Interview: Osman Khalid Butt on ‘Siyaah’, screenwriting and things that go bump in the night

Siyaah, an independent horror film produced by Imran Raza Kazmi and directed by Azfar Jafri, recently hit cinemas nationwide. Farheen Zehra got together for a quick Q&A with resident DWLer Osman Khalid Butt, who wrote the screenplay for the film.

FZ: So, a horror story screenplay. How did this happen?

OKB: I’d previously written several scripts [both short and long format] for theatre and had been adapting scripts for stage since my directorial debut Some Like it Hot back in 2007. I’d always wanted to write for film but our industry was ruled by the whims of a gandaasa and an electrocuted bosom, and my Punjabi was reserved to the odd off-color joke copied from desi dubbings of Hollywood movies [see: The Amazing Spiderman]. Recently, with the growth of the indie film industry, opportunities began arising, specifically with short films. In Osman camera2008, I started writing a series of shorts, beginning with a story called ‘Kalika’, which I’m hoping you’ll see on Facebook/Vimeo soon, Insha’Allah. However, I always found one reason or the other not to put my stuff ‘out there’, share it with other aspiring filmmakers/colleagues or just pick up a camera myself and shoot. I’m grateful Imran Kazmi [the producer of Siyaah] gave me a much-needed kick when he brought the concept of the film and scene breakdown in the winter of ’10.

Siyaah was conceived by Zahra Zaman Khan and actually went through three to four screenwriters before it came to me. I’ve had an unhealthy obsession with horror ever since Omar Ali Khan,  entrepreneur and director of Zibahkhana, lent my brother this B-movie called ‘Tourist Trap’ and the still-effective ‘Candyman’ back when it was still inappropriate for me to be watching horror. So when Imran asked me to expand on the concept of Siyaah and to rewrite its screenplay, I happily agreed, self-doubt for once gleefully thrown out the window. It wasn’t an easy process, mind you: bouts of creativity [or so we thought] were followed by weeks where I couldn’t write a single dialogue. I began writing the script beginning February, after getting done with prior commitments, and finished mid-July. Imran was with me every step of the way.

FZ: Which genre of horror appeals to you the most? Is it reflected in this script?

OKB: The tension before the reveal, if you will. Where the music – usually discordant violin – reaches a crescendo and then abruptly stops and you think, but not really, that the danger just might be over. The King of the genre [forgive the bad pun] spoke of terror and its types. Being a huge fan ever since I read ‘It‘, there were moments in the script where I tried to terrorize viewers with what I wrote: specifically with the fear and guilt carried by the principal character, Zara [played by Hareem Farooq], with those instances where Natasha Siyaah floating imagegave that all-knowing smile and you knew she was plotting something terrifying – that edge-of-your-seat suspense. But there were also moments of horror, like in Natasha’s reveal: her brutality… her sheer evil. And of course, there were scenes that employed obvious gimmickry as well: the nods and references to several iconic horror films, pointed dialogue, the occasional slit throat and snakes and bogeymen.

FZ: What aspect of script writing did you find most challenging? What was the process like?

OKB: Procrastination. Had it not been for Imran practically dragging me out of bed, shoving a Red Bull down my throat as he opened up Microsoft Word for me, this script would never have seen the light of day. Also: hitting the proverbial writer’s Great Wall of China.

FZ: Unlike prose, is script writing a more collective effort? At what point did you share your draft with the director?

OKB: Yes, it is and in the case of Siyaah, perhaps even more so. In an industry that’s struggling to find its bearings, and particularly with an indie film, your screenplay does become a collaboration of many minds. For Siyaah, director Azfar Jafri had to improvise with a number of things I’d written. Certain dialogues and situations were changed, including the original ending (which I was aware of and participated in). Then there was the scene where the Pir opens the door to an alternate universe in his attempt to get away from Natasha. That was all Azfar. Improvisation is necessary because there are several constraints that Siyaah shooting stillaccompany a filming process here: budget, schedules, timelines, technical support (and also the fact that your screenwriter has written a practically impossible-to-shoot scene where a body falls from the first floor and crash-lands into a windshield, with the principal character inside the car).

