Eva Asprakis

1. Please tell us a bit about yourself and your work.
I was raised in South London by my American mother and Cypriot stepfather, who later adopted me. I now live in Nicosia with my partner, and am the author of two contemporary fiction novels. While cultural identity has always been a point of interest in my work, I am drawn more and more towards
the subject of womanhood. My fascination began when, at twenty-three, I suffered a missed abortion due to complications with polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS), after three doctors had told me that I would never conceive.

2. Has writing always been a focus for you or was it a Plan B?
Growing up, I had two great loves: writing and running. I won my first short-story competition at eight years old, and went on to rank in the top thirty under-fifteens’ hurdlers in the UK. My plan was to be an author and athlete. I fell - quite literally - short of this at a competition in the US, where I suffered a coccyx injury that ended my sporting career. For two years after, I struggled to read and wrote very little. Only once I had recovered physically could I restore myself mentally, and rediscover my love of literature. For me, physical and mental health, movement and imagination, are intrinsically linked. I had this reconfirmed to me at age twenty-three, when I lost the baby that I had been told I would never conceive. Once again, the physical strain of my ordeal took an emotional toll, this time sending me full-throttle at my writing rather than away from it. I don’t believe that I am a writer because I am not a mother. But I believe that I am this writer because of the wrenching, animal insights that not becoming a mother gave me.

3. How do you explore ideas or find inspiration for your work?
Generally, I write to figure things out. I look at the world around me, the environments that I move in, any injustices that I see or dynamics that I find puzzling, and I explore them through my characters. Broader topics that interest me are female sexuality, immigration and complex family dynamics.

4. What does the process of writing involve for you?
I tend to turn an idea over in my mind for some months, if not a year or two, before putting pen to paper. This way, I find that I can come to a story with a greater understanding of its characters and themes. They are familiar to me - and developing - from the outset. Once I start writing, I become
radically antisocial. Momentum is everything in the first-draft stage, and so it is only afterwards that I can see more of my very patient friends and family members. As I mentioned earlier, exercise is another key component of my mental clarity and something that I prioritise.

5. And what does writing then also give you in return?
Along with exercising, writing helps me to keep my head clear. It brings me to a point of understanding at times when I feel I may never reach it, and provides me with shelter from the storm of the real world. It is, also, something that I just love to do.

6. Has seeing your work in print changed how you view yourself, and also how you view your NoMo status?
Since publishing Thirty-Eight Days of Rain, a book heavily inspired by my experiences of PCOS, infertility and pregnancy loss, I have had many women reach out to me with similar stories. To know that my work has made them feel less alone is humbling. While I would never have chosen these
hardships, I am grateful that I have been able to make some good out of them.

7. Tell us about the wider reception that you’ve had to sharing your story - has it changed how others have viewed you and your identity as a non-parent?
I think, so far, the most interesting response to Thirty-Eight Days of Rain has been my mom’s. After reading it, she apologised for under-appreciating how deeply my pregnancy loss had affected me at the time. I got very good at hiding my hurt in the years after my coccyx injury, and so even those
closest to me forget, sometimes, that I can be sensitive underneath that. I think this story has allowed me to show a softer, more vulnerable side.

8. How do you feel about the current representation of childless and/or childfree people in literature?
While there are some more stigmatising examples, I believe that childless and childfree representation in literature is improving. Some stories I’ve found valuable are Sorrow and Bliss by Meg Mason, Expectation by Anna Hope, Breasts and Eggs by Mieko Kawakami, Starling Days by Rowan Hisayo Buchanan, Stay With Me by Ayobami Adebayo, Letter to a Child Never Born by Oriana Fallaci, and Motherhood by Sheila Heti.

9. What would you like the publishing world to know about non-parents, both as writers and readers, and our stories?
I think simply that there is no one, ‘right’ way to be a woman, with or without children. Of course, men can struggle with childlessness, too - I don’t want to take away from that - but it seems that women are seen as especially ‘less than’ or ‘missing something’ when we do not become parents.
Regardless of whether or not we want to be childless, I don’t believe that this should be the defining fact about any of us. Perhaps it is a part of our story, but not the beginning, middle and end.

10. What future plans do you have, especially for your writing?
I am currently working on a third novel, which has its emphasis on other aspects of womanhood, and I have a fourth one in mind which will return to the subjects of infertility and adoption - in a new light. My hope is to keep reaching people, particularly in the childless and multicultural communities, and making them feel seen.