I don’t think this comes from pure arrogance, even if it might sound that way. Most times, the process is more innocent than that – a writer thinks, ‘this topic calls for a certain register that I must meet through showing the reader how informed I am.’ It’s often a genuinely good instinct. However, it can also come from wanting to signal to other writers and industry peers that you’re more linguistically capable “in comparison.”

Good intentions or not, the result is the same. When the vocabulary doesn’t match what the topic and audience need, you create a distance with your readers. And readers can feel this distance whether or not they can name it anything beyond “meh” or “off-putting.”

So whenever I approach a topic, I ask myself: who is my audience? Is there a new audience I am wanting to invite as well? I might personally reach for certain words to describe something, but are they appropriate or necessary for this piece, my audience, and the publication’s tone?

🐌 The (Long) Slug 🐌

Think of words the way you’d think about food and nutrition. When you understand language as something limited (beginner or not), you may moralise words and sort them into “good” or “bad” categories as some people do with food. You’d think 1-2-3 words are silly, dumb, beneath me. But 4-5-6 are smart, intellectual, and worth using. But instead of that scale, it’s best to ask, “does this word fit the context?”

For example, Gen Z slang can feel silly on paper, but what if the piece needs it? Can I use it casually with some wordplay? If I can’t do that and I’m not fluent in Gen Z lingo, then should I use it as a reference? For example, in my WIRED piece “The Rise of War Memes: When Humour and Conflict Collide”, I wrote “The song “Bazooka” went viral, with users lip-syncing to: “Rest in peace my granny, she got hit by a bazooka.”” – it’s true, this is what’s been happening, and it must be documented for the absurdity it is. However, given the subject matter, it is not the time to make jokes about it.

In fact, the whole piece (which is one of my favourites because I got to cover sociopolitical issues in relation to internet culture and memes) only came to life after my sister and I were discussing the bazooka “meme” audio. I don’t view myself as above memes, meme language, or anything related to indulging in meme-speak. If anything, if you meet me in real life on a casual day, I either speak exactly the way I write or use the following phrases: “damn that’s crazy”, “releatable fr fr”, even “lowkenuinly” (crazy, I know)...and I really do say them, and these words do slide off my tongue comfortably with no second thought. No thoughts at all sometimes, just straight up vibes. It’s my sense of humour, and it’s a running joke amongst my friends that I do speak and joke like the average frat boy.

I know that my vocabulary is most likely more expansive than the average person, but I do not feel the need to prove that at every given occasion. I don’t view my engagement with this “silly” way of communication as detrimental to me. I’m aware of our shrinking vocabulary and how we are all active participants of it. Equally to that, I still nourish my brain and my conversations with complex thoughts and nuanced phrases to express “juxtaposing ideas and concepts”, but it can’t always be that. There must be room for linguistic elasticity of your personal world, and the world you interact with on all levels of seriousness and play.

That doesn’t mean the internet (IG, TikTok, the algorithm) doesn’t shape or dilute our vocabulary. Internet-speak, words popularised online and spread like wildfire over the algorithm, absolutely shape how we talk, but the issue isn’t their existence, but rather when they are used as crutches. There’s a difference between using them ironically, aware that these are “the words of the moment” and the language being used online, and using it because you can’t think of anything past it. The way to avoid being swallowed by the internet language isn’t by disconnecting entirely – that won’t help you build judgment.

I’ll likely get into the internet-speak debate in a separate newsletter as it is an intricate topic that I can’t do justice here. But what I’m trying to land at is that a well-fed linguistic diet not only expands your vocabulary, but builds your judgment to know which words belong where.

Setting aside casual language, some words are adjacent to a topic but are not necessary to it – this is specifically true for topics that might require academic vocabulary. One of the clearest examples of that, for me, was writing the GQ MOTY Haifa Wehbe profile. The way I approached Haifa Wehbe (one of the most exciting pieces I have ever done) was different than how I usually approach profiles. I will dedicate a separate newsletter on how to frame someone within a profile, but for today, I will focus on language specificities.

Haifa Wehbe is a celebrity who, within Arab pop culture, has become something close to a myth and a symbol. She is a woman who was heavily objectified throughout her career. Yes, she performed with ultra-femininity and seduction, and she leaned into it when she wanted to, but during her interviews, she was reduced to only that and framed as nothing more than a symbol of desire.