By the time I took on scriptwriting duties for Siyaah, there was an entire plot outline to follow. There were certain elements the producer wanted which I tried to give the old wine/new bottle makeover. Fortunately I was given free rein to construct the sequences, work on character development and present your usual horror-movie tropes in a contextualized, slick, different manner. While writing, I eventually embraced the fact that the movie was essentially a homage to the great horror films, before the gore and torture-porn masquerade started. That’s why you’ll see some subtle, some not-too-subtle pop-culture references thrown in there, including one involving pea soup [The Exorcist]. But mostly, though, it was me sitting in front of my computer, throwing ideas Imran’s way at 3 am whilst staring at a blinking cursor – and then working on constructing said scene when it felt right spoken out loud and envisioned.

Siyaah Hareem FarooqFor me, it was very important to have audiences connect with Zara’s character for that much-needed human element: to feel her disconnect and her silent suffering – and her unique relationship with her husband: easygoing on the surface, but quiet tensions simmering nonetheless. Hareem did a great job at peeling through Zara’s different layers and bringing them out. Zara is not just a ‘scream-queen’; she is a fleshed-out character. I’m glad the reviews have reflected that.

FZ: Is it safe to label you as a horror film writer or will you venture into other genres?

OKB: Oh, the latter, most definitely. Here at DWL, for example, my poetry and prose has been mostly about the macabre. Come to think of it, two of the four plays I directed under my banner were of the thriller/horror genre [The Good Doctor and Let Me In, the latter based on Stephen King’s novella ‘The Mist’] while the remaining two were musicals [Some Like It Hot and Superstar Avatar]. In the two feature films I’ve acted in, one had me regressing into a zombie and featured my own brand of projectile vomit [Zibahkhana, literally translated as Slaughterhouse]. So it’s safe to say that yes, I am most definitely interested in venturing out.

Osman's Humsafar parody made him a household name

Osman’s Humsafar parody made him a household name

Comedy is a particular interest. One of the reasons I started video-blogging/performing comedy sketches on YouTube was to test the waters, so to speak; see what brand of humor worked best with viewers. From satire to dry wit to slapstick and the occasional cross-dressing, writing material for my v-logs has been an insane and yet illuminating process.

What I really want to write, and hopefully direct, is a kitschy Bollywood-esque dramedy. Horror might be considered a niche genre, but that’s not the only reason. I’ve said this so many times now it’s going to be written on my gravestone in all-caps, but I’ve grown up on a staple diet of Bollywood. I love the formula: the meet-cute, the music, the choreographed dance sequences, the complications arising smack before interval, the acoustic, stripped-down versions of the title songs for dramatic effect and the eventual happy ending. Feel-good cinema is where my head’s at these days. Actually that’s a lie. It’s been where my head’s at since I was eight.

 

DWL launches Dastaan Award for writing

Desi Writers Lounge is proud to announce its first monetary prize for writers.

The Dastaan Award, worth 50,000 Pakistani Rupees, will be given to one of the three winners of DWL’s annual short story competition. The title of the award pays homage to the South Asian tradition of the dastaan, which is synonymous with inspirational, world-class storytelling. The prize is open to writers from all over the world.

DWL will celebrate its seventh anniversary in 2013. Founded as a community to nurture writing talent from South Asia, it has painstakingly built up a fraternity of budding writers and created an online magazine to showcase new talent. The Dastaan Award is the first in an envisaged array of incentives for new writers that will be offered by DWL.

For more information on the Dastaan Award, please visit the award page on the Papercuts website.

How DWL got fooled in April

(Posted by Omer Wahaj, Managing Editor of Papercuts)

This year, I decided to play a prank on DWL. The idea had actually come to me last year, in April 2012. Being inspired by Google, YouTube and the various other websites that prank their users on April 1, I thought it would be funny to change the names and descriptions of some of the boards on our forums to parodied versions of the originals. The joke would be meant for our users, who I hoped would enjoy it in keeping with the spirit of the day. I emailed the DWL administrator, Shehla, but the brain spark had come too late and it was already past half the day in Pakistan. We decided that we’d do it next year.

So this year, which is last year’s next year, I emailed Shehla again and we put our evil plan into action. At midnight, Pakistan Standard Time, Shehla made the changes.

