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Uttama

u̇-təm-ä

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Project Type: fiction

Shape of an Apostrophe

The Sacrificial First

Safia

An Orca Wails

Painting hook

Grinch in Girighun

Closed doors

Blind Spot

Desert dunes

His Desert Pyre

We left this city so we could relocate to a country that would allow us to adopt our daughter. We had initially moved to NYC to be newly married in a new place. It’s where I started writing fiction, absorbing the creative energy of strangers in coffee shops, attending literary events, and starting to form a vision of myself as an author. The city had felt so big to me. Seeing it with Zaya—who was unfazed by its enormity or significance to me (or anyone else for that matter)—felt refreshing. Humbling, perhaps. She had eyes only for her friends, for my friends, for the kind people on the street who stopped to say something to her. And an inanimate green lady holding a torch who, in Zaya’s words, “lives on an island and is free, just like me.” There are endless reasons not to write, all of which are laced with some variation of fear. Even after having published a book. Perhaps specifically because of having done so. We flew a distance so Zaya could meet my big-hearted family. There’s a lot of us, and we mostly laugh and eat and coordinate logistics of who is sleeping where and then hopefully end up in a pathari next to someone who doesn’t snore. Zaya’s first cousins are all boys, except for her eldest @shreenasp, who is a star act of a sister. Her aunts and uncles are goofballs nearing or beyond age 50 who pretend to be unicorns for her, and wait in line for glitter tattoos. Her grand uncles and aunts cook up a storm while she sits on the counter chitchatting about who knows what across English and Gujarati. I’m sensing a hesitation to commit to The Lab, and I get it. Online isn’t my favourite space to work or create in either. But I’m resharing this because the benefit of a community and shared creative energy is precisely what propels my projects, no matter what they are. Join in for however many days or however long you can; I’ll be there! Link in bio to register. Write in quiet company. From anywhere. Journal, draft a story, draw comics. Come every day, or only one day. Show up for 20 minutes or two hours. Any genre, any level. On Fridays, stick around for Q&A on writing, publishing, or creative play. Write in quiet company. From anywhere. Journal, draft a story, draw comics. Come every day, or only one day. Show up for 20 minutes or two hours. Any genre, any level. On Fridays, stick around for Q&A. Every story, like every person, gets stuck at some point. Polished prose may feel emotionally empty. Or maybe you feel empty. Rewriting isn’t always a technical chore. Revision can be a psychological shift, a perspective disruption, a creative act as compelling as the story itself. Join me in this class at @poetswritersinc where micro-edits will have macro impact. Link in bio to register. On the sofa with my brilliant friend @tamsinredt who knows the art of delightful conversation. So much of book promo can feel like it’s about numbers and audience and other quantitative measures which I never thought about when I wrote the novel. But every time I sit down with a small group of people, the story is enlarged. Vulnerability shows up, as does honesty, tears, and a healthy dose of dark humour.
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