Beyond the Workshop: How a Writing Community Was Born

Beyond the Workshop: How a Writing Community Was Born

By Taqwa Ahmed Alwawi

This Women in Translation Month (#WiTMonth), Palestinian writer Taqwa Ahmed Alwawi explores the creation of a community of writers in Gaza under genocide.

EDUCATION HAS ALWAYS BEEN HELD in the greatest esteem in Palestinian society. The overall literacy rate in Palestine is among the highest in the world, and high school and university graduations are celebrated with the same intense enthusiasm that fuels Palestinian weddings. The focus of our education extends beyond the daily reality of classrooms, textbooks, and examinations towards dreams and possibilities that often feel distant given the severity of our circumstances.

During the ongoing genocide in Gaza, I found myself searching for every pathway to learn and continue creating. I wanted to fill my days with meaningful experiences instead of allowing the painful reality around me to take away my ability to create. Online learning became one of the few ways I could continue growing while connecting with others and imagining future possibilities.

My first challenge was finding a suitable workshop. Online programs accessible to Palestinians in Gaza remain scarce. Certain initiatives exist, yet they often come with particular eligibility criteria or prerequisites for enrollment. We typically discover these through diverse networks: writers sharing opportunities with other writers, university students exchanging announcements, professors recommending programs, and organizations sharing calls on social media platforms.

Courses usually begin with a larger number of participants, sometimes around twenty or twenty-five people. However, the number of people who are able to continue attending regularly often decreases over time. In many cases, only a handful persist until completion due to the limitations people face, particularly internet issues and power outages. Moreover, the psychological strain of surviving sustained violence runs beneath everything.

My overall experience with these courses has been positive despite these challenges. The quality varies by program, but many of them provide learning opportunities that would be otherwise inaccessible. They allow us to learn from professional instructors and connect with people who share similar interests.

I also see these initiatives as vital acts of solidarity. They transcend mere instruction; they send a message that Palestinians in Gaza are still seen and valued. When an individual chooses to share their expertise, energy, and background with us, they create a bridge. Even if only a few can attend live sessions, the impact continues because recorded sessions allow others to watch and learn at their own pace.

Discovering the Picture Books Workshop

One of the most impactful online courses I took was a picture books workshop led by Lebanese author and editor Leila Boukarim, based in Berlin, Germany. A passionate advocate for children’s literature, Leila believes in the power of picture books to nurture kindness and compassion in young readers—a philosophy that shaped the workshop from the very beginning.

I first discovered the workshop through my friend Shahd Alnaami, who shared details via WhatsApp. What attracted me most was that it was the first workshop of its kind available in Gaza. It was an opportunity to explore a new area of writing. I was already interested in crafting children’s literature, especially because of its ability to introduce ideas and emotions through imagination and simple-yet-powerful stories, and I wished to explore this medium in greater depth.

Before the first session, I was nervous. But once the workshop began, those worries quickly dissipated. The space radiated warmth and hospitality, lacking the formality of conventional instruction.

From the very start, Leila was incredibly supportive. She created a space where we felt empowered to experiment and share our ideas. She guided us through our stories, believed in our potential, and celebrated even the smallest steps of progress we made.

One of my favorite parts of the workshop was listening to Leila read children’s books. She had a beautiful voice and a unique way of bringing stories to life. Those moments reminded me that children’s literature goes beyond writing words; it is also about how stories are shared and experienced.

Of course, due to connectivity issues, the group became progressively smaller. Occasionally, electricity shortages made device charging problematic. These issues were not unique to me. Often, live sessions included only Leila, Shahd, Ahmad, and myself. However, this intimate circle became one of the workshop’s most cherished parts. Friendships blossomed, persisting beyond its conclusion.

Learning the Craft of Children’s Literature

Through the workshop, I learned that writing for children is more complex than I previously thought. Leila guided us through the process of creating picture books—from developing characters to finding the right structure to understanding pacing to developing themes, and even how to approach literary agents.

The most profound lesson I learned was the importance of simplicity. Writing for children does not involve minimizing concepts; rather, it expresses profound ideas through clear, accessible language. A straightforward sentence can convey powerful emotion. A simple story can reverberate with meaning.

This workshop motivated me to persist with my own picture book, The Simple Things. The story explores how we sometimes fail to notice the beauty around us until we learn to slow down and truly see it. Through the editing process, Leila helped me improve my manuscript and gave me valuable feedback that strengthened the story.

I am currently seeking a literary agent who believes in this story and can help bring The Simple Things to publication. My aspiration is for this book to reach children worldwide and remind them that even life’s smallest moments can carry wonder.

If someone were to teach this workshop again, I would not change Leila’s approach. Her teaching style and the way she organized the sessions were already wonderful. The main thing I would add is more time for manuscript reviews and detailed feedback.

Why Online Creative Learning Matters

The picture books workshop was a reminder that creativity can survive even in the harshest circumstances. Online initiatives are especially indispensable in Gaza because traveling abroad is extremely challenging, and inviting instructors, writers, or educators to come in person is also impossible.

Educational infrastructure has been deeply damaged by the Israeli occupation, forcing schools, universities, libraries, and other educational spaces to cease functioning or operate under severe limitations. As a result, even local university education has moved online because of the destruction of classrooms and other critical infrastructure. If formal education itself had to adapt to online learning, then creative workshops and specialized courses naturally followed the same path.

These initiatives connect us with people from around the world and allow us to learn from experiences beyond Gaza. They decrease our sense of isolation and offer ways to participate in global conversations. They give us access to knowledge that might otherwise be unreachable.