 

Original Columns

 

Original Goings Easy

 

Original Workshop

 

Up until 6pm the next day, only two forum members had noticed that anything was different. If anyone else had, they hadn’t pointed it out. That’s when I decided to email Afia, the Editor of our magazine, who was busy vacationing in Sri Lanka completely oblivious to our scheme. I told her that the forums were messed up and we needed to email our webhosting providers to let them know that DWL’s security had been breached. She thought I was April Fooling her and didn’t even bother to log on to the forums. I also tweeted Waqas, another member of our core team. This is how that conversation went:

Screen Shot 2013-04-03 at 11.48.35 PM

Screen Shot 2013-04-04 at 7.58.16 PM

 

So far, our prank did not seem to be working well. But then our luck changed. Shehla was busy moving and she did not have a chance to change the text back. So when Waqas and Afia logged into the forums on 2nd April, the parodied names on the boards were still there. This made the two of them suspicious (and a little panicky). On April 2nd I received an email from Waqas:

Subject: I guess the forums were hacked

So the titles of most of the categories on the forums are changed and some of the descriptions are altered, too. It’s not April Fools’ day any more. We need to find out who did this and how to get the titles and descriptions back to normal.”

To which Afia replied:

“Whoever did this should be on our team. They’re bloody clever with words. Evidently not a standard hacking job. So, my guesses: [3 potential parties that she suspected may have had reason to play a prank on DWL, whose names we cannot reproduce here for obvious reasons].

Would it be a dumb idea to acknowledge that this has happened and ask the person responsible to step forward because we’d like them on our team?”

What began as a prank on our users ended up fooling our own admin team, and they wanted to recruit the prankster! This was the icing on the cake. Made the whole thing completely worth it, and made the following email (forged to look like it had come from our webhost provider) all the more fun to send to them:

“Subject: Re: Forums Hacked?

Hello DWL Team aka Afia and Waqas (aka Vics),

I just looked over the DWL forums and everything appears to be normal. If you think that the forums were hacked and the names of the original threads replaced with “bloody clever words” then please contact Omer and Shehla because they just pulled a bloody April Fools joke on you!

Hahahahahhahahahaah. April fools, the both of you!

High five Shehla!

P.S. Whoever did this is already on your team.

The forums are back to their original state now, but our prank’s been put up on the DWL Milestones thread for all posterity.

Write for Justice – Creative Responses to the Hazara Conflict

Two attacks on the Hazara Shia community in Balochistan, Pakistan, have left over 200 people dead within three weeks. The method of protest that the families of the victims employed shook an entire nation: they refused to bury their dead until their community was promised protection. For several days and nights, men, women and children sat out in the January cold and rain on Alamdar Road in Quetta, guarding the bodies and denying themselves the basic dignity of a decent and timely burial for a loved one. In response, a staggering number of protestors came together to hold sit-ins all over Pakistan and the world, moved by the desperation of the Hazara Shias and demanding justice for them. The protests are ongoing as this post goes up.

We asked for your creative responses to the situation as it unfolds. Our understanding is that as writers we cannot be divorced from events around us, and that – cliched as it may sound – when horror confronts us, the most potent weapon we have is our words. So send us your words. All the entries cannot be published, but please know that we appreciate the intensity of feeling behind each and every person’s contribution. Know that you are being read.

Update: On March 3rd, a bombing in the primarily Shi’ite area of Abbas Town, Karachi, wiped out yet more lives and left double the number crippled and homeless. We have started receiving entries on this latest incident and will let the post evolve accordingly. To those of you who are participating, thank you.

***

Parallel Cities

by Sadia Khatri

Karachi exists as two parallel cities. Same world, two cities. In both, lives are lost daily. But in one, the deaths become stories for people beyond the family and certain close friends: sometimes they are shown on TV, limb by limb, shot by graphic shot, bits of stories. And from there they travel to neighbours, well-wishers, to-be-murderers. Eventually they seep over into the other parallel city, whose people have so far strayed safe of similar wake-up calls. They get word of these deaths, glimpse bits of them on various screens, but never really understand or experience them, even while turning them into cautionary tales for their own neighbours, well-wishers and to-be murderers. They think they know numbness, but they are nowhere near yet. This realization comes only in the form of a forceful eviction into the first city, after a dear one gets shot by one injustice or the other. Meanwhile, the parallel city slowly grows and grows old, letting them in, making room for these people even as it has none. In its heart, it hopes it could seal its borders shut, so that only so much pain could exist without overflowing into the other city, without rendering its parallel city numb too.

***

The Circle of Death

by Farheen Zehra

 

Less than 48 hours ago, the now desolate and mangled apartment building in Abbas Town was teeming with people.

Who were these people?

Weren’t they, like most of us, glued to television sets on Sunday watching our team’s T20 match against South Africa? Maybe some friends had gathered to watch the match together at the neighbourhood restaurant that had just installed a television set.

