#You Know You Want This by Kristen Roupenian

[bluwavez]

˗ ˋ 🌊    DEEPDIVE   ﹕   LINGERING    .

❝Did he even exist in her mind, as a living, breathing, thinking person?❞                         ―  Kristen Roupenian, You Know You Want This

CHARACTERS :   NOAH SON  …   SON ROAN ... JEON HYERIM

WORDS : 3.2K

WARNINGS / NOTES : Grooming. Noah is a victim. Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics. Age Gaps (10+ years). Crying. Confrontation. I probably forgot something but this piece heavily revolves around Noah and his struggle with realizing what happened to him, and what is happening to him, is not right. I would appreciate if yall didn't blame him, haha! Thank you so much for reading! rbs, comments, and asks are always appreciated ♡

Noah will never forget the first time Hyerim showed interest in him. He was sixteen. 

He never had time for girls, but he wanted a girlfriend. All his friends had girlfriends or at least a girl around, but never Noah. Noah only had friends but no girlfriends. 

He was awkward around girls, especially pretty ones. He remembers he had a crush on Jung Yoonah at that time. He thought she was the prettiest girl in the world and still does, but every time he talked to her, he blushed, and she teased him about it. Clearly, Yoonah thought of Noah like a little brother, not a potential love interest like he wished she did.

Hyerim was the first woman to treat him like a man. She’d sit in his lap. She’d tell him how strong and mature he was for his age. Their conversations would last for hours about things Noah was too young to comprehend fully but thought he could. She was the first woman he had ever been with, his first kiss as well, but he doesn’t really remember it. He doesn’t like to remember it. Noah hates remembering.

“Do you want a cigarette?” Hyerim asks as Noah rests his cheek on her pillow, completely spent from his orgasm. His eyes are shut blissfully with a small nod, feeling her sit up and shift around her bed. She pushes him from his side to his back, making him sigh softly as his lips part. Hyerim slips the cigarette between his full lips, leaning down and lighting it with her violet lighter. His eyes open when the cigarette is lit, blinking tiredly as he takes a drag.

“Can I stay the night?” Noah asks sleepily, his eyes heavy as the cigarette rests between his fingers. From beside him, Hyerim nods, her free hand roaming his chest as she takes another drag of her cigarette. She turns her head towards him, but Noah’s gaze remains on his fingers, watching the cigarette burn between them. He’s so tired, he can’t stand it.

“You can stay forever, Noah,” Hyerim whispers, her lips hovering over his ear, making a chill run down his spine. His deep brown eyes look up at that, turning his head slightly so his nose brushes hers. There’s tightening in his gut at that, a feeling he can’t place but has felt a million times over in Hyerim’s bed. He smiles, dipping his head down to bump their foreheads together for a moment before pulling back. He reaches over to her bedside table to put his cigarette out on the ashtray she keeps there.

When his back is turned to her, he sighs quietly. He fears he might just stay forever, and he fears he won’t mind.

Noah’s hand engulfed Hyunjun’s as he walked his brother into the Angelico building. When he isn’t promoting, Noah picks his brother up from school and drops him off at Roan’s office or at home. Most of the time, it’s in Roan’s office. In the short time they’ve been brothers, Hyunjun has grown attached to Noah, refusing to let him leave if he drops him off at Roan’s apartment, screaming and crying until Noah caves and decides to stay. Noah thinks it’s because Hyunjun doesn’t like to be alone, which has to be genetic at this point. His mother told him stories about the fits he would throw when she would leave him home alone or with a sitter. He hated anyone who wasn’t his mother. Hyunjun hates anyone who isn’t his brother, with maybe the exception of Roan. Noah still can’t grasp if Hyunjun is happy living with Roan, but there’s also nothing he can do about it, even if he isn’t.

“You got your snacks?” Noah asks as they climb up the stairs. Hyunjun refuses to take the elevator. Noah thinks he’s a weird kid for that, but he doesn’t judge too hard. Hyunjin is only 8. 

Hyunjun shakes his head. Noah clicks his tongue disapprovingly at him, tilting his head down at him as they wound a corner to walk up more stairs. Roan’s office is on the fifth floor. Noah already feels tired.

“You ate them at school again?” Noah asks, groaning when his brother nods his head. “You only do this to get money for the vending machines, right?” Noah teases, smiling at the boy who looks up at him with a sly smile, giggling. Noah shakes his brother’s small shoulders playfully, making the boy’s giggles bounce and grow. He can’t help but smile at the echoing of Hyunjun’s childish laugh. It’s a rare thing for Hyunjun to laugh no matter how hard Noah or Roan try, but it’s not like Noah can blame him. It’s been a hard year for the little boy.

“Sneaky,” Noah laughs as he opens the door to the fifth floor, letting Hyunjun walk through it first before he follows. Hyunjun puts his hand out to his brother, and Noah easily takes his hand back into his. They don’t need to hold hands for this part; it’s just a straight shot to Roan’s office, but Hyunjun always insists, and Noah doesn’t mind. Moments like this with his brother make it all feel real. They’re brothers. They’re the only ones left of their father. Even if Noah couldn’t stand his father in the end,  Hyunjun will always be his brother.

“You need to eat the snacks Roan packed for you. The vending machine snacks will make you fat.”

“So? I’ll be happy,” Hyunjun counters. Noah just sighs. He can’t really argue that, and Hyunjun knows that. Noah rolls his eyes as he digs his pocket with his free hand, pulling out his wallet.

“Yeah, whatever, that’s all that matters, I guess.” Hyunjun smiles victoriously up at Noah as he pulls out a few dollar bills for the boy, passing them to him with two fingers. Hyunjun skips when he snatches the bills from his hand, holding it up like he won a prize. Noah can’t stop the smile that grows on his face at his brother’s happiness, feeling a warmth spread throughout his chest as he watches him celebrate the small victory of a vending machine snack. 

“You be