Aspiring writers dream of seeing their name on the cover of a book. For Exodus Oktavia Brownlow, that wish was fulfilled twice in the span of just a month.
Brownlow is the author of two new books published in May, an essay collection from ELJ Editions and a fiction chapbook produced by Ethel Zine and Press. She will discuss her work at a live podcast recording at Friendly City Books on Saturday at 3 p.m.
Since graduating in 2018 from the Mississippi University for Women with a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing, Brownlow has received a number of honors, including The Changing American South Fellowship awarded by the Writers’ Colony at Dairy Hollow and back-to-back appearances in the annual “Best Microfiction” anthology. Later this year, she will return to the Friendly City to participate in MUW’s annual Eudora Welty Writers’ Symposium.
In an interview with The Dispatch, Brownlow described the impact MUW’s MFA program has had on her career, as well as the thought process that goes into her writing.
Brownlow’s unique style starts with the attention-grabbing titles of her works, which often lead with complex phrases and ideas, like her essay collection “I’m Afraid That I Know Too Much About Myself Now,” “To Go Back To Who I Knew Before,” and “Oh Lord, Who Will I Be After I’ve Known All That I Can.”
Her chapbook “Look at All the Little Hurts of These Newly-Broken Lives and The Bittersweet, Sweet and Bitter Loves” has the distinction of being made by hand by her publisher in a limited edition with applique fabric details stitched on the cover.
Brownlow’s next writing project, a novel, is already in the works. There’s no word yet on the official title, but attendees at her upcoming appearances in Columbus might be able to get a sneak preview.
This interview has been lightly edited for clarity and length.
One of your calling cards as a writer are the unusually long and often witty titles of your works. How did that develop?
Every long title is usually the first sentence that comes to me when I’m writing a new piece. Sort of like a song. It stays with me and the piece in progress the entire time. I do a bit of cleaning up, but I try to make it a piece, outside of the story, all on its own. My first long (though short by some of my story standards today) titled piece was a flash fiction that I wrote called “When it Gets Cold in The South, Only The Pumpernickel Survives” and I just remember how natural it felt. Every word in any long title that I write is purposeful.
What is your approach to determining whether an idea becomes a fictional story, a nonfiction piece or a poem?
I usually know from the start. Some pieces? I want to be extra playful with the world, the characters, in a way that’s just not possible to label it as nonfiction. It has traces of the real throughout, naturally, but not enough for it to be conceivable in our current reality. With nonfiction, I’m usually more focused on sharing personal experiences and even some of the more “creative” elements with the musicality of the language is done so in a way that evokes emotional resonance, how I felt and thought. I’m new to poetry so this one I’m still trying to figure out.
How did going to MUW for your MFA impact your writing career?
My MFA experience was fantastic and I can sincerely say that I wouldn’t be the writer that I am today without The W and my treasurable teachers, my community of writer friends. It gave me the means to be a lot more disciplined with my craft, and patient. I learned that the secret to your work being good and your work being great is the time we’re willing to spend on it. I was taught that to be a great writer means to read great writers from our past and our present. And finally, to be playful with the work means to find enjoyment in it. We can be flexible, strict and light.
Who are your biggest influences?
Kiese Laymon. Donna Tartt. Richard Wright. Zora Neale Hurston. I’m sure you’ve noticed how distinctly and uncompromising the southerness in my selections are, and that’s because these are the writers who’ve taught me, so well and so wonderfully, how to write about home. Voice. Beauty. The bittersweet. I live for their words.
What does it mean to you to be a Mississippi writer?
Everything. It means everything. Being a Mississippi writer, there’s no set limit to the experiences that we have, the thoughts that blossom within that we ultimately decide to clip and share or to merely let them grow and stay as is. We can craft with the intention of being very, sort of traditionally southern — switching “is not” for “ain’t.” But we can also craft outside of this too. Taking on genres of the obscure, the romantic, the literary.
It means that because it’s easy for others to believe that we have nothing to give, that we can operate from a very secure, very knowledgeable awareness that our creative efforts are boundless and only enriched from this place that we call home.
Emily Liner is the owner of Friendly City Books, an independent bookstore and press in Columbus.
You can help your community
Quality, in-depth journalism is essential to a healthy community. The Dispatch brings you the most complete reporting and insightful commentary in the Golden Triangle, but we need your help to continue our efforts. In the past week, our reporters have posted 45 articles to cdispatch.com. Please consider subscribing to our website for only $2.30 per week to help support local journalism and our community.
You can help your community
Quality, in-depth journalism is essential to a healthy community. The Dispatch brings you the most complete reporting and insightful commentary in the Golden Triangle, but we need your help to continue our efforts. In the past week, our reporters have posted 45 articles to cdispatch.com. Please consider subscribing to our website for only $2.30 per week to help support local journalism and our community.
Join the Discussion