Some of the women must have been in the kitchen, preparing the evening meal. Weren’t they, like many of us, asking their husbands or sons to get away from the television and get bread and eggs for Monday morning? A few of them must have been grumbling under their breath about the uniforms that still lay un-ironed on the ironing stand. Or maybe about the homework that still hadn’t been completed.

And the children – screaming, fighting, crying, laughing, playing, coloring, drawing, oblivious to the worries of the world. For some Monday was a new beginning in a new school. For others, there was a tough test the next day. Maybe a child had his or her birthday party the day before or the day after.

The call for prayers must be similar in Abbas Town and Clifton. Maybe the loudspeaker of their neighbourhood mosque was too loud. Did the boys leave the match and head for the mosque? Some of them may have used this as an excuse to get out of the house to have a smoke. Did a young boy call out to his friend who was heading towards the mosque to pray for the team?

Who were these people?

They were Shia, and Sunni, and maybe Christians and Hindus. Above everything, they were Pakistanis.

But that doesn’t seem to matter anymore, does it?

Abbas town

***

Quetta

by Razi Haider

 

ہیجڑوں کی تالیوں کی گونج , بیبسوں کاسے
اب کے رسن سے لٹکے ہیں جسم و دل کے لاشے
اس قتلگاہ مذہب میں کچھ سر سے کٹی حوریں
ناچے ہیں ایسے جیسے , کوہٹھے پے ہوں تماشے

 

The echoes of the clapping  eunuchs and the skulls of the  forsaken,

The corpses of the hearts and the souls hang.

On these religious gallows some headless  nymphs

dance as if there is a kerfuffle at the brothel.

 

***

Identity: Sunni, Shia, Pakistani

by Noorulain Noor

My grandmother, a Shia, migrated to Lahore from Amritsar in 1947. At a refugee camp in the newly created Pakistan, she met my grandfather, a Sunni man, broken after the death of his first wife. He married her against the wishes of his family and brought her to his ancestral home in Old City Lahore.

I would like to think that when my grandparents met, they did not ask each other whether they were Sunni or Shia. I would like to think that it simply did not matter. But it did. It mattered to the point that when my grandmother died after 15 years of marriage, my grandfather was forbidden from burying her in the family plot. Since my grandfather’s family was influential in the city, every graveyard in the immediate vicinity refused to accommodate a Shia immigrant’s dead body. Her children cried next to her corpse on a charpoy for hours until a kindly neighbor offered a burial spot in his cellar. And so a neighbor’s house became my grandmother’s final resting place.

My father was raised Sunni by my grandfather, but a son is always partial to what his mother teaches him. A few years ago he put up the Alam on the rooftop of his office building. A report of this recent development reached my husband, who asked me about it. His extended family began to wonder whether I was Shia. I found out that at one point, I was scrutinized by someone who will go unnamed while offering my prayer to glean more information about my religious inclination. The fact that my father wore black all the time and had displayed the Alam openly made some people in my family uneasy.

I decided to have a chat with my father about this. I was furious with him because of several other things that a father and daughter are bound to disagree on, and so I introduced this topic as a way to fuel the raging fire.

“So, are you going around as Shia now?” I barked.

“What? Where is this coming from?” He asked.

“Well, I am told you have the Alam at your office now.”

“I do. And what I practice is none of your damn business.”

He slammed the phone down. I deserved that and more. I cannot believe that I had the audacity to ask him this question just to hurt him, even though I have always identified myself as both Shia and Sunni because of my grandparents, technicalities and subdivisions and religious decrees be damned.

This is the extent to which sectarian discrimination is ingrained into the hearts and minds of Muslims in Pakistan. I am admitting my weakness in that moment. I am deeply, nay, horrifically ashamed of the question I asked my father and the way in which it came out – accusatory – as if he had committed a sin.

Today, I am proud of my heritage as I have always been. I am both Sunni and Shia. I am Muslim. I am human. For god’s sake we are all human. And I am afraid for my friends and family in Pakistan. I am afraid for my father who still has the Alam perched on his office building. I am afraid for my friends whose names identify them as Shias, easy targets for a fanatic’s bullet.

But I will not let my fear silence me. I am Shia and Sunni and Pakistani. And I am standing alongside the families of all those who were massacred. The demands of the nation are simple: The culprits must be punished; they must be brought to justice; sectarian violence must have serious consequences; Shia murders must be stopped. Now.

