J.L. Campbell: Life is a Woman Breaking Eggs

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Today, I’m happy to be hosting Adura Oja, writer of lyrical works that makes me wish I had her talent. She’s here to share a little about her book, Life is a Woman Breaking Eggs.

Your book has a very interesting title. How did that come about?

There were three previous working titles that just didn’t sound right until Life is a Woman Breaking Eggs popped into my mind. The book is divided into three sections: Albumen, Yolk and Woman. I wanted a title that reflected what the collection was about.

How would you describe the book?

‘Life’ is a collection of poems divided into three sections which echo and draw on stages of human consciousness and development: innocence and exposure, the shaping of consciousness and awareness.

Over what period did you compile the poems?

The collection came into being over a period of three years (2011-2014), writing, rewriting and editing until it was ready for publishing.

How long have you been writing?

I started writing in 2004. I was a Freelance columnist with the Sunday Independent, a Nigerian newspaper. Then I began blogging in 2008, and writing more. This is my first book as an author.

What's next for Adura Ojo?

I have a second poetry collection that’s brewing in my mind. It is in conceptualization as we speak. I also have two novels - works in progress.

What’s your advice to aspiring authors?

I’ve learned never to give up on my goals. I call them goals, not dreams. Goals are practical. You identify what you’re trying to achieve and then build steps toward it. You carve bit by bit until you get there.

Would you like to share a poem?

Yes, certainly. Here is one called “Keys.”

Keys

Tired of folding creme anglaise
curdling to the chase
lemons lose their allure to tummy singing oysters
discordant chords of uncoordinated keys

what to give
is no longer for the taking
long disappeared before it was gone
a reminder of fantasies far away from dreams

painted tender, painted hot
brush strokes welting on sun kissed skin
the price of summer sin

weary bristles on papyrus
labour lost in the hope of us