A writer writes about a writer

http://www.thenational.ae/arts-culture/books/successful-start-for-iranian-american-teen-romance-author#full

Successful start for Iranian-American teen romance author

Maryam Ismail

Mar 24, 2012 

Tahereh Mafi wrote her debut novel in less than three months, has completed the second and has Hollywood knocking on her door. Maryam Ismail meets the young author who has taken the publishing world by storm with her saga of a uniquely tactile teenager. 

Tahereh Mafi heard a voice in her head and started to write. The musings of this voice turned into a novel and that soon turned into a trilogy. Now she's an example of a literary success.

I first found out about Mafi on the blog of the author and former literary agent Nathan Bransford, when I was learning the ropes of writing and publishing. I had no idea that this quirky young woman from California would blow up as one of the hottest young-adult writers of 2011. It seems that as soon as I found her she came out with a whisper of a novel (advance reader copies), then two book trailers. Now she's hitting the stratosphere. I can only dream of being so lucky. But it seems luck had little to do with it. Hard work, perseverance, good writing and a fascinating story put Mafi on the swagger list.

"When I'm drafting, I write from 4am to 2am," says Mafi, 24. "I need this much time to find my words. Sometimes, I send my family away for a week until I'm done."

Tahereh Mafi wrote her debut novel in less than three months, has completed the second and has Hollywood knocking on her door. 

This intensity helped Mafi finish that debut young-adult novel, Shatter Me, in two and a half months. And if you can write like that, you don't want to wait around to see if it's a success. So she queried publishers.

The literati may be pitting self-publishing against traditional publishing, but Mafi hit a home run for the old school. "There is so much more in terms of promotion that a publisher can do for you," she says. (For Shatter Me, HarperCollins created a website, released those advance reader copies and filmed two book trailers, one of which premiered on MTV's Hollywood Crush.) "Also, it's so easy to get lost in the e-book world unless you're really willing to work very hard to get your book out there."

Which is why Mafi doesn't waste time when it comes to using social media; she tweets only with one goal in mind, to make contact with her readers. In this respect, she borders on Machiavellian in her calculated effort to go from someone who plays around with words to one who creates worlds. In fact, she says she had no intention of writing a novel.

"I started writing after graduating from university [Soka University of America, in Orange County, California] because I didn't have much to do," she says. Now, with her second novel, Unravel Me completed and set for publication in February 2013, she is working on the last instalment of her trilogy, and awaiting progress on a film of Shatter Me, on which 20th Century Fox has an option.

Mafi's blog, Grab a Pen, which she started before she got her book deal, features writer-friendly advice as well as angst, doubts and straight-backed marching towards an uncertain future. She is traversing the same bumpy, treacherous valleys and sun-kissed hills as do so many writers. Now that her book is out, the daughter of Iranian immigrants is focusing on her website and again on her Twitter, Facebook and Tumblr accounts, where she connects with her fans, who seem to love Shatter Me's three main characters, Juliette, Warner and Adam.

Shatter Me is set in an authoritarian society filled with human misery, war and environmental damage. To break up the gloomy background, Mafi adds a twist of teen love in this chaotic world controlled by the shadowy Reestablishment, and the relationship between Juliette and Adam is a steamy one. Mafi says that Shatter Me is being marketed in Germany for adults, not teens, because of the darkness of the novel, but it might be because of the love scenes.

"The teen years are when we discover these feelings," Mafi says in defending her romantic explicitness. "Juliette needs love. She's been abandoned by everyone." As it turns out, Adam's care and affection help Juliette to shatter doubts about her self-worth and the claims that she's a monster, a teenager with a lethal touch who is highly sought after to be used as a weapon of war.

Yet it is up to Juliette to decide what to do with her power, and this concept underscores the many ways in which women are used as an ends to a means, from war to marketing.

"I wanted to show how we can change a negative into a positive," Mafi says. "A hammer can be used to destroy a house or build one." The author knows this herself, noting: "I wasn't the most popular in high school, but I've overcome that."

I ask if her family was surprised by her success. She laughs and says: "No. When they found out, they said: 'Of course, we knew she could do it.'"

Maryam Ismail on Muslim literary characters

Maryam Ismail

Mar 14, 2012 

http://www.thenational.ae/featured-content/channel-page/lifestyle/middle-article-list/maryam-ismail-on-muslim-literary-characters 

March in the UAE means books. Both Dubai and Abu Dhabi are flush with writers, authors, publishers and agents; everything to make literary dreams come true. However, there aren't enough great books for Muslim kids aged 9-16, who need books that reflect their lives and their culture. How many jinns, vampires, ghosts and goblins must be consumed before enough is enough? 

Obviously, there's a genre crisis. Something funny happened in my stomach when I saw the trailer for the film Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. Is nothing sacred? Perhaps it's just a girl thing or that one episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer that was mind-numbing trash that made me dislike all things from the world of the undead.

I've tried mysteries, too. I went to my local children's bookseller and my daughter picked up Two-Minute Mysteries by Donald J Sobol. Little did I know that I'd be exposing my then-8 year-old to alcohol and drug users, liars and murderers. When I consulted a librarian in Philadelphia, she told me the book was meant for sixth-graders. I can't say I felt better.

The crisis is really with the Muslim literary canon. I know there will be some who will say: "We don't do literature, it's lying". Of course, lying should not be a priority, but I won't blame Jacqueline Wilson, JK Rowling or Stephenie Meyer for misguiding Muslim youth. It's not their fault. It's mine. I don't mind the responsibility.