***

Target Profiles and Na-Maloom Afraad

by Fahad Naveed

 

I live in a world where physicality costs people their lives,

a world where the target’s profile is crystal clear,

eyes slightly smaller than mine, complexion slightly lighter

he may be spotted easily in a crowd.

I live in a world where the killer remains ‘na-maloom’,

he need not be physically present to kill,

he cannot be spotted, ’till he uses his bragging rights,

’till he takes ‘responsibility’ of the attack on the news

I live in this world only because my physicality allows me to

because my features do not match the target profile, just yet

***

My reflection

by Taha Kehar

I cannot see my reflection –
Bigotry has made me invincible.

I cannot see my reflection –
Fear has strengthened me.

I cannot see my reflection –
Hostility has given me control.

I cannot see my reflection –
Injustice has become a ray of hope.

I cannot see my reflection –
Defeat has taught me how to win.

(c) Ali Khurshid/Light House (via Humans of Karachi)

(c) Ali Khurshid/Light House (via Humans of Karachi)

***

A Cinquain

by Saima Abbas

Hazaras

Humble, sorrowful

Crying, pleading, peaceful

They cannot be ignored

Humans

551546_489629364430003_1938026687_n

***

Fade

by Mariam Shoaib

I could turn up the volume on the news, but there are bills to pay. The television anchor repeats the alert as I grasp for the car keys.

News keeps  breaking, breaking new  records of  domestic terror and drone-aided calamities.  Quick glance – is it Peshawer, or Karachi?  If I wait any longer, the banks will close, and who can bear late charges in this economy?

I could slow down my car at the chowk, weaving around the men, women, children protesting, asking ‘what are you demanding today?’

But I have been in line for CNG for over 3 hrs, and  still need my job, so in the rear view mirror signboards and chants, like numerous Pakistani lives, fade away.

My voter’s registration application lies blank and menacing on the desk. I would turn it in, and vouch for democracy, but I am out the door…

… Tasbih in hand, tears cloud the path to my brother’s janazah.

Aaj Quetta jal raha hai – Today Quetta burns, again.

***

A star-studded launch for a rising star

Debut author Shazaf Fatima Haider’s humorous novel on arranged marriage – titled How It Happened – had its official Pakistan launch today in Karachi. The event, which was organised by the Lyterati Society at the Lyceum School just off Do Talwar, was a impressive affair as book launches go, with about 300 hundred people in attendance. The launch attracted some big names from the industry, including Pakistan’s most beloved television playwright, Haseena Moin, DSC prize-winning author H.M. Naqvi, and Afzal Ahmed Syed, who is one of the foremost contemporary poets writing in Urdu today.

The event was moderated by our favourite Pakistani author and friend of DWL, the recently Man Asian Prize shortlisted Musharraf Ali Farooqi. Farooqi added a good dose of humour to the conversation, entirely fitting with the mood of the book. Farooqi and Haider touched upon topics as diverse as crazy rishta stories to the impact of the author’s own ancestral history on the book’s characters. Since the novel is a family drama, the moderator asked Haider at one point whether her family saw itself in the book. She quipped that each of her sisters believed themselves to be the character of Zeba, who was supposed to be very beautiful.

Haider reading from her novel

Haider reading from her novel

The launch included a reading by the author and a brief but lovely tribute by Haseena Moin, who praised Shazaf Fatima for having written a novel that acknowledges how times change and forges a path forward for women from her generation. Haider’s book is slated to be a hit in a market starved for readable, feel-good fiction and is sure to strike a chord with South Asian women who’ve suffered the classic rishta-trolley parade ad nauseum. Indeed, Liberty Books had set up a table stacked with copies of the novel at the launch, all of which were sold out even before attendees were done with their tea and samosas.

Desi Writers Lounge is proud to be partnering with Shazaf Fatima Haider in a blog contest to celebrate the 200th anniversary of Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen’s classic novel on marriages in Regency-era England. The winner will receive a hardcover copy of How It Happened. Details on the contest can be found here.

Celebrate Austen with DWL

January 2013 is the 200th anniversary of one of English literature’s greatest social satires: ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen. To mark the occasion, Desi Writers Lounge is running a blog contest. What’s the funniest true story you’ve got about people getting married? It could be your own story or someone else’s. Botched proposals, unreal rishtas, failed elopements, family feuds, last minute changes of heart – we want to hear it all. Wit and style will be rewarded.

Send your entries of 500 words or less to editor.papercuts@desiwriterslounge.net. The best entries will get published on the DWL blog (that’s what you’re reading right now) and the winning entry will also receive a copy of the funniest new book in town about arranged marriage: How It Happened by Shazaf Fatima Haider (Penguin India). Deadline: 29th January.

