Post image for Harem girls for sale: the making of Expat Harem

Eighteen months. Two expatriate American writers in Istanbul.

We created a feminist travel anthology, landed a North American book deal and dual language editions from Turkey’s strongest publisher, while winning representation at one of New York’s oldest literary agencies. How did we do it?

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

Post image for Writing to save your life: defining moments become your story

When a stamp in her passport reads “Wife not permitted to work”, writing saves the sanity and career of a serial expat


Balkans by Elif Bayraslı

Can there be honor in defeat? How does your culture define national honor?


Post image for How do you say…me?

A Brit in the Netherlands finds a foreign language is a hurdle to being true to herself in her relationships with locals, family and friends.


Cobblestain by S.Koehler

When a longtime expat in Prague takes a photo course she cannot pretend to be Czech — and gains respect for the tourists which throng her city’s streets.


Post image for Passion plays: defending our identity and a future that looks like us

Most of us would agree that passion fuels our aims better than discipline or elbow grease alone. Passion’s dark side — anger — may be the best defense of our identity, and a future that looks like us.


Post image for A holistic approach to your online presence

Not getting hired, promoted, asked to speak, invited to participate? Not getting read, funded, selected, noticed? You’re not being recognized. Here’s how you can change that.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

packing for the Grand Tour

If each tiny, agile step forward is a step away from something else — guaranteed not to be there forever, trustily waiting for our return– we need to consider with extra care where we’re headed and when we choose to go.


Post image for Is that a pain cry? What we want to hear about death

Can grief-illiterate Americans grieve in public — and out loud? Restricting who we talk to about death can cut us off from people unafraid to hear about it, perhaps those even able to console us.