Okay, writers! Here's a short video with a few tips on character creation. 

​You have an idea, maybe even an outline, maybe even the first few chapters, but that initial enthusiasm for writing your novel has worn off. Hear from author Katherine Russell on how to develop a mindset that will get you to the finish line.

On religion and culture

Religion and culture are so intertwined that they can be difficult to pull apart in a fiction setting. The informed reader will try to see these distinctions. In this book, I am not speaking for all Islam or representing global norms of Islam. Rather, I am portraying life in a small, 1960s village in Bangladesh where cultural practice and religion intermingle in their own unique way. Look anywhere, and you will see that culture brings nuances despite the defined religion. Shamanism, the evil eye, and mystic healing are not accepted practices of Islam, but they are cultural practices in certain parts of Bangladesh. Again, remember the setting: this is something that has changed drastically since the 1960s.
 
On Neocolonialism

Nazli Kabria, author of Muslims in Motion: Islam and National Identity in the Bangladeshi Diaspora, writes: "Informed by a potent nationalist narrative in which Bengalis struggle and prevail over foreign oppression, Bangladeshi identity may be an important source of pride." This evident pride and cultural perseverance is something that drew me to write about this setting of Bangladesh in our imperialistic world.

Without Shame mainly illustrates the concept of cultural imperialism. The idea of the “white savior” is not new, but it is a necessary perspective to continue exploring and challenging. This is the perspective of Rodney, who is almost comically naïve and entitled in his efforts to “change” Sariyah’s village. His flaws - in how he interacts and observes - exist as a statement on neocolonialist attitudes; and his relationship with Sariyah is a microcosm of colonialism itself which begins with the courting, the interfering, the unfulfilled promises,  the inevitable destruction, and the colonizer absconding from the mess.

Colonial influence is also important to consider in the context of East versus West Pakistan. After British colonial rule ended, territorial lines were drawn to separate a "Hindu" India from a "Muslim" Pakistan (the lack of thought that went into the Radcliff Lines is worth noting). The "habits" of colonizing did not end there, as West Pakistan took a dominant position over the East. Though East Pakistan had a higher population, West Pakistan politically controlled them. They also set language standards (an Urdu mandate) that threatened the mobility of Bengali-speaking citizens. This isn't my way of pointing fingers but it is about discussing the perpetual effects of colonialism, and now neocolonialism.
 
On the author’s Western perspective

While there were many postcolonial settings I could have drawn from, I chose Bangladesh because its history embodies the effects of imperialism. Of course, I am most familiar with the cultural values of my American character Rodney, whom I developed as mockery of the “white savior” archetype. Then another character emerged: Sariyah. I found myself walking in another woman's shoes in a culture with different - yet ofttimes very similar - values and truths from my own. I did this because I viewed her voice as more important than Rodney’s. I wanted to portray what it is to be an imperialized culture in a neocolonial world, where my own country is ever the imperialist.

Excited about some new reviews of Without Shame:

"Katherine Russell has done a very fine job with her novel. The characters are plausible and the events as well as the themes the novel touches upon will provide many interesting discussion points among readers."
​-Book Fabulous

​"She [Russell] brings up pertinent issues of culture and language and how Colonialism affected people’s lives on these different levels. Moreover, she begs the question as to whether foreign education in developing countries actually works for the people or against them. I particularly enjoyed the intellectual debates between characters in the novel. One of the main characters Sajib, for instance puts forth the question as to whether English really is the language of progression and whether American education in East Pakistan was valuable or if it served to further strip the people from their culture...The political angle of the book did not overshadow the narrative and because it was so naturally written as part of the main story, it was not boring at all, instead it proved to be insightful."​
-Muslim Women Exposed

"This book feels like it is set out for greatness. The book is written in a beautiful, almost poetic style, with a complexity of themes that I can imagine perfectly fitting in to a heated literary discussion as a high school or even a university setwork."
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-The Jozi WAHM Guide to Everything

"Sariyah...starts working as a maid at Martin House, an American compound that brings American volunteers to teach the village people about agriculture, home economics, history, English and hygiene. There, she meets Rodney, a clueless, entitled, privileged (my opinion) teacher, who goes to teach in an attempt to avoid being drafted into the army...He thinks that things need to change in Eastern Pakistan and he thinks he knows how change should occur. He wants to bring “development” about...I saw the story as that of clashing patriarchies....white Western privilege is well and alive and that the rest of us continue to be subjects of “discovery,” “development” and of “saving.”"