Time to get funny, peeps.

 

Theme announcement for Papercuts Vol. 12

These are ruthless times. (Want more proof? Here.) And being a publication that keeps up with the times, we’ve come up with this theme for our next issue: Dog Eat Dog.

Papercuts magazine is soliciting poems, stories and essays about success that comes at any cost: about cutthroat competition, about ambition that knows no bounds. You can write about politics, religion, status or plain old gossip – we don’t care. Just show us how things get ugly.

Questions? See the submission guidelines. Deadline: 15th May.

In case you haven’t gotten it yet, here’s another video of people punching people. Happy writing!

Take us back to where it all started

Ever wondered what the back-story behind something was?

What would Mr. and Mrs. Bennet’s courtship have been like? What was life like in the March household before the Civil War? Who wrote the Vogon report that recommended building  a hyperspace bypass through Earth? Papercuts magazine asks you for the story behind the story.

Send us your poems and your fiction on the theme ‘Prequel’ by November 21st, 2012 at editor.papercuts[at]desiwriterslounge[dot]net. If you wish to write an article for us, please contact our Managing Editor at the same address to discuss ideas.

Please read the submission guidelines before contacting us and circulate the below image widely. Let’s see how creative everyone can get!

 

Submission Deadline for Vol. 10 Approaching

Reminder going out that the deadline for submissions for Vol. 10 is May 15th, 2012! The submission guidelines are available on the Papercuts website.

The next issue is a tribute issue for modern fiction. We want to recognise the influence and inspiration that we’ve all drawn as writers from the modern era – be it pulp fiction or the postmodern genre or anything in between. Who or what has been iconic for you? We want to celebrate that.

As usual, the theme is general and wide open to interpretation. Write a story in the style of your favourite author. Write a story ON your favourite author. Write the next Prufrock, or make a passing mention to Prufrock. It doesn’t matter how much you do or how you do it – we just want to see you have fun with this!

Good luck and get going!!!

To Tweet, or What to Tweet, That is the Story

Guest post by Omer Wahaj, DWLer and Articles Editor at Papercuts

It was sometime last year that I introduced a topic about writing 6-word stories on the Breaking the Block thread on DWL forums. The idea was neither mine nor something new with the first 6-word story allegedly attributed to being written by Ernest Hemingway in the 1920s. The exercise was that each story, in its 6 words, must have conflict, action, and resolution; e.g.: “Protagonist hurt. Antagonist killed. The end.” I thought it would be a good exercise and that people might enjoy the challenge. The thread got a good response in the beginning with various members posting some really nice stories. But then it started annoying some people, some writers went off on weird tangents, others lost interest and the thread pretty much died.

A couple of months ago, someone mentioned that it would be a better idea to have stories that could not be more than 140 characters, as in a tweet on Twitter. Afia posted a link to this book (http://www.executiveseverance.blogspot.com/2011/12/chapter-1.html) that someone had written on Twitter composed entirely of tweets. I thought it would be a good idea to start something similar on DWL and have people post tweet-sized stories.

Then came the technical problem of limiting the post size, which was important, as it was much easier to count 6 words than to be able to keep track of 140 characters. I thought it would be a good idea to reduce the box to 140 characters to make it easier for the writers. However, I found out that that couldn’t be done for one particular thread and if we decided to limit the posting size, it would have to be across the forums for all threads, which would not only be kind of stupid but totally foolish as well.

That’s when I thought that I’d be a copycat and write my own Twitter novel. I started thinking about it and the more I thought about it, the more I thought it could be done. Many ideas began brewing in my head and I’d record them as they came to me. I had made a Twitter account a long time ago but had hardly ever used it. By February 1, I had enough ideas to begin, had somehow amassed some 20 odd new followers, and that’s when I officially started The Just-In Case Files of Shandar Misttry, Inventive Generalist. It’s been going steady since then and I just completed the second chapter yesterday.

This series of tweets follows our protagonist, Shandar Misttry, an investigative journalist for Chay TV in Karachi, as he fights vampires, foils a mad scientist’s plans, becomes a zombie lover, and does a lot more cool stuff that I have not quite entirely thought of yet.

So, click those mice and join in the fun and adventure. Follow me on Twitter @omerwahaj (http://twitter.com/omerwahaj) to follow the exploits of Shandar Misttry as they happen!