Keeping the voice

I finally began in earnest today on the refinement of Turbulence. Getting rid of the rough edges and questionable passages. Making the story clear while keeping the voice.

This is very important. Writing is more than stringing words together in a grammatically correct fashion. To write is to give vibrancy to a character. And each character has his or her own way of speaking and thinking.

So my editor did give me a few suggestions for smoothing out some passages. I've already conquered the most difficult. While I was doing this, I remembered that it is very certainly not only what you say, but how you say it.

Whatever you do, always remain true to your characters.

The Right Time to Write

I have some pressing writing to do. Over a week ago the editor sent me the third Echoes Series book, Turbulence, with her suggestions for a few changes. Not major. Shouldn't take long at all. But I haven't done them yet.

Last week I was ready. I would wake up on Monday morning and dig right into it. But when I woke up I discovered my laptop gone and all my plans changed.

So now I have a new laptop. I did look at the manuscript yesterday, and made one small change. Today I haven't been able to tear myself loose from cyberspace.

It's probably just an excuse, but sometimes I feel I need the right time, the right mood, to write. It didn't happen today.

I hope it happens tomorrow.

I didn't get much writing done because. . .

I have a new computer, alhamdulillah! And the best part is that my 22-year old son bought it for me. He works long hours hauling boxes, saving for his college tuition, but he insisted on doing this. And during Ramadan. What a great kid.

So last night and most of the day today I spent my time downloading programs, getting my new computer to look like my old one. I successfully downloaded software for the printer--a major accomplishment for me--and now I'm ready to go.

I can't wait to start writing again. I've missed it greatly. But today I had to lay the groundwork. Tomorrow I'll get down to business, insha Allah.

Pulling it all together

On Sunday night, the last time I used my laptop, I had a sudden breakthrough on my upcoming book, Ripples. I was typing along, when I realized I had my theme.

When I first write my books, they are littler more than conglomerations of scenes. There is a story line, but it's weak. As I continue to write and revise, my story becomes stronger. But sometimes I can go through many drafts before I find the one element which will pull everything else together and create a novel from all those separate stories.

In Ripples, the fourth book in the Echoes Series, the main character is Isaiah--Chris's oldest son. In Echoes, Isaiah was a baby. He was briefly mentioned in Rebounding. In Turbulence, which will come out early next year, insha Allah, Isaiah is a young man. When I came to Ripples, I knew basicaly who Isaiah was, but I had a hard time drawing the lines of his personality. He's a complex character, and I've had to struggle to highlight all the different aspects of his personality.

Finally, on Sunday, I discovered the common thread which would unite the story and give it consistency. This thread also helps to define Isaiah and his conflict.

I won't give it away, of course. I just wanted to share that. No story is complete without the ties that bind.

Thankfulness

We never appreciate something until we are without it. Breathing, eating, drinking, sleeping are all natural. Most of us take our health for granted. And we also forget to thank Allah for our wealth.

I have finished Day 3 without a laptop, and I never realized how very much I depended on that machine. Tonight my publisher emailed possible covers for the newest book, Turbulence. But our family desktop can't open the documents. My laptop could.

So often today I thought about things I needed to do, then realized I couldn't do those without my laptop. My professional life is on hold.

We must be grateful for all of our blessings. They can disappear in a flash.

Restless

My laptop is gone and I am practically computer-less. I do have this desk top, alhamdulillah, but it's slower and I must share it with the rest of the family. I waited until 11:30 tonight for my turn at the computer.

The worst part is that I can't write. I tried to use the CD for my most recent work, but couldn't access it. I don't want to start anything new on this computer. And because I must share it I can't write when I want.

Insha Allah, my husband and son have promised to buy me a new laptop on Saturday. Until then I will have to make do. I'm watching more TV than usual--not a good thing--simply because I can't think of another way to pass the time.

I need to work on my stories. I can't concentrate. I can't even think clearly. I guess I can't call myself anything but a writer.

Three more days.