-A good analysis of Rodney's role in the book, by Eren of Muslimah Media Watch

In the final weeks of waiting to see my finished book, I'm full of excitement, anticipation, and - the writer's curse - self doubt. Did I write a book that my friends and family will think is a worthy read? Did I create a work of fiction that will move complete strangers and provoke thought? Will it catalyze the right conversations? Every writer, at some point, is shaken by these fears. We're all afraid of being thought of as frauds (someone, somewhere is not going to like your style, or where you place your commas, or how you described that one character's 18th century cottage), slid under a microscope, every word scrutinized. That is because a good writer is also a harsh self-critic; it is rare to feel something is complete, absolute, and perfected. It has less to do with modesty than it does with a fear that all this time, energy, thought, research, and craziness you poured into a project might fall flat. If a tree falls and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

I wanted to bring someone's courage to life through Without Shame. It wasn't a Muslim girl, or a woman from a small Bengali village, or a naive English teacher determined to fix the things he doesn't understand - those details came from my curiosity about these lives and a desire to walk in their shoes. But I wanted to bring to paper what I know about pain, loss, and the things that can hinder or feed the human spirit. That includes what I believe about colonialism, and the things we continue to colonize. Of course, writers are also afraid of our work getting misinterpreted or read literally, but I can't influence my intended neocolonial interpretation indefinitely.

First, I must trust that I have made it to this point through diligent work. I deleted more than I wrote. I sculpted carefully while I shaped my own worldview - the process of writing was a process of growth, of forming my own ideas. I reached out to Bengalis. I spent endless hours in libraries, getting lost in personal accounts by Peace Corps volunteers. How else do I have these strange facts floating in my mind, that I needed to use the word thana for "village" because the story takes place before the 1980s, before the word for "village" changed to upazila. These things you have to ask questions about when you write on a different era that you didn't live through.

But secondly, as I await the launch of Without Shame, I must return to the poem that propelled me. When I lost direction, I returned to the words of Rabindranath Tagore. The poem below inspired and informed my themes and the truths I wanted to convey. It is inspiration for how I want to live life, and how I want my country to be. I found this poem after I began my novel, but it instantly sparked my purpose in writing it. You'll find these words in the front pages...

"Live patiently in the world knowing that those who hate you are more numerous than those who love you."

-African proverb

This might be a statement on human nature: how jealousy and grudging can overpower love, how most people in the end are self-interested. But I am reading this quote in a time when group hatred is pronounced and global. It rings in my ears as literal.

My forthcoming novel Without Shame is a push for religious tolerance. Which is something I thought - no matter what culture or sect you practice from - would be a favorable lens on Islam in a time where you see headlines like "Secularist blogger brutally murdered in Bangladesh - the fourth one this year by Islamic groups." But my eyes were opened to something the other week, and it has to do with the quote mentioned above.

I asked a Pakistani writer to review Without Shame, and after reading it, she declined. I believe she is Sunni, and she did not approve of my inclusion of Sufism and Bengali cultural practices, as she explained, "It's not mainstream Islam and many of their practices aren't backed by Quran and sunnah...there is no concept of evil or good spirits in Islam, or healing by chanting, etc. It is especially disturbing because at least some of the characters in the story (for instance Sajib) are religious and seem to have knowledge about their faith because they are educated, yet they are following and/or condoning these practices." She demanded I change the book or at least make a note that the book is not talking about true Islam, stating that non-Muslim readers "will take it as face value and grow in their belief that Muslims are weird, irrational superstitious, etc."

First off, the basic thing this writer missed is that I am not speaking for all Islam; I am observing a part of Bangladesh. 