So here I was, given the chance to profile a woman who was ostracised for years by both genders, and who hasn’t given a full-length interview in over a decade. But set aside the obvious pressure of needing it to be worth reading, I had to ask myself: how do I avoid becoming another person who objectifies her as an object of study? And what I mean by object of study is turning her into a case study for feminism, misogyny, and double standards in the Arab world. If I interviewed her and dressed her in semi-academic terminology, who does it serve? Not the story, not the reader, and not someone who’s been a fan of her for years. If I create a piece that exists to show you that I, myself, understand feminist discourse and can map it onto her, then I’ve made her an object of study, rather than a person. That’s not what a profile should do, and certainly not what I wanted to do to her.

I didn’t need my readers to know that I understand feminist discourse, and what I wanted to portray was a person speaking on her personal experience, her current projects, and genuinely listening and discussing how she felt across the years as the media observed her. Alongside the interview, I looked up how the media portrayed her in the 2000s and now, specifically Arab-speaking media. English-speaking media often frames her better than Arabic-speaking media. It’s important to research in the language your subject exists in, rather than settling for whatever language you are writing in (one of the many reasons why journalistic diversity matters).

If you read the piece, I deliberately avoided words like feminism, misogyny, sexism, and anything academically adjacent. I used sentence structures that felt true to my voice, but also true to hers. A large part of her audience is Arabic-speaking and may not heavily indulge in English, so I must also make it approachable and allow readers to see this celebrity whom they are a fan of portrayed in the way they actually experience her.

On the other end, I also didn’t want to use sensationalist language and overdo it with words like icon (except once in the sell, calling her pop culture icon), iconic, superstar, legend, and such. That too would feed the myth, rather than examine the person inside it.

This topic of language will likely repeat differently across many newsletter issues, especially when discussing art criticism, profiles, Q&As, and so on. But I do believe that the foundation starts with the questions I went over in this issue. Language is always the most obvious thing when it comes to writing, but because it is so obvious, we can sometimes lose track of how intricate we must get with it.

It takes practice – shaped by reading, writing, and observing the world around you (as discussed in the first SluggMail issue) – but also having fun. We chose this for a living. I find a lot of joy in experimenting and learning about new words and synonyms. Sometimes, I use certain words because I like how they sound, and so they naturally become part of what I say and write. Sometimes, words become part of my daily language because of a show or a song that I love. This is a very natural human experience that we all go through – but when it is time to pour your brain onto paper, that’s when we think twice, or three times, about the words we lay out.

There’s also the problem with AI and sensationalist language – umbrella statements, and everything sounding much “greater” or “graver” than it actually is. That will be covered in a separate newsletter, as it is a problem existing pre-AI, but people who already relied on sensationalist umbrella terminology found themselves right at home in AI’s sensationalism.

The linguistic world is your oyster - really, as cliché as it is. There’s no such thing as stupid words and sophisticated words; there’s context and application. When the application doesn’t match the context, that’s when words become silly, stupid, exaggerated, too academic, too niche, pretentious, or any negative adjective you can think of.

Using “silly” language doesn’t make you a below-average writer, and using “smart” language doesn’t make you or your article sophisticated. Think of it this way: if you drank a good glass of wine on a random Wednesday, you are neither a wine connoisseur nor an alcoholic.

HOMEWORK

No one learns how to swim by reading about swimming. So here are some tasks that you can do to engage with this topic:

• Pick a topic you genuinely love (something you’d talk about unprompted) and write about it three separate times.
  Imagine you are describing your topic to three separate people/demographics. Avg 500 words to start.

1) A friend over text/in-person

2) A teacher/editor or someone with some form of authority

3) An editor working at a publication that handles your topic’s niche

(3 is different than 2, because 3 will likely force you to get more technical if your topic is music to a music magazine, or a fitness topic for a fitness magazine, sociopolitical topic for a political magazine…etc)

As you write, vomit everything out of your brain and do not overthink any words that you are using. Once you are done with each draft, do a word/phrasing audit. Highlight words that have overlapped and words that didn’t – ask yourself, is this actually appropriate to who I am talking to and the topic at hand? Are certain words placeholders that I haven’t bothered to swap out? If some parts feel flat, what words would create more precision?

👩🏻‍💻 Current Reads 👩🏻‍💻

You’ll notice short prompts under each suggestion - try them and see where your answers take you. I do this as standard practice, as it is a great way to explore your mind in relation to existing articles.

No matter how far you are in your career, I will always encourage this practice.