The Writer's Tool

I learned how to type when I was in high school, and since then I have rarely been away from a keyboard. When I was young I bought a small typewriter where I clicked away telling stories late into the night. I gradually moved up into larger typewriters. And, finally, computers. Word processing is a dream compared to the old days.

For the last several years I have always had a laptop. Always a Toshiba, actually. I found my first Toshiba by accident, many years ago, when our neighbor was selling his. It was in excellent condition, loaded with software, and it served me well for at least seven years--as I get older, time begins to blur.

When my old Toshiba began to fade I bought a new one. Faster and larger, with CD/DVD capabilities. I spent many hours with my new machine.

But this morning I came downstairs and found it gone--the space it had occupied on my desk was empty. All day I have been quietly mourning the loss. And I feel lost without my own keyboard to pound.

My laptop didn't just walk away, of course. There were signs of a break-in. My cell phone and charger are also missing, along with some money. I think that's one reason I'm still awake.

Now I must share the family desk top with my kids and their school assignments. I waited three hours to use the computer tonight. Homework always comes first. But I have two books in progress. One has come back from the editor and needs some simple changes. The other, the fourth book in my Echoes Series, was finally starting to show progress. Last night I made a major breakthrough in the story. This morning it was gone. (Alhamdulillah, I do have CD copies of my story files.)

I'm anxious to get back into writing. But I think I must wait until I am able to buy another Toshiba--although I did see a very nice Sony on sale.

Foreshadowing and subtleties

This is my latest challenge. I want to introduce a major plot twist. I admire authors who surprise their readers. But how much foreshadowing should I allow? How many hints? How bold will my hints be?

"Subtle" is one of my favorite words in the English languages. Even the spelling of the word confirms the meaning. But a writer has to find the balance. Some surprises. Some hints. Just the right measure of both. And stir.

Another of those little things which defines good writing. I'm working on it.

Expressions

I should have discussed this topic much earlier because it is, in fact, the reason I write.

Inside I am a jumble of memories and emotions. If I try to bottle them up, I sometimes feel I will explode. So when I feel tense, or when I simply want to enjoy myself, I write.

A few words I read tonight triggered a flood of emotions. I quickly wrote them into a poem. And I feel better.

Maybe that's the reason so many people are writing these days. There is a wonderful release. Whether the piece is a personal narrative or a novel very loosely based on actual life, the writer can let go of all those jumbled up feelings and thoughts. And breathe deeply.

I write. . .therefore I am.

Don't dig too deep

When I was writing Echoes, I came up with a great plot twist while in the shower. But (for those of you who haven't read it yet, I won't give anything away) I went too far. My original idea took on a life of its own and led the story in an entirely different direction.

This is a frequent problem for me. Tonight I was writing a husband-wife argument. Those are always fun. The problem is, I dug myself so deep--made the issues so important--that I couldn't find a way out.

I finally reached daylight, with a little cliffhanger because the problem isn't resolved, only tabled. Eventually, though, I will have to finish the argument. And someone is going to win. Maybe while I'm taking a shower in the morning I can find a win-win situtation. I doubt it.

The moral of all this is: Create conflicts for your characters. But always provide an escape hatch.

Alhamdulillah!

I'm so happy and I know all praise is due to God for the easy times in my life. So, alhamdulillah.

My upcoming book, Turbulence, has been a very passionate project for me. I started writing this story in 2004, and from the beginning I had a clear idea of where I wanted to go with it. In some ways it's a story close to my heart.

All was going well until one morning when I turned on the computer and discovered that the first 80 pages of my first draft had disappeared. I called on two computer experts for help, and neither was able to recover the lost pages. They were gone forever.

Fortunately I knew the plot so well that reconstruction wasn't as difficult as I'd thought it would be. Of course, I was much more careful after that.

I toiled with my characters each day, developing them along the way. About halfway through I discovered something very important about my main character. When I write novels, I don't feel like I'm inventing stories. Rather, I'm exploring and discovering. The signs were there all along. I don't know why I didn't see it sooner. I think I was in denial.

I kept reading through my manuscript, fine tuning passages and keeping the story fresh. Finally I turned the story over to the editor.