I sincerely believe that my readers are smarter than to take the book as a face-value representation of all Muslims. I think the general public has a basic understanding of Islam (its tenets are taught in grade school and high school world history classes), and when misconceptions arise, they are not over a belief that Muslims are superstitious in any way - rather, I think most prejudices by Westerners revolve around a misguided idea that Islam is a violent, intolerant religion. (An argument can be made that humans are inherently intolerant and violent, and our belief systems either keep our nature in check or are used as an outlet for it - reminding you there are violent extremist Buddhists, Hindus, Atheists, Christians, what have you, but that is a discussion for another day).

Shamanism, the evil eye, and mystic healing are all practiced in Bangladesh, even by Muslims. It's my hope that my readers are analytical enough to see that Sufism and Bengali Mysticism must all co-mingle with Islam in the book as a point of cultural accuracy, and they are equally legitimate practices, not "weird."

Furthermore, the book is not meant to be a statement on "the" Islam; it isn't meant to explain mainstream practices or sway the reader one way or another, except to think. It is a novel about a small, 1960s village in Bangladesh, where cultural practice and religion intermingle in their own unique way. Look anywhere, and you will see that culture brings nuances despite the defined religion - you will see that in Saudi Arabia, women can't drive, but Muslim women become doctors and leaders in other parts of the world; or you will see that 97% of (Christian and Muslim) girls in Egypt suffer from female genital mutilation, a practice people accidentally construe with Islam, but many Muslim and Christian activists are working ardently to change this. Hopefully, as people read about other cultures and religious nuances, they will be MORE equipped to distinguish religious practices from cultural tradition and not make generalizations about entire religious groups on a global scale.

This is a fundamental tenet of my book: Culture is inseparable from religion - they are a part of each other. When East and West Pakistan were formed, it was based on a theory that all Muslims were the same, so they should live under the same Pakistan. Let's take a guess if that worked...

No. Though they are majority Muslim, Bengalis had a separate and distinct way of life that didn't mesh with 1960s Pakistani law. On top of it, they were seen as inferior; they were abused and taken advantage of, re-colonized by West Pakistan, and that led to revolution. In a big way, this writer's feedback served to further validate this anti-theory, especially as a Pakistani Muslim woman reading about Bengali practices.

The most perturbing thing about this other writer's response is that she wanted to dictate my portrayal of Muslims in Bangladesh to fit her belief in the "proper" Islam. At the very least, she said, I should have a note in the foreword telling my readers how to distinguish between culture and religion.

Literature is supposed to reveal a part of life. It is not definitive. It is not the template of all reality. It is a peephole into someone else's truths. It is an insight into our connection, our differences, our humanity. It is supposed to show, not dictate. Hopefully, through that, we can become a more tolerant, empathetic, and loving people. But those who will read it will take it as they will.

I am gearing up to read the first round of edits on my novel, Without Shame. I'm realizing my skin has gotten thinner since college. Perhaps I feel more vulnerable to failure. I used to do four workshops in a week. Whenever it was your turn to get workshopped, you sat there silently for a half hour as twenty other writers critiqued your work. Even if they said things you disagreed with or they completely misinterpreted your work, you had to swallow it. There was no rebuttal. A writer's easiest defense was to ignore their words. But I took every comment into consideration, even if it was to better understand general audiences or the possible interpretations a person could take from my work. 

There is nothing healthier than that for a writer. Criticism keeps us on the ground, looking at our work critically so that we might bring it closer to perfection. In fact, I often shrug off compliments, or I take them very lightly, because I'm worried they'll destroy me - I know that a big ego blocks improvement, and it blinds artists from seeing themselves and the world honestly. It's good to get compliments here and there, though; they might offer some reassurance that you don't completely suck. Still, we must always continue reaching for our better selves.

As I prepare myself to read those edits - which very likely will slash up this novel I've nursed for five years - I will keep these words in mind: "There's no good or bad. There's practice or no practice." -Based on an oracle Chinese saying and adapted by a modern-day American, my husband. (He's the lucky one who gets to talk me through this!)

So I'm getting in the mindset. Tomorrow I will read over my editor's comments, and I will take them in stride, and my writing will get stronger. I will put my novel before my ego. I will remember that writing is and always will be a practice - finishing the novel wasn't the end game for me as a writer, and neither was finding a publisher. It is the role of my profession to continuously improve.