I also believe these programs should not restrict themselves exclusively to Gazans. Bringing together participants from different countries can make the learning journey even richer. I experienced this personally in an English development course where participants came from Gaza, Saudi Arabia, and Jordan. Learning alongside people from different places showed me that the experiences we carry and the creativity we share can build connections that go beyond geographical boundaries. It would be valuable to have more workshops that include participants from Gaza, Lebanon, and other neighboring countries, creating spaces for cultural exchange and mutual learning.

From Weekly Meetings to a Creative Collective

Our Friday meetings with Leila continued after the workshop ended, and what started as simple conversations about writing and creativity slowly developed into something bigger. Our creative discussions grew into other projects, including zine production and literary collaborations, eventually taking shape as a collective of Palestinian writers and creatives in Gaza, supported by Leila and volunteers from around the world. We came together to support one another, create opportunities, and ensure Palestinian voices could transcend borders, no matter the challenges they faced.

We chose to create zines because they offered a simple, accessible, and independent way to share our work. Unlike traditional publishing, zines could be produced collaboratively with limited resources and allowed us to bring together poetry, essays, testimonies, and personal narratives in a single collection. They gave us the freedom to document our experiences without waiting for the approval of publishers or literary institutions. At first, we relied on Leila’s help with editing and production as we learned the process together. My zine, Gaza Calling: Will the World Pick Up, was one of the first we created, and it quickly became one of my most cherished projects. It allowed me to gather my reflections and observations from Gaza into a single collection.

Building Coastal Lines Press

Creating these first zines revealed something larger. We realized there were many Palestinian writers with powerful stories but too few accessible publishing opportunities. My own experience with publishing showed me how difficult this process can be. Opportunities for writers from Gaza are often limited, responses can take a long time, and rejection is a common part of the journey. What began as a small collaborative effort to produce a handful of zines gradually grew into the idea of building a dedicated platform where Palestinian voices could be published, translated, and shared with readers around the world. That vision eventually evolved into Coastal Lines Press: Zines from Gaza.

The English edition of my zine was edited by Leila and the original layout was designed by Ann-Kathrin Moon. The zine has been translated into several languages, enabling these stories to reach readers across different countries. The German edition was translated by Antje Hosseinzadeh, while the Spanish edition was translated by Ana María Justo Milán, Logaine Navascués, and Andy Vs. The Italian edition was translated by Giorgia Andreolli, Erika Biasizzo, and Clelia Vettori.

My zine brings together eleven pieces—including poetry, personal essays, and articles—that explore memory, loss, education, identity, and creativity under unimaginable conditions. Together, they document my writing journey while preserving stories from Gaza that deserve to be remembered, reflecting both what has been lost and the enduring determination to keep learning and imagining.

One piece is “A Voice That Defied Silence: The Legacy of Dr. Refaat Alareer,” reflecting on Dr. Refaat’s influence and the values he imparted to generations of Palestinian authors. The collection also features my poetic response inspired by his famous poem “If I Must Die,” through which I explore survival and responsibility for carrying lost voices.

This tribute did not remain confined to my own collection. It later gained wider resonance when my poem “If I Must Fall, You Must Rise” appeared within the afterword of the Catalan translation of Dr. Refaat Alareer’s book If I Must Die (initially released in English). The volume was curated by his friend Yousef Aljamal and features a foreword by Palestinian author Susan Abulhawa. For this edition, journalist David Segarra crafted the concluding essay, weaving my verses into the rich tapestry of the late poet’s enduring heritage. Being part of this project means more to me than words can express.

Witnessing my words travel beyond Gaza has been profoundly moving. A collection born during a difficult period of my life was able to reach readers speaking different languages across various parts of the world. It revealed that writing can cross borders even when people cannot. My zine is available in digital and print editions, and interested readers can find more information through Coastal Lines Press.

I also contributed to another special edition zine, Indicia, a collaborative project written by Ahmad E., Shahd Alnaami, Shahd Alnaouq, and me, with layout and design by Sam Howle. Ahmad’s other works include the short story collection Lives on the Shore and the zine Someone’s Daughter.

Indicia explores alternative archives, memory, imagination, land, ecology, and diverse ways of witnessing Gaza beyond singular narratives. It attempts to preserve overlooked details, depicting Gaza not solely through destruction but also through identity, humanity, and collective memory.

A Community Beyond the Workshop

Coastal Lines Press has grown into a global community built by writers, artists, editors, designers, translators, and volunteers from around the world who come together to stand alongside Gazan writers and their families by publishing and sharing their zines.

What distinguishes CLP is its horizontal structure. No single individual dominates decision-making. Writers, editors, designers, translators, and artists collaborate according to their skills and availability. The collective places equal emphasis on accessibility, education, and preservation. It maintains that stories, especially those emerging from communities experiencing erasure, demand protection and dissemination. Every poem, essay, and testimony contributes to a living archive of Palestinian experiences and memories.

I became involved not only as an author but also as a contributor and community member. I discovered firsthand how collaboration can transform individual struggles into collective strength.

CLP taught me that creative spaces are about relationships and rebuilding community, especially when digital platforms replace damaged physical gathering places—upholding the belief that creativity endures, knowledge is to be freely shared, and authentic stories matter.

The picture books workshop became far more than a course, sparking collaborations, friendships, and a lasting network, proving that a single small opportunity can yield global impact. In Gaza, such online learning is a lifeline, reminding us that education opens doors, hope persists through creativity, and beauty can still flourish even in the darkest moments.

Taqwa Ahmed Alwawi is a Palestinian writer, poet, and editor based in Gaza, born in 2006. She studies English language and literature at the Islamic University of Gaza. As a dedicated chronicler and custodian of her people’s memory, she amplifies Gaza’s voice, illuminating stories that are often overlooked or silenced. Her work has been featured on more than 30 leading international platforms and prestigious publications. Her portfolio:https://tqwaportfolio-project.netlify.app/