She just informed me that, except for a few small changes, I am good to go. That is such great news. Sometimes books need major revisions. Rebounding did. It's wonderful to hear that Turbulence is right where it should be.

And it should be available to my readers at the beginning of next year, insha Allah. I hope you enjoy it.

Now I'm working on the next book in the series. I'm taking a different approach with Ripples. I'm still in the early stages, and I think it's working. By next summer I hope Ripples will be ready to join Echoes, Rebounding, and Turbulence.

And I can't wait to get started on Silence--the final book in the Echoes Series. I have many ideas. Hopefully in a few months I'll start writing and see if they work.

The moral of the story is--keep writing. And rewriting. And rewriting. And I think you'll get there. I hope I am.

My mind is elsewhere

I want to write. I really do. But these days there are so many distractions.

My son's leg is nearly healed, though he's still limping. It should be completely healed in time for the new school year. (And you know he's happy about that.) We're moving in less than two weeks--another house about a mile away. On Saturday an exchange student will be arriving to spend the year with us. The kids need school supplies--not to mention uniforms. I want to write, but I just can't concentrate.

I may not write much here in the next couple weeks. I have many projects to catch up on. I can't wait to delve into the fourth book of the Echoes Series. But not yet.

In September the kids will be in school and, I hope, I can relax. And I hope I'll be ready to write.

Writing for change

"The pen is mightier than the sword," they say. We can only hope it is so.

While the people of Lebanon suffer under nearly constant bombardment, we are able to do very little to stop the carnage. We can pray. We can talk about it. And we can write.

This is my contribution to the crisis.


Death of Innocence

Qana, ancient town
full of meaning for
many of faith

Attacked by the faithless
innocents massacred
bloody children,
crying mothers, fathers, nation

War, never pretty, made worse
with children in the crosshairs
peace becomes impossible
grief turns into revenge

Take your place in history
Auschwitz, Hiroshima, My Lai
Birmingham, New York City
murder on massive scale

Qana, grieving town
full of anger and
ready to fight


I don't know if writing a poem will have any effect. But maybe if many of us write, and spread the word, we can make something happen.

May God help us all.

Where did Joshua come from?

I write in first-person. I began this practice upon the recommendation of a publisher who rejected my first novel, Innocent People, but saw merit in the story.

But I am not Joshua. Or Evie. Or Brad. I develop my characters from a composite of my experiences, based on where I want them to go.

Joshua came mainly, I think, from my experience of teaching high school. I saw many young men like him--talented, full of potential, and completely lost.

Evie is a stereotype I created when I was young. The "fifty-year old woman." I've known very few people, personally, who fit the stereotype, but it remains. When my mother turned fifty, she mentioned my "fifty-year old woman" concept. But she didn't fit it--and she never has.

In two days, insha Allah, I will be fifty. I don't fit the stereotype either. I don't care about fashions or what other people think of me--except when it comes to my writing. I'm not Evie. She remains a decades-long figment of my imagination--though she has come to mean more than that to me.

When my next book, Turbulence, is published early next year I will talk about where Brad came from. But not yet.

My characters come from me, in the deepest sense. I have met people--often briefly--who inspire them. I take mental notes during all my encounters. And when I sit down to write, all those past experiences, those mental notes, come into focus.

Joshua comes from many different places. My concern for young men who lack direction. My experience with students who slouched through life. He comes from my experiences and my imagination. Amazingly, he has become a part of my life.

"Muslims are people too."

Yea, I received a reply! Thank you, Sr. Safiyyah.

That's a great point. People seem to imagine Muslims as strange creatures. Covered and veiled women. Men with accents who keep shouting "Allahu akbar." Strange languages, dress, food, you name it.

But we're people. Most of us marry and have children. We all have feelings. Sometimes we laugh, sometimes we cry. When we bleed our blood is red. And we do say Allahu akbar because we glorify Allah, who created us.

And we like to read. It's nice to read stories in general, but it's better to read stories about us. Finding characters with the same approach to life. Revealing that Muslims are never perfect. (As Ismail said in Echoes, "Being a Muslim doesn't mean being perfect. It just means you try.") Discovering characters who struggle with life here in the U.S., just as we do. And learning Islam from Muslim characters.