I – and you, fellow writers or would-be writers – should be turning out books instead of fewer-than-a-thousand-word quips. I should be writing 10,000 words a day, a novel a year. I'm trying, believe me. Inshallah, I will be successful. And my book will not have any supernatural characters; maybe some blood, maybe some fighting, but it will be something worth reading.

My goal is to add to the genre of halal fiction, to join the ranks of Leila Aboulela, whose work juggles the art of fiction without losing its soul to madness. We can write stories for kids without exceeding the limits of Islam and without being dull or saccharine.

The stories don't have to be overtly religious; more importantly, it's an issue of self-image. How many times has someone read a book and said: "For the first time, I saw someone like me in the story?" Every day, during school, kids read stories with images, names and situations that are strange to them, especially for children who live in the UAE.

Why waste time explaining the behaviour of Willow Smith or Justin Bieber as a cautionary tale? It won't work in this fame-driven global culture. Kids need alternatives. Let's feed their imaginations with adventures in the Muslim world. Why not write of life in the UAE before oil? What was it like? How hard was it to do daily tasks? How much fun was it?

I'd love to read a novel about an 11-year-old girl living in Andalusia or a student of Mimar Sinan in Constantinople during the 1500s or a young Sipahi in the Ottoman Empire.

This doesn't mean you write some cynical story about a wimpy teenager or a hot, steamy Twilight-esque novel; that's not what's needed. Nor is sticking a Muslim name on it enough. Do something totally different. Blow the competition out of the water, inshallah.

OK, there's the homework. Let's get cracking. If any of you seem scared or don't know what to do, send me a message and let's do this.

Maryam Ismail is a sociologist and teacher who divides her time between the US and the UAE. Reach her on Twitter @alaskamongolia, which is the title of her forthcoming anthology. 

Feeling of family fades as expatriates scattered to the wind

Maryam Ismail

Mar 6, 2012 

http://www.thenational.ae/thenationalconversation/comment/feeling-of-family-fades-as-expatriates-scattered-to-the-wind

Two weeks ago, I was helping my husband's sister pack the fragments of her life to ship back to India. Her husband had lost his job and felt there was no use in trying for another one here, since he might make the same or better money back home. So, with only 90 minutes to go, my sister-in-law was trying to stuff every sticker, glass bangle, saucer and hairpin in a box, turning the move into a travelling scrapbook.

And yet, they left so much behind. Two wardrobes, a bed and a kitchen filled with spices, dishes and a stove. It was more than enough for the next person to come in and start cooking. As I helped her sort out everything, I felt a sense of dread. What will I do if I'm the next to go?

In the airport my daughters burst into tears as they wrapped their arms around their "Chachi", or auntie in Tamil, one last time. Next was the turn of my husband's other sister. Embracing, the sisters both used the ends of their sheilas to sop up their tears.

My nephew, my daughters' last cousin here, blinked back tears; nevertheless, he put on his widest smile. He left waving and calling out to his cousins for the entire length of the line to the X-ray machines.

Seeing my daughter, leaning against the wall to hide her sobs, I wanted to grab her and run away from this pain. Such is life for many expatriates, wherever they may be. Family and friends come and go. We all know our turn will come as well, but we pretend like it's never going to happen.

But now it has happened to us. Our family once included 35 members all living within walking distance of one another; we are now six in Sharjah and five in Abu Dhabi. The past three years have been devastating.

This last departure seemed almost like a funeral, where the family tries to get over it quickly, close the box, toss on some dirt and move on. This was my husband's approach, but he was sad too. With his big sister gone, there was one less person to joke and giggle with and to share the stories of their childhood.

Back when we were all together, I'd sit there and watch how he and his mother, sisters and brothers would roar with laughter. And even though I didn't understand a word of it, I didn't care, because I knew it made him happy.

It also saved me from cooking: I'm an American. My mother bought KFC, Gino's and Hardee's every Friday. It might sound like neglect, but from the age of 10 I mostly ate hot dogs roasted on a fork, scrambled eggs, backyard barbecue, and chicken and dumplings with salad. We rarely ate rice, which is a thrice-daily staple in any South Indian home.

With my husband's sister gone, I will have to do all the cooking. This is another tragedy. South Indian cooking is a science and a skill that I don't have, and one which I do not care to learn. It's mind-boggling hard.

My mother-in-law and her daughters can make about 50 dishes with rice, all of them taking about two days. "It's easy," they would tease. Yeah, it's easy to come over and eat it, but not to make it.

One such creation is dosa, made from fermented, ground rice and coconut milk. This crunchy pancake is my youngest daughter's favourite. Every time we visited Chachi she would beg for it. It didn't matter; the batter would be ready.

Now, who will make dosa for my girls? Who will make all of my husband's favourite south Indian dishes? My sister-in-law and her husband have offered to host us in their new home, but five hours on a plane once a year is heartbreaking.

For us, it's the UAE; for others, it's somewhere else. As the search for a better life spreads us across the world, I somehow feel like an old Roman citizen of the empire, where one could move from the Iberian Peninsula to the Levant. These days we call it globalisation. Back then, when your time was up, you were thrown to the lions. This time, it's to the four winds.

As I watched Chachi disappear out of sight, I wanted to cry too. I'll miss her. My sister took care of my girls like they were her own. But most of all, I'll miss the times we spent together, laughing and chatting, and eating dosas.

Maryam Ismail is a teacher based in both the US and the UAE