In life, as in literature, there are beautiful gaps of meaning. Sometimes they are intentional, at other times spontaneous. A writer leaves for us gaps to complete the meaning according to our own life experiences; sometimes she has the answers, but often the writer herself doesn’t have the answer. For me, one of the smallContinue reading “Beautiful gaps of meaning”
Tag Archives: writing
the first time – memory | experimental writing
I’ll be sharing some experimental writing here with you. Please feel free to give me feedback, as I am really just stumbling through the darkness with this. I do have to warn you that it might be difficult to read, as I am working on a novel where the main character is a survivor ofContinue reading “the first time – memory | experimental writing”
Mourning – work in progress no.2
Sharing the second excerpt of the work-in-progress, tentative title Mourning. This piece has been emotionally difficult to write, as the character is a survivor of sexual molestation. You can read the first excerpt at: https://khuludkhamis.com/2016/11/05/mourning-work-in-progress/ I walk out to the garden, seeking a few alone moments. It is practically impossible to mourn someone – really mourn – inContinue reading “Mourning – work in progress no.2”
What we are forbidden to talk about
Every story, every testimony of sexual violence that arrives at تسكتيش Tuskuteesh (don’t remain silent: a safe space for Arab women to share testimonies of sexual violence), brings up yet another, and another memory. I realize that as a woman, I’ve been exposed to so many incidents of sexual harassment throughout my life that IContinue reading “What we are forbidden to talk about”
They chip away at your life – novel in progress
We buried Zahra in March. I stumbled through my final exams, sleepless, bleary-eyed, insomniac. All I knew was that I had to get through the exams somehow, because that was my future. But I also knew I couldn’t stay there one minute more than I had to. If I did, I would either have toContinue reading “They chip away at your life – novel in progress”
scribbles from a notebook
I dip in and out of writing. Something is simmering beneath the surface. Three women, memories of three lives, each carrying some elements of me inside her. I connect to them, get lost in their lives, I confuse them, then try to separate them back and mould them into three independent characters. I try toContinue reading “scribbles from a notebook”
monologue on the wall
being a writer means that I’m either writing, thinking about writing and about my characters’s lives, constantly weaving alternative narrative lines in my head. But it also means that I live two parallel lives – the one real life, and then a second life, which is lived through words, within the folds of notebooks. There, whenContinue reading “monologue on the wall”
a workshop in storytelling
Yesterday was the first time in my life I participate in a workshop with a performing artist and storyteller. Being a writer is a form of storytelling, but being a performing storyteller is different. On some levels, these two forms are the same, but on other levels they are different. They are the same inContinue reading “a workshop in storytelling”
Hayat | in her voice | a woman’s monologue
just a fragment from my current work-in-progress. raw and unedited. Hayat | in her voice | a woman’s monologue I will tell her everything tonight. Not because I need to justify my choices or defend them in any way, not because she deserves to know the truth, and not because I feel any need toContinue reading “Hayat | in her voice | a woman’s monologue”
on writing – letting go of a character
One of the most difficult things in writing is spending a year with a character, listening to her pain, loving her, and then, after a whole year, having to part with her. To let her go. Because her story is not for this book. I am now gently cutting the pieces of her out ofContinue reading “on writing – letting go of a character”
Writing in the Margins 