Thank you again, Sr. Safiyyeh, for your great comment. I don't know where everyone else is. But those of us who do show up need to keep it up.

Is anybody out there?

I haven't received any responses yet, which is a really frustrating aspect of blogging. I throw my words out there, but I don't really know if anyone is reading them. I did once try to install a counter, but I did something wrong because it didn't work. Technology and I are not exactly best friends.

Writing books is like that too. Weaving the stories without any assurance that the books will be read. Sitting in my livingroom, in my own world which no one else can see. Finally delivering my books out into the world and hoping they will be well-received.

The worst part, of course, is picking up a best-selling book and knowing I wrote better than that. It doesn't happen often, but it does happen.

Writing is an act of faith, I guess. And speaking of faith. What do you have to say about Islamic fiction?

(If you don't like it, say so. I've heard worse. I can take it.)

So what do you think?

I haven't heard from my readers yet about Islamic fiction. I'm still waiting.

What are you looking for when you pick up a book? And what comes to your mind when you hear about Islamic fiction?

In 1986 I heard, for the first time, about Islamic education. Immediately I imagined so many possibilities. Many of them have come to pass. Others I'm still waiting for. But there's time.

Do you remember when your teacher (if you grew up in the U.S.) told you to read the Diary of Anne Frank? It was very moving, wasn't it? How did it make you feel about the victims of the Holocaust? Didn't it give you a different perspective?

That's what Islamic fiction can do. Make Muslims real. Not just masked men carrying guns or veiled women who walk ten steps behind their husbands. It can make us real for non-Muslims who would like to know more about us but are afraid to ask, and must rely on the evening news for all of their information. And it can make us real for the Muslim kids who grow up in this country and hear, daily, about how terrible Muslims are.

When I decided to become a writer, full-time, I also decided that every book I wrote would reflect the lives of Muslims.

So that's what I think about Islamic fiction. But I'm still waiting to hear from you.

Islamic Fiction. Why?

I would like to remind you of the petition. If you haven't signed it yet, please do.

I would also like to hear from my readers. Why is Islamic fiction important?

Islamic Fiction--Petition

Every society has literature. In fact, literature tells you a great deal about the society. It is a way to pass on the values of the society in a relaxed and entertaining manner, and my guess is literature has influenced most societies more than many other factors.

Many of us are trying to create an atmosphere in which Islamic literature is accepted. Middle Eastern countries have had literature, Islamic and otherwise, for hundreds of years. But some Muslims still balk at the idea of Islamic fiction written in English. Literature which speaks to the people of the land, in their own language and their own cultural understanding.

If you support Islamic fiction, and I'm sure you must, please sign the petition.

The Islamic Writers Alliance is sponsoring a petition to call for publishers, distributors, and book retailers and wholesalers, particularly ones serving the Muslim community to produce and stock more Islamic fiction. If you'd like to sign (I hope you will!) please go to:

http://www.petitionspot.com/petitions/islamicfiction

Nat the prison guard

Nat is another character in Rebounding. Not one of my favorites, but he represents a very real sentiment.

Nat is a guard in a federal prison. The prison where Joshua is held on terrorist charges. He has a daughter who is fighting overseas. Like any father, he is worried about her. And, because the enemies she's fighting are Muslims, he's is suspicious of all Muslims. This is not uncommon either. It's not that Nat is a bad guy. He's just a very concerned father.

But Nat's love for his daughter blinds him to any good he may find in Muslims he encounters. Instead he is hostile and threatening. After all, that Muslim inmate may have connections with a soldier in the Middle East who has a bomb waiting for Nat's daughter.

The United States is full of Nats. Not bad. Just so wrapped up in their own worlds that they can't see the larger picture. They are unable to accept the fact that the majority of Muslims are normal people, trying to earn money and raise their families.

Nat is suspicious and very angry. It's too bad he didn't take the time to get to know Joshua. Joshua is also a concerned and loving father. Nat would be surprised by how much they have in common.