On ‘Anglowaiti’ Literature
This is an edited version of the speech I shared at Gulf University for Science and Technology’s GELL Creative Writing in May 2013.
Because I have been writing about what it means to be an Anglowaiti for a decade, many of these posts recycle language and arguments. To make this series more cohesive, therefore, I have tried my best to excise paragraphs that repeat content verbatim in different essays, talks, interviews, and so on. I kept some of these repetitive paragraphs in texts only when I felt that they were integral to the body of the piece. I also smoothed out my delivery — partly for myself (what’s the point of growth and of writing ephemeral works if I can’t revise them in the future?), and partly for my readers: to facilitate comprehension. My aim, after all, is to archive and finally let go of a decade’s worth of creative contemplation to free myself up for my next stage.
What is ‘Anglowaiti’ Literature?
Anglowaiti literature is literature in the broadest sense of the word, created by an Anglowaiti for an Anglowaiti audience. It handles Anglowaiti themes, places, characters, and events. The first part of the word — Anglo — refers to the language in which the text is presented. The second part — waiti — is the suffix from the word Kuwaiti, which pertains to the focus of the piece.
An Anglowaiti writer is thus any person, born or raised in Kuwait, who writes about their lived experiences, here, using English as his or her language of self-expression.
I coined the term to give Anglowaiti writers a sense of belonging to a collective, because, today, Anglowaiti writers feel alone and ostracized from Kuwait’s mainstream culture, writing for themselves, rarely for others. Even our readers feel separated, since those who purchase an Anglowaiti’s book, will not buy another’s. Therefore, it feels as though flattery drives these sales, not genuine interest in the text, because most readers of Anglowaiti literature are in fact related to the authors of the books they buy. An Anglowaiti’s fan base is therefore comprised of a mishmash of relatives, friends, and acquaintances — rather than genuine fans.
Readers in Kuwait who are capable of reading in English often regard Anglowaiti projects as mediocre imitations of Western texts.
Their argument, that the works published in this field are littered with errors, both structural and grammatical, is, unfortunately, an accurate description of most Anglowaiti texts today (including my own). Due to the lack of demand, most writers resort to self-publishing, and since their texts do not generate profit, this makes professional editing services expensive, thus Anglowaiti writers often sacrifice this editorial step on their path toward sharing their words. And when writers do request edits, most end up affording only the bare minimum before publishing the final product.¹ While English is ubiquitous in Kuwait, its proliferation is not based on a mastery of the language, but, rather, on the inevitability of its usage. In other words, despite people’s ungrammatical employment of English here, the language continues to serve as an organic vehicle of self-expression.
This means that we begin this speech by agreeing with the detractors of Anglowaiti literature.
Many Anglowaiti projects are in fact poorly written because writers do not think anyone reading their texts will judge them — in fact, hardly anyone ever reads their words to begin with. The quality is also low because there’s no commercial drive and thus no motive toward excellence, for example, apart from vanity presses there are currently no publishers seeking Anglowaiti stories, poems, or creative nonfiction.
In other words, today, Anglowaiti literature faces three interrelated problems.
- Only a small segment of Kuwaitis read English texts, and those who do would rather read Western literature than what they believe is a mediocre facsimile.
- Because Anglowaiti literature lacks a built-in audience, international publishers would rather not risk their capital on Anglowaiti projects. The only way that a printing press would take on Anglowaiti manuscripts, therefore, is by asking authors to pay for all the expenses themselves and to market or sell their works on their own.
- Because Anglowaiti writers are aware that neither publishers nor readers care about their works, they have been lax with the quality of their final products, wondering, Why pay for professional editing, publishing, and marketing, when their books won’t make them any money?
I would like to emphasize, however, that this just means that Anglowaiti literature is nascent, still crawling out of its hefty obstacles, hopeful about building a stable foundation in the near future.
It is my belief that Anglowaitis must stick together, to share and cultivate our readership, challenge one another by actively improving the standards of our products, and to create enough competition among ourselves to draw publishers and a steady readership to our texts.
To begin this journey, I ask all Anglowaitis to stop and ask themselves:
- Why they write in English in the first place?
- What they’ll write about?
- And how they’ll tackle the subject?
Because I am aware that writing in English in Kuwait is not a matter of writing in the colonizer’s tongue, I’m always aggravated when Kuwaitis ask me, “Why write in English when you’re a Kuwaiti?”
I am a Kuwaiti — born and raised in Kuwait. However, I studied in English schools and earned a BA in English Language and Literature. I am, furthermore, currently enrolled at Kuwait University’s Master’s Program of Comparative Literature — a program taught entirely in English.
It makes absolutely no sense today to consider people like me — Anglowaitis — an illegitimate group of Kuwaitis: pretenders, or imposters, or westernized, because we were born out of Kuwait’s infrastructure.
