Q: Not everyone writes, nor can everyone write. Tell us what inspired you to pick up a pen and start writing, along with a brief introduction of yourself.

A: I wanted to feel seen. There’s a James Baldwin quote you might have seen floating around the internet, which goes, ‘You read something which you thought only happened to you, and you discover that it happened 100 years ago to Dostoyevsky. This is a very great liberation for the suffering, struggling person, who always thinks that he is alone. This is why art is important.’ I was always a lonely child. Writing has been my friend, my secret keeper, my solace, my ally, my revolution, and the love of my life. It has always held me and my very colorful emotional world with the softest hands. 

Q: As one correctly said, every writer has their own reasons for writing—whom they write for and why. How has the feedback from your readership been regarding Our Bones in Your Throat?

A: To be honest, I like staying a bit clueless about who reads my work and what they think of it once it’s out there. I like training my brain to de-pedestal validation. Same with criticism. It is what it is, and the joy is in the process, not the outcome.

Q: Our readers would be interested in learning more about your work. Could you elaborate on the story behind this book?

A: Our Bones in Your Throat is about a lot of things, including female rage, campus politics, power dynamics, folklore, friendship, and vulnerability. Esai arrives at a college set in the woods and investigates the story of a woman who drowned in a lake. The book is about this single incident and the multiple narratives around it. 

Q: The writing process is unique to each writer. After all, it is dynamic. What is your writing process?

A: Urgent. Messy. Unhinged. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I’m not a disciplined writer. In fact, I have no discipline. What I do have, is devotion to it, and that keeps me afloat and sees me to the end of the process. I’ve written in moving rickshaws. I’ve written under lololikka trees. I’ve written sobbing. I’ve written drunk and happy. I’ve also written sitting at neat desks, and this isn’t to say I can write anywhere. I actually can’t. But when it shows up, I drop everything else and kneel.

Q” Writer’s block is often discussed. Has it ever affected you? If so, when, and how did you deal with it?

A: Yes. I have a very ebb-and-flow relationship with my work. I wouldn’t call it a block in writing because I can still write a thousand words that say nothing significant. I think these blocks are more emotional in nature. If I don’t feel strongly about it, I wouldn’t want to write about it. I know that seems quite stubborn. I have my regrets about it. And I don’t deal with writer’s block. I take it as a sign to go live my life and also to read a lot more books. How can I write without my lived experiences? And why must I expect anyone to read what I write if I don’t read other people? What sort of entitlement is that?

Q: “Fiction is the reality of the fiction we live.” What is your take on that statement?

A: I can’t speak for others, but my writing has always been confessional. 

Q: Three decades ago, one could sit and read fiction without much concern for facts. Today, readers are obsessed with accuracy due to their information-driven mindsets, often making it difficult for them to fully enjoy a piece of fiction. In your opinion, how has this overwhelming access to information impacted readers’ literary appreciation?

A: I like an informed audience. I like readers who hold writers accountable. It’s very inspiring to me. The whole point of art/literature is to encourage people to question everything. So I think it’s good. 

Q: What are your thoughts on the digitalization of books and its impact on readers, literature, and overall human well-being, which literature ultimately aims to enhance?

A: It’s wonderful that we’re adapting to the changing times. The literary industry can’t stay a dinosaur forever. 

Q: Would you mind giving us a hint about your future work?

A: I’m working on myself!

Q: Any parting words?

A: I’d love to recommend some books on Palestine that I read this year and loved, so here goes:

• The Arsonists’ City by Hala Alyan
• The Hundred Years’ War on Palestine by Rashid Khalidi
• Minor Detail by Adania Shibli
• On Palestine by Ilan Pappé and Noam Chomsky

By Dhanuka Dickwella