Laying Bare What's Hidden: Interview w/ Fresh Voices Finalist, Daniel Ogba
We are delighted to highlight one of the seven impressive finalists of this year’s Fresh Voices Fellowship, which seeks to bring visibility to emerging writers of color.
Daniel Ogba is a Nigerian writer. His work has appeared in Lolwe, Tint Journal, and elsewhere. He was a finalist for the 2024 Fresh Voices Fellowship in the category of fiction, and a finalist for the 2022 Toyin Falola Short Story Prize.
Read his short story, “TriniBoys,” here.
What were your first experiences with art like? Is there an art encounter that remains vivid in your memory?
A memory that remains so vivid is of my transformative encounter with classical music. I recall attending a Christmas Carol service in my church where I overheard the choir so splendidly perform music I'd later learn was from Handel's Messiah. It was totally a chance event – I was too young to be in the church's adult section, but the voices had pulled me like a magnet and I stood transfixed at the steps outside, allowing myself to be altered by something, I couldn't tell what, but I knew it was grander than me. I didn't know the words to any of the songs, but I went home with a bubbling in my chest and the only outlet was to hum mindlessly the bits of tunes I'd picked up. When the new year came, I had only one resolution: to attend the evening choir rehearsals and listen to the music from a distance. That happened for a while, until the choirmaster discovered me. I joined the choir and, even luckier, discovered I was blessed with a talent for singing. I don't acknowledge it enough, but classical music has shaped a huge part of my life, and it's one of the largest sources of inspiration and influence on my written works.
What is the best writing advice you’ve received? How did it alter the way you think?
Malcolm Gladwell says, “Just because you set out to accomplish one thing with a story doesn’t mean that you necessarily have to make that thing happen.” I am obsessive about endings, I always want to know how a story ends from the beginning. Sometimes, this obsession guides the story and all is well, but more often, it impedes the progress and there's the self-imposed frustration when the story isn't going as planned. I'm learning more to allow room for the diversions and unexpected events that frequently show up because hey bear qualities, like a certain instinctiveness, that can positively override the original idea. It's an adventure every time I embark on a new story without having an ending in sight.
In your development as a writer, what is one thing you have discovered that is completely different than what you first imagined at the start of your writing journey?
It doesn't get easier, I thought it would along the way. While starting out, I thought all that was required of me was to at least be able to string coherent sentences together, to convey the imagery in my head through the right words. I thought the path to getting there was by reading other writers (it was, still is), and writing constantly till I achieved a flow state. I thought I'd get to the point where the story would just pour forth like an endless stream; a point where I wouldn't fail anymore at writing. How wrong and naive I was. I've learned that the fundamental key to writing — writing well, writing at all — is an openness to failure. You must be willing to fail, and to try again, not once, but repeatedly. You need a lot of patience, and a thick skin to survive, because writing can and will withhold its gifts just as quickly as it bestows it upon you.
Do you have any rituals or practices that help keep you focused when creating? Or do you let the chaos of the world seep in as you write?
I prefer to write in stillness. Late at night and in the early hours of the day, my mind is most focused and I'm at my most functional state.
Getting up on your soapbox, what are three books you would recommend to anyone and everyone?
Rainer Maria Rilke's Letters to a Young Poet is a book I wish I'd read earlier, and since I have I return to it often for guidance, and particularly for its comfort. Raymond Carver’s Cathedral and Jhumpa Lahiri’s Interpreter of Maladies contain some of my favorite short stories ever. There's a pristine quality to the nature of the stories in both collections: an examination of sorts, an attempt to uncover, lay bare, something that's hidden beneath the hubris of an emotion. Overall, both collections are a masterclass in minimalism.