Anglowaitis have opinions and stories to tell about vast areas in the country that have been hidden from view because of the language barrier on the one side, and the inherent potential of Anglowaiti voices and perspectives to challenge the myth of identity in Kuwait, on the other, a myth that is backed by economic and political apparatuses.
This is why, I believe it is important for Anglowaitis to think about why they write in English, what they write about, and how they write.
Before I end this speech, allow me to share 10 lessons I’ve learned so far in my writing journey. My hope is that some of these points may serve other Anglowaitis who are only beginning to dabble in creative writing themselves.
As I have mentioned above, it’s true that Anglowaitis have barely any opportunities to improve their craft in this country. If I’m not mistaken, this GELL Conference at GUST is perhaps the first institutional event in Kuwait’s history to address creative writing in English. Do not be disheartened, however, since we live in the Internet age, and the connections we make online may help unravel barriers in the physical world.
- (1) Start a blog.²
You may not have any readers in the beginning. But that’s a good thing. It means you can experiment, fail, and make every mistake before you publish that book you spent years writing. Most importantly, starting a blog will give you online visibility. As you test your writing limits, you’ll eventually find your niche, style, or writing voice. When that happens, agents and editors will come to you.
- (2) Contact other Anglowaiti writers.
If they are better than you, you’ll learn from them. If they aren’t, you’ll help them and thus grow your network. Our aim is to escape the egoistic character of Anglowaiti literature and to build communities of readers and writers.
- (3) Explore all the platforms that the Internet can offer.
You’re writing for a local audience, but literature is borderless by nature. Hence, expand. Use social networks and other platforms to showcase your vision, gather like-minded colleagues, and communicate with readers from different parts of the world.
- (4) Read.
I’m not only talking about books. Do read full books, certainly. But read other things as well. For example, subscribe to literary magazines, newsletters of your favorite authors, or informative writing blogs and websites.
- (5) Join creative writing programs in your hometown, online, or abroad.
Because these programs allow you one-on-one sessions with editors, agents, or writing professionals, they can help you improve and develop your writing style.
- (6) Review the books you read, especially those you like.
You will begin to think about literature analytically. Knowing the mechanics of writing will help you compose your own works.
- (7) Submit your work to foreign publications.
Don’t just publish for the sake of doing so. In the beginning of your Anglowaiti writing career, you can do two things simultaneously.
- You can experiment in order to discover your writing voice, in other words, what motivates you to write, how you write, what you write about, etc.
- You will gradually build a body of work.
Acceptances from foreign editors do not determine your value or your worth as a writer. They are, rather, indicators that your work is seen and desired by someone else.
- (8) Do not fear the rewriting process.
Rewrites are important, especially after receiving comments from beta readers, editors, or literary professionals. In other words, don’t cling dogmatically to the preliminary shape of your story, poem, or essay.
- (9) Don’t let your goal be international recognition and commercial success.
Think more deeply about the act of writing itself and the artist’s role in our global world. Make your writing do something beyond generating superficial success.
- (10) Don’t expect readers.
Not yet, anyway. Develop your writing first and get to know the people who’ll become members of your writing community.
Conclusion
In sum, Anglophone writers in Kuwait (or Anglowaitis) are not anomalies for writing in English — they are natural products of their time and place.
However, these writers still need to be conscious of their political standpoint. Writing in English in Kuwait is not a neutral endeavor, even though it is an organic one.
Thank you for listening, and thank you GUST for hosting GELL Creative Writing. I’m available on many social networks so don’t hesitate to interact with me. My website is www.nadafaris.com.
I’d love to hear from you.
Happy writing.
And hang in there!
Notes
[1] Dhari Buyabes (the man in the white national garb sitting to my right) shared his own experience writing and self-publishing: What’s Wrong with Faris? Buyabes explained that in fact he didn’t even know that there where multiple types of editing. His personal experiences fit in with the points I ended up making after him.
[2] I wouldn’t recommend starting a blog today. Ten years ago, our creative cyber landscape looked different. The main social media channels (Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram) were still in their early phases, and there were barely any professional writing channels with in-built audiences (and thus a higher opportunity for connecting). Back then, Blogger, Live Journal, and website hosted blogs were crucial for someone like me who craved engaging in conversations on writing craft (and not just critical theory) in a place where those conversations were nonexistent. In Kuwait, all schools and departments taught students how to read other people’s literature, but there weren’t any that taught students how to write their own (unless they used Arabic). Some writing classes were taught sporadically, but (1) unlike reading literature, these classes were arbitrary and did not abide by any educational standards, and (2) most were taught by English language teachers instead of professional writers. Nowadays, aspiring Anglowaitis have access to a whole world of knowledge and networking possibilities. If I were to give this speech today, as someone who puts their money where their mouth is, I’d replace “Start a blog” with “Download Medium.”
