In my creative writing classes, whether at the University of Toronto or the Hermitage Residency in Bangladesh, I emphasise that any student of fiction must first master suspense
Playing with a location that seems real but is not is a tricky line to negotiate, and writer beware: you will be attacked
I became curious as to how the experience of reading might change for someone who studied it for a living, and how the lens of a literature student might differ from that of a creative writing one
Like many veterans, I joined a creative writing MFA program because I wanted to evolve as a writer.
My love affair with spectacles has long been regarded by my mother as nothing but a symptom of my dramatic nature.
When I was born, my skin was dark, like my grandfather’s, in whose arms I discovered my first home. Relatives old and new, whose disappointment was being nursed by my parents’ fair complexions, looked from afar as my rotund cheeks melted into the sleeves of my dada’s discolored half-sleeve shirt.
As an Anglophone writer in Bangladesh, I’ve frequently faced the rather inane question of why I write in English.
Ask me not of Grief. For I have been burnt by its friendly fire with blood and bits of oozing mortal flesh spun flaky and ashen by its biting cold breath.
This year’s sessions will be facilitated by eminent academics, writers, and professionals in their field, such as Professor Kaiser Haq, Professor Syed Manzoorul Islam, Professor Azfar Hussain, Professor Shamsad Mortuza, Arifa Ghani Rahman, and Maisha Hossain.
In my creative writing classes, whether at the University of Toronto or the Hermitage Residency in Bangladesh, I emphasise that any student of fiction must first master suspense
Playing with a location that seems real but is not is a tricky line to negotiate, and writer beware: you will be attacked
I became curious as to how the experience of reading might change for someone who studied it for a living, and how the lens of a literature student might differ from that of a creative writing one
Like many veterans, I joined a creative writing MFA program because I wanted to evolve as a writer.
My love affair with spectacles has long been regarded by my mother as nothing but a symptom of my dramatic nature.
When I was born, my skin was dark, like my grandfather’s, in whose arms I discovered my first home. Relatives old and new, whose disappointment was being nursed by my parents’ fair complexions, looked from afar as my rotund cheeks melted into the sleeves of my dada’s discolored half-sleeve shirt.
As an Anglophone writer in Bangladesh, I’ve frequently faced the rather inane question of why I write in English.
Ask me not of Grief. For I have been burnt by its friendly fire with blood and bits of oozing mortal flesh spun flaky and ashen by its biting cold breath.
This year’s sessions will be facilitated by eminent academics, writers, and professionals in their field, such as Professor Kaiser Haq, Professor Syed Manzoorul Islam, Professor Azfar Hussain, Professor Shamsad Mortuza, Arifa Ghani Rahman, and Maisha Hossain.
Participants, including the show’s hosts and guests, picked up discarded pebbles, photo frames, children’s artwork, and other knick knacks—all fragile things collected and displayed by the author.
