer would have to research to some extent. And the collaboration means brainstorming ideas, building on others’ ideas, and even other stories prompting and inspiring more ideas.
And with that collaboration comes world building like no other I have experienced as that lone writer. The vast cultural experiences we all have from across the continent, our folklore, beliefs and languages, all provide a rich resource.
This goes back to the previous point about us writing for us. We have only seen the tip of the iceberg of African literature in all its magic. We cannot be scared to write about ourselves because it may not sell internationally. Yes, we have to eke out a living, but the story, the idea, comes first. I believe international audiences will begin to seek these out as we bring a new richness to literature as a whole.
Is there something specific about the world you created that illustrates how unique it is as a result of the collaboration?
Using our own languages as inspiration, we played with words and phrases we know and understand, and because sound plays a key part in the world’s magic, we used audio concepts like repetition (echo), reversal (in-breath and backward) of words or portions. This created the ancient lost language of Sauúti, which when you read snippets appears familiar yet fantastical. This language is only partial, because it is from the original ancestors of the worlds, and allows for a rich world for the writer to create their own and use words others have created in here.
The mythology and cosmology, vital in all African cultures, was an opportunity to look to those African societies with matriarchal structures and reverence, and building on that idea from the ground up – the beginning of Sauúti time. This weaves effortlessly into many of the stories.
Finally, the storytelling itself: the oral traditions, music and sound, and communication of histories and beliefs spoken over centuries has always been key to cohesive societies. Communal and sacred rites. What better way to exemplify this as sound, and the spoken word, as the magic system.
There is currently a debate raging in the literary community about the merits of publishing (short stories and poetry). The question is prestige vs volume.
As African writers I feel we are in a unique bubble. You are a member of the African Speculative Fiction Society (ASFS), and you choose to publish with African literary magazines as well as international publications. How instrumental is the African literary community to your craft? Should we be looking inwards or cast our nets wide?
Both approaches are needed. First, and most importantly, we have local publications and journals publishing our works. These are the ones who need our support as writers as well as readers. These publications provide the unique and essential benefit of providing editors who speak our languages, understand our worldviews, and the audiences our work is written for. Western publications are trying to catch up, if at all! You won’t get feedback covered in red pen asking you to explain this concept, and this phrase, which slows a story down. And we have readers eager to read about their world. At Aké Festival in 2022, I met a teacher whose students eagerly devoured multiple books, and particularly stories with characters like themselves in fantastical settings. We need more of our stories out there!
Casting your net internationally? Anytime you can get your work published internationally, usually with a paid venue, do it. But do not get disheartened if you’re rejected over and over again there. I’ve published locally, in places where there is no payment, because I know a story fits there, will be speaking to those it is intended for and who will get it. I’ve submitted internationally, either got rejections, or no responses, and submitted it locally and it’s a YES! That’s who I want to publish with.
Regarding specifically short stories and poetry – short stories and poems gave me the opportunity to hone my craft, to learn the art of writing, without the pressure of it taking years. I came to this form, short stories, after spending years, in between working full time, writing the first draft of my first novel (I had an idea I knew had merit to pursue). Imagine the worst case scenario of embarking on a novel, realizing what you’ve written did not turn out well, or even worse, you didn’t enjoy the writing process – this was why I kept at the novel because I felt it was getting somewhere and it was extremely rewarding to write even if no one ever read it.
Short stories were also where I realized I can write and I have ideas worth writing (and reading).
Through all of this learning I realised what can become a novel, what is required, and believing I can get there even if it takes years. I am not a prolific writer – speed is not my thing – and so writing a short story, though it takes time, is less of a time investment than a novel. And some ideas only require 2,000 words rather than 100,000 words.
The thing about African editors is so true! And it makes me wonder whether there is a disservice being done to our work by a sort of hands off approach that can come about because of the need to be seen to be inclusive. Do you have thoughts around this?
Yes, the hands-off approach can be problematic. But, in the end, we as the readers are able to make a judgement, nudging publishers in the right direction. It is also for the writers to realise they have the opportunity to have their work “peer reviewed” by established African writers. Find your network, don’t be afraid to reach out to “that writer” for them to read your work that is being published. We aren’t talking works in progress, we are talking final drafts, advanced reader copies. Get feedback.
You seem to have a lot going on at once. Is your crime thriller still in the works?
I am indeed writing something more grounded in realism, in the form of a crime thriller, folk horror (not dark fantasy). It is set in Oxford but, as always for me, I bring the continent with me. It is daunting, interesting, and thrilling. I’m throwing everything I’ve got at it, from language, to mythology and history, to social issues, and a dash of murder mystery. Let’s hope it sees the light of day.
I enjoy being creatively active in all the ways I am capable. Sometimes I need to pay the bills, and create things that will hopefully do that! Otherwise, I work with what I have, the tools I have (a computer or a pen), and get invited to participate in exciting projects and meet and work with awesome creatives. Having work sell, and to earn a living wage would be great, but to know anything I have created is been viewed, experienced, by even one person, is the most rewarding. And being asked to speak about my experiences is an honour if it can prompt someone to put pen to paper, type on a mobile, and put an idea down. Write, create. Now. Don’t wait.
Stephen was born in KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa and resident in Oxford, since being an Academic Visitor to the African Studies Centre, University of Oxford in 2022. His first short story was published in 2015 in the "Imagine Africa 500" speculative fiction anthology, followed by the “Beneath This Skin” 2016 Edition of Aké Review, the debut edition of Enkare Review 2017 and more. He is a charter member of the African Speculative Fiction Society and its Nommo Awards initiative. His 2020 debut speculative fiction novel, Soul Searching, was shortlisted for the Nommo Award in 2021. His YA fantasy novel, Bones & Runes, was a finalist in the 2021 James Currey Prize for African Literature, published in 2022. He was awarded the James Currey Fellowship, University of Oxford 2022. Stephen is editor of the 2023 edition of Flora Nwapa's posthumous final novel, The Lake Goddess, and is one of the eleven African writers in the Sauúti Collective Afro-centric shared-world.
Read Of War and Robots free on The Shallow Tales Review. We meet here via the app on Sunday 21st April at 16:00hrs. It’s a short, quick story to read. No excuses!