(NOTE: Nothing is behind a paywall so everyone can access all pieces)

How Much Does Our Language Shape Our Thinking? by Manvir Singh for The New Yorker

• A bit historic and heavily research-driven, and unpacks English’s global expansion as a language, but also the migration of “English thought.”

• PROMPT: Think of a topic that you want to write about that has sociopolitical subtext. It does not have to be a proper full piece; it could be a shower thought. When you approach it, do you find yourself reaching for words and frameworks that were built for a Western context? Ask yourself: is there a way to translate that thinking into a regional framework, using reference points that belong to the culture of your topic? Do you feel any gaps or disparities? Is it the vocabulary or something else? You might find yourself returning to this practice over time — it’s not a one-week puzzle to solve.

Why Don’t We Talk About Mental Health in Arabic? by Rand Al-Hadethi for GQ Middle East

• Yes, this is my piece!

• PROMPT: Whether you are bilingual (or polyglot) or not, ask yourself if you feel like the language that you write in has limitations to what you are trying to describe? How can you discuss those limitations? Do you find yourself coming up with new terms to use? Perhaps new sentence structures? This practice will help build agility when facing a linguistic difficulty at any point in time.

our shrinking fashion vocabulary by Viv Chen for The Molehill (worth paying for)

• One of my fav sentences there: “It’s a word that, if I lean on too much, shrinks my ability to describe things using on my own imagination. It has a calcifying effect on my vocabulary.”

• PROMPT: Next time you are writing or journaling, notice how often your brain leans on memes/online-speak (or generic words that are used and abused), and ask yourself, can I use a different word/phrase? If you can, then that’s great. But if you find yourself struggling, then maybe force yourself to think of different words to maintain your vocabulary elasticity. Now, clock that. 🤏🏼

IMP NOTE — the assignments above are more timeless, so do not put the pressure on yourself to have it figured out. Seven years in, and I still go back and forth and engage with these questions and thoughts.

🗂️ Writing Opportunities 🗂️

WESTCHESTER PUBLISHING

Rates: N/A

Westchester Publishing Services UK is looking to add skilled freelance professionals to their freelance talent pool to support a wide range of projects for publishers and content providers.

Application: Apply through this link

EXETER CITY OF LITERATURE

Rates: N/A

Location: 4-week residency in Bucheon, South Korea.

Dates: November 2026

Application Deadline: 28 August 2026

The Bucheon City of Literature office has launched the 2026 Bucheon Residency Programme, open to writers, poets, translators, and graphic storytellers who have at least one published work and are currently engaged in creative writing.

This programme aims to foster international exchange, enhance mobility for literary artists, and provide a unique environment to develop new work while connecting with Korean readers and the local community.

Application: To apply, complete and submit the application form (on page) alongside required documents and send to jsy97@korea.kr

JOB | THE NEW YORK TIMES - Researcher/Reporter for its Iran reporting team

Salary: Undisclosed

The New York Times seeks a Researcher/Reporter for its Iran reporting team. The position is a critical support role in the Times’ coverage on Iran. In the job, you will contribute to coverage of politics, culture, climate change, security, and international relations, among other topics, and you may be asked to help with breaking news, enterprise, investigations and innovative story forms.

This is a full-time, paid position. Based in London, UK.

Application: Apply through this link.

If you are an editor looking for pitches and would like to be listed here, please reach out, and I’ll add to next week’s issue.

🛎️ SluggDesk™ 🛎️

Hey there, anonymous reader,

Working full-time at a magazine is, I think, a pivotal experience for anyone who wants to be a cultural/fashion/art/tech/beauty writer or get real editorial experience. As much as I love freelancing, there are things I only learnt by being in-house.

It’s not the glamorous thing that TV makes out to be, but it’s also not The Devil Wears Prada. But it teaches you a lot about the industry, and just as much about yourself — professionally, and emotionally.

I can only speak to cultural and high-end magazines (the GQ and Vogues) and not newsrooms or political publications, as I have no experience in the latter. But in this world, a good two to three days are spent in team meetings, discussing the upcoming issue, syncing with the team, brainstorming, sharing progress, and keeping everything on track. Staying on top of things is non-negotiable because things can change. I’m not a fan of last-minute changes, but working full-time teaches you to adapt to them, especially when they are out of your control. At the end of the day, the deadlines don’t have much extreme flexibility, and so such an environment teaches you agility and how to work as part of a team.

You also end up building surprisingly emotional connections with coworkers — regardless of whether you’d be friends outside the office. Mainly because cultural writing can draw a lot on personal experience. Ideas in meetings often come from something someone lived through, even if they never write the piece themselves. That naturally invites vulnerability, which can be a good thing, but it can also invite emotional volatility. Because everyone’s name is attached to their work, you get attached to what you make — myself included. So you have to learn to ask yourself, is this genuinely disrupting my workflow, or am I thinking with my emotions first and only? Learning to tell the difference is part of succeeding in the industry.

It also teaches you how to work with people. Your job as a writer is with people. You could be having a bad/annoying/sad day, and you still have to show up to a meeting, or walk into an interview and create a safe space for the person across from you so you can get something real and profound out of them. That builds emotional and mental stamina.

Also, some weeks, it feels like a fun hangout where you toss around ideas, have a good laugh, and see a beautiful magazine come to life. Other weeks can be brutal. I tend to self-isolate when I need to write, as I get distracted easily and I talk too much. Lol. I love a good yap session.

Working full-time also helps you develop an editorial voice specific to an in-house publication, and it gives you real insight into how editors think. The institutional knowledge that accumulates will eventually benefit you throughout your entire career.

It also teaches you how to build your baseline skills and write in one consistent tone of voice. Once that baseline is solid, you can start stretching it and writing in different tones for different outlets or refining a personal voice you developed in-house and adapting it across the freelance work you take on later. It also gives you room for exploration, especially in your early years.

And for a short and final thought, you learn office politics. I hate it, but we all gotta do it at one point. You can’t avoid it your whole life because you’d rather not deal with it. There’s a time to pick your battles and a time to bite the bullet – and once you’ve actually learned what you needed to learn from a place, then it’s up to you whether you stay or go. But you should go through it. It teaches you how to advocate for yourself and builds real confidence. Because even as a freelancer sitting behind your computer in relative isolation, you can’t stay siloed forever. You still need the interpersonal skills that only come from being in a room with people, dealing with friction, and coming out the other side.

If you would like to see your questions in next week’s newsletter, please drop me an email at desk@sluggmail.com.

I look forward to your questions!

The internet tricks you into thinking that proximity to information is the same as understanding, but scrolling past something is not experiencing it. Many writers, without realising it, can end up writing as voyeurs. It isn’t blasphemous to do so. I mean, I’m sure I was one in my own writing as well at one point. But I can’t allow myself to constantly be that and just get a kick out of watching and writing about something from the very distant sidelines.

Genuine cultural curiosity is an act of engagement — long enough that what you are writing about has the chance to change how you think, rather than merely give you material.

🐌 The (Long) Slug 🐌

“The culture” is a term that means everything and nothing. You can attach it to whatever — the culture of thrifting in the Levant, the culture of partying in Dubai, the culture of yada yada yada. Exactly why we can’t approach it as one big subject. It is approached through small, specific stories you get curious about…this could be something happening in your city this weekend, or a scene you’ve never stepped into.

Go and explore it. Even if you hate it. And especially if you hate it. Then ask yourself why. Is it subjective (just not your taste?) or is it objective — something you can recognise has value within its own culture even if it’s not for you?

That distinction and analysis is your first step to exploring an idea and potentially writing outside your own taste on purpose. But again, not as a voyeur, but a curious active participant.

For example, my general aesthetic instincts and likings skew Asian — Japanese and Chinese specifically, and not Middle Eastern. I’m sure this has to do with the fact that I was born in Malaysia and spent a good part of my childhood there. I also love gothic literature, psychological thriller, dystopia, and mystical matters, none of it particularly found in my writing portfolio. But my own leanings do not excuse me from avoiding curiosity about what I don’t gravitate toward. If I only ever engage with what I already like, I don’t just stay ignorant; I never actually expand my knowledge and personal taste.

Whenever I decide to write, I keep asking: I’m Arab, I live in Dubai, but am I the only kind of person who lives here? Am I the only Arab with XYZ experience? Obviously not. So who else is here, what are they dealing with, what are they consuming, what about different countries — and am I willing to find out?

This applies just as much to sociopolitical topics as it does to taste — and soon, you’ll realise that everything does have a sociopolitical edge to it. What’s discussed openly in the GCC isn’t what’s discussed openly in North Africa, and they’re not interchangeable just because someone slaps “Arab” or “MENA” on both.

Do not fall for lazy generalisation built from your own immediate circle, not research. I can think that everyone listens to hip-hop as much as I do because my friends do, but that might not be the most listened-to genre in Dubai/UAE/GCC/MENA/SWANA.

Let’s assume you want to explore why Arabs love/gravitate towards Rap and Hip-Hop more — ask yourself these questions: Which country/city am I focusing on? Where can I source statistics? Can I use some user-generated info found on IG/Reddit/Twitter (X, whatever)? Am I speaking to Khaleeji Arabs, Levant Arabs, Afro Arabs, North Africans that speak Arabic…? Have I ever been to a hip-hop concert in said country I am exploring? Do I listen to a lot of hip-hop or do I just stream popular songs? Would my personal input be of value? Would I be able to get opposing opinions for this piece? How can I shape this story if my claim turns out to be false?

Every time you widen your surface area within a statement, your research must widen too. These questions can scare you and make you drop the topic, or they can push you to test them out. Engage with the scene you want to cover, ask people who are involved, and be precise about the boundaries of the claim you are exploring.

“But I don’t write/care about rap or music writing.”

Okay, and what happens when you are a staff writer and this is requested by your editor? And why not view it as an opportunity to learn a different form of reporting? You may never write another piece about music, but you will take the lessons you learn from this experience and apply them elsewhere.

I’ll give you a fun example.

I recently wrote a piece for PLAYERS called “90 Minutes in a Lifetime,” about the culture of football obsession. For context, I know nothing about football. I don’t watch it, I don’t care about it. But I understand fandom — I’m a massive Star Wars fan; there’s a pure silver Yoda in my house, action figures, stationery, and much more. So I understand the impulse to collect and to feel something bigger than yourself through a piece of culture. Similar to football fandom, I also inherited this love for Star Wars through my father.

What I didn’t understand was that football specifically is what makes grown men build their identity around a club like Arsenal. So I got curious about the gap between what I did understand (fandom, collectables, belonging) and what I didn’t (football itself).

I also know that film stars can feel suffocated by their fans; does that happen to football players as well? — that curiosity is what led me to my closing paragraph that said: “There is a reason clubs call their fans “the twelfth man” because the effect is easily measurable. When Bastian Schweinsteiger – former German soccer player and one of the best of his generation – was once asked before a match against Borussia Dortmund whether he feared the opposing players or their coach more, he chose neither and referred to the 25,000 fans standing as a single block behind the goal, saying, “It’s the Yellow Wall I’m most afraid of.””

I built the whole piece on a subject I have zero personal investment in because I was curious about the shape of the obsession, even without personally caring about its object. And I honestly had so much fun writing it.

In future issues, I will go more in-depth on when you should NOT write about topics you do not know about, as it is a very detailed subject. But the skill that you will be able to cherish your whole life as a writer is making your curiosity agile. Not everything will genuinely interest you, and that’s fine. But train yourself to find the entry point through a place that you do understand, so it can bridge you into what you don’t.

Think of curiosity as a stretching exercise — some days you’ll stretch far, some days not so much, but it should always be in motion. And when you do decide to stretch toward something unfamiliar, commit to it fully. That’s what lands the pitch, that’s what makes you a sharper thinker, and that’s what makes you more awake to the world you’re supposedly writing about.

Why does this matter as a beginner and forever in the long run?

You will not always get assignments that flatter your personal taste.

And second, when you pitch to an editor, they can smell, almost immediately, whether you’re someone who will actually dive into an unfamiliar topic and give it weight, or whether you’ll skim the surface and call it a day.

I have always turned down pitches that appear to be empty shower thoughts with no real interest in challenging/exploring your claim.

At the end of the day, your job is to write, and write with real engagement, regardless of whether the subject was your idea of a good time. Don’t assume you can cash-grab knowledge you are sharing with the world, and remember that being a journalist has an ethical and cultural responsibility.

HOMEWORK

No one learns how to swim by reading about swimming. So here are some tasks that you can do (and even I do myself sometimes) to engage with your mind before you start writing. This is actually the first task I assign my interns (before I even select them):

• Make a list of three articles you love and three you hate, and tell yourself why.

  Not “it’s bad,” not “I loved it.” There must be deeper reasoning, because that’s how you know (and how your editor understands) your baseline — how far you’re willing to travel outside your own taste, how rigorously you can name what pulls you in versus what you’re dismissing on instinct. That’s the actual measure of curiosity — how honestly you can account for why.

👩🏻‍💻 Current Reads 👩🏻‍💻

You’ll notice short prompts under each suggestion - try them and see where your answers take you. I do this as standard practice, as it is a great way to explore your mind in relation to existing articles.

No matter how far you are in your career, I will always encourage this practice.

Meet the Guys Trying to Take Camel Racing Global by Andrew Nagy for GQ Middle East

• A quote that I liked and found relevant to this issue: “‘You never really ‘finish’ learning in this industry. The moment you think that you’ve got it all figured out is the moment progress stops.”’

• PROMPT: How would you cover this story differently? Would you lean more towards ethics? Would you interview more or different people? Would you lean more towards the economics/business side? If it does not interest you — can you explain why and to what degree?

The American Art of Blowing Stuff Up by Paige Williams for The New Yorker

• I was intrigued by this given the wild fireworks that happen occasionally in Dubai during national celebrations and New Year’s Eve.

• PROMPT: How would you localise a topic as such, and do you think there is a local angle to begin with? Notice how the writer sets the scene and uses current affairs in the U.S. as a backdrop in her intro. Can you lend such reporting and descriptions to different topics of interest?

  ---

IMP NOTE — I suggested two pieces instead of three for this issue because both are heavy-duty features (esp. the fireworks story) that are not easy to write. However, if you are a beginner, it is still good to read such pieces and ask yourself the prompts above. I would also consider how I’d cover one aspect of these stories for a 700-900 word piece. What would I focus on, and what would I leave behind?

🗂️ Publications Open to Pitches 🗂️

NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC

Rates: Usually close to a $1 per word

Health pitches about emerging science, wellness, exercise, nutrition, sleep, ageing, recovery, and the brain. And surprising findings that change how we think about everyday health.

Email: starlight.williams@natgeo.com

WIRED MIDDLE EAST

Rates: Usually $220 per 800 words

General publication interests include ambitious, original reporting that explores the intersection of technology, business, science and culture through a Middle Eastern lens. Stories can be reported from anywhere in the world, but they should ultimately tell us something meaningful about the region, its people, industries or future.

Email: dana.alomar@condenast.com

STYLIST

Rates: Undisclosed

They’re commissioning first-person stories for Stylist’s Learn From My Mistakes series that highlights women’s biggest mistakes and what they (and we) can learn from them.

Email: susanne.norris@stylist.co.uk

If you are an editor looking for pitches and would like to be listed here, please reach out and I’ll add to to next week’s issue.

🛎️ SluggDesk™ 🛎️

Dear Glitter&Grime249,

That is a bold and valid question. I think it’s very important that editors take the time to build something with their writers/freelancers.

Cultivating a healthy relationship between editor and writer is a topic I will discuss in more detail in future issues — and, like any relationship, it’s a two-way street with responsibilities for both parties. However, I will break down each point in your question and respond concisely.

Great Freelancers — the definition of what a great freelancer depends on the editors’ and publications’ needs. You might be a great freelancer for an art publication, but not a music publication. And that’s okay - there is no shame in that. But when you are already in communication with an editor, I think it is the editor’s role to inform you whether they find your writing to be suitable for the publication or not.

Fostering Collaborations — Editors’ needs shift and change based on what the publication is currently on the lookout for and the editor’s position. For example, a digital editor would be more open to weekly/monthly contributors in comparison to a features editor. It also depends on the magazine’s structure and masthead. However, again, if you have been in touch with an editor and you feel like they are inconsistent with their communication, my first advice is to acknowledge it and discuss it with them…sometimes, editors are extremely overwhelmed (I’ve been there). And sometimes, they may not be good at managing multiple contributors at once. The truth is that you may never really know what the issue is. But you responsbility is to acknowledge and discuss an issue politely (can I pull you in for a chat?), and if not resolved, you move forward and find other editors.

If you do not have that type of relationship with an editor, and it’s simply an editor that never responded to you, then you leave it be. This is another topic to be discussed in the future — do not harass editors that never respond to you.

Prompt Payments — This isn’t usually the editor’s fault. Unless the editor did not share clear invoice instructions and their payment timelines, it is often a billing issue or some system error if you are dealing with a big company. If you have been in such a predicament, then your editor would/should be able to look into it and/or refer you to the right individual. Other factors also depends if it is an independent publication or not. If it is a pattern that a publication is not paying you, then it is a different legal case.

The average invoicing period is 30 days, with dates varying based on each publication.

Clear Briefs — You cannot control someone’s competence at a job, but you can control who you pitch to. If you feel like there is rarely any clarity between you and the editor, then it is best to move on. I can give you hypothetical advice, or I can be straightforward and tell you how it is. You cannot change people, but you can change your freelance roster.

Not all editors are built the same, so

1) Work with other editors/magazines…there’s plenty of fish in the sea.

2) Do not be the editor you hated when you do end up being an editor.

I hope this answers your questions, and wayyy more to come on this topic. 📂

If you would like to see your questions in next week’s newsletter, please drop me an email at desk@sluggmail.com.

I look forward to your questions!

Before launching this, a few people asked why the name has no Arabic in it or any nod to the region. Which, fair question. But the answer is that cultural journalism (especially in a metropolitan city like Dubai) borrows from so many different communities and contexts that assuming an Arabic-first identity felt like it would do more narrowing than opening up. The region isn’t only Arab-speaking, and I didn’t want SluggMail™ to perform an identity. There’s a time and place to sit with the roots of something, and there’s a time when that becomes costume. And I wanted to sidestep that entirely.

As for the name itself — this industry is often glamorised from the outside. Being surrounded by GQ, Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, Esquire, Architectural Digest, I cannot deny that those publications are what they are and have their weight — I’ll admit, I rarely write for publications that don’t have that somewhat lux-adjacent persona. However, working within this industry isn’t always the fanciest, and it takes slow, deliberate work to get somewhere. I also want this to be somewhat a digital form of a Snail Mail…and, in full transparency, I’m also fascinated by sea slugs. So here we are.

SluggMail™ is for anyone who wants to build a life in writing regardless of where they’re from, what language they think in, or whether they’ve ever filed a story in their life. And while the intention comes from this region, the invitation is wider than that.

This welcome issue is just a walkthrough of what to expect, how this works, and what’s coming.

And if all goes well, you’ll be seeing me in your inbox every Sunday.

🐌 The (Long) Slug 🐌

In future emails, the introduction will be far shorter, and this section will be much longer. But for the welcome issue, I’d like to walk you through my mind on why I view cultural journalism to be an integral part of writing that must be further explored within the region.

Many times, we discuss social and sociopolitical topics solely through a Western lens. I’ve also noticed that cultural journalism in the Middle East often relies on heavy praise that cuts out any necessary nuance that balances admiration with criticism, and defaults instead to umbrella statements and generalised language. When criticism is offered as a point of view, it is often feared to automatically become slander. That is not a trap anyone should fall into.

Cultural journalism in its highest form is a semi-objective analysis of a subject well-interacted with — either by the journalist or the protagonist of the story. It is a weaving of different thoughts and ideas through curiosity and the questioning of society and our own taste.

Good cultural journalism is autonomous, not authoritative.

Often, the young writers and interns I’ve worked with assume that writing is the first step to getting published. It isn’t. Writing is only a tool. Critical thinking, curiosity, social observation, and even the most random conversations over lunch can be the fuel to the engine of your work. The ways you communicate and interact with what you read, with the people you speak to, are what will dictate how you shape your written language. So you must create a healthy, well-balanced linguistic diet.

This industry can also get emotional. At the end of the day, this is your work, and it is only fair to feel protective of it. But we must learn to control our impulses as observers and writers, and communicate our ideas with the world as clearly and honestly as we can.

And so I hope this newsletter serves as some form of guidance through that.

Oh, and there’s also AI — but I’ll get to that separately at one point.

👩🏻‍💻 Current Reads 👩🏻‍💻

Here, I will be sharing three articles I’ve been enjoying lately that relate to each newsletter’s topic. For this welcome note, I will suggest the following:

• SLOP IS THAT DEEP by Hadi Afif for ICON MENA

🗂️ Publications Open to Pitches 🗂️

Worry less about who’s open to pitches in the Middle East (or even abroad), as I will share three magazines each week that are looking for stories to commission.

Rates and emails included when possible!

🛎️ SluggDesk™ 🛎️

Ever wondered how to write a solid celebrity profile, conduct an economic and cultural analysis, create a fun yet informative Q&A, approach magazines, write a pitch, price yourself, or what a day in a lifestyle magazine actually looks like?

Send your questions to desk@sluggmail.com

I read all of them, so don’t be shy. Your question might help you and a lot of other readers too. :)