Butterfly Season – Natasha Ahmed

She’s not a fan of romance, but she liked my book!

What did I just read?

I received a free copy of this book from IndiReads in exchange for a fair and honest review.

Mild Spoilers ahead.

Butterfly Season by Natasha Ahmed is a well written tale of what seems to be a simple love story on the surface, but is actually an introspection into societal mores and perceived rightness of conduct. Butterfly Season tells us the story of how Ahad and Rumi meet and fall in love against a backdrop of disapproving family members, familial honor, and conservatism.

From the first page (which contains some rather lovely lines of poetry by the Persian poet, Rumi) to the last one, I was drawn in by the easy to read language and by events that had me either shaking my fists or cheering on the characters.

I am not a fan of romance as a genre and I was a little wary of reading this book. In…

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How to turn a Complex Story into a Simple Synopsis

Excellent tips for one of the most difficult aspects of selling your work.

Drew Chial

1. Profile A lot things go into telling a simple story

My least favorite type of writing has always been summarizing. Whether I was pitching a screenplay or a synopsis for a book, I got too concerned about what producers and publishers were looking for. I hated whatever I put on paper. It felt like I was cutting out the tastiest parts to make it palatable, misrepresenting the material by packaging it for mass appeal.

When my screenwriting professor videotaped the pitch for my first script, I ranted for twenty minutes. This was no elevator pitch. The lift for the tallest building in the world doesn’t take that long to get to the top. I had to lower my time to two minutes or less.

Since then I’ve learned the memorization techniques I needed to keep myself on task and how to select the parts of my story that were worth focusing…

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Rape Culture – Cover Your Eyes

While you were sleeping

Girl crying - WordPress Cover your eyes

Rape culture is when I was six, and my brother punched my two front teeth out. Instead of reprimanding him, my mother said “Stefanie, what did you do to provoke him?” When my only defense was my mother whispering in my ear, “Honey, ignore him. Don’t rile him up. He just wants a reaction.” As if it was my sole purpose, the reason six-year-old me existed, was to not rile up my brother. It’s starts when we’re six, and ends when we grow up assuming the natural state of a man is a predator, and I must walk on eggshells, as to not “rile him up.” Right, mom?

Rape culture is when through casual dinner conversation, my father says that women who get raped are asking for it. He says, “I see them on the streets of New York City, with their short skirts and heavy makeup. Asking for it.”…

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Running Orders

Love, InshAllah


Running Orders

“They call us now.
Before they drop the bombs.
The phone rings
and someone who knows my first name
calls and says in perfect Arabic
“This is David.”
And in my stupor of sonic booms and glass shattering symphonies
still smashing around in my head
I think “Do I know any Davids in Gaza?”
They call us now to say
You have 58 seconds from the end of this message.
Your house is next.
They think of it as some kind of
war time courtesy.
It doesn’t matter that
there is nowhere to run to.
It means nothing that the borders are closed
and your papers are worthless
and mark you only for a life sentence
in this prison by the sea
and the alleyways are narrow
and there are more human lives
packed one against the other
more than any other place on earth
Just run.

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