October 9: The Good Husband

Time for a little shameless self-promotion here. I am currently working on completing “The Good Husband” on Wattpad right now. I have been writing and reading on Wattpad for quite some time now. I really enjoy it as the social interaction acts as an encouragement to keep writing. I love seeing people enjoying my idea in real time. In many ways, Wattpad is where I write my rough drafts, allowing people to get to know me and my work while I am still in process. 

When the manuscripts are completed they are edited and then made available online at all of your favorite e-book stores. The edited versions have extra content and chapters making it worth your while to buy them even if you have been following along on Wattpad. But, whats more important to me, is the mission behind my writing. 

We need more writing featuring people of color as protagonists. My main characters are not only Muslim, they are from various ethnic and racial backgrounds. They deal with things like drugs and sex and racism and violence, using their religion and ethnicity as a lense, not a filter. I don’t preach in my books and my characters aren’t perfect. They aren’t “ideal” Muslims by any stretch. But, I think we need more of this kind of writing and art to defeat Islamophobia and xenophobia. Having said all of that, here is a small excerpt from the latest chapter in The Good Husband. I hope you enjoy it and read the rest of it in the link below. 

https://embed.wattpad.com/story/73172099

As always, like, comment, and subscribe. I would love to hear from you. 

“I wouldn’t even go to these damned things if you weren’t involved. I hope you know that” Amatullah growled. 

It was the weekend and she desperately needed some QT with her mattress. Running the Institute and planning the Gala was eating up her days and consuming her nights. HOwever, friendship demanded that she support her bestie as she prepared a dozen would-be models for a “modest fashion” show and bazaar that the Islamic Center was hosting. 

“Try again Sajdah, from the top,” Aminah shouted, ignoring her friend’s complaints. She didn’t have the patience to deal with Amatullah’s attitude. She had just under two weeks to turn this collection of teens and twenty-somethings into catwalk queens.

Amatullah stifled a laugh as Sajdah, a gangly girl with a pretty face, stumbled over her own feet and nearly landed face down in a box of decorations off the side of the stage.  the whole scene was hopeless. Half of the girls twitched down the runway, looking like the world’s least coordinated pin-up girls. The other half marched to the beat with about as much grace as a middle-aged dairy farmer. 

Aminah looked at her friend with pleading eyes. 

“Don’t worry, the music will be awesome and the clothes and makeup will more than make up for what they lack in grace, coordination, and skill,” Amatullah said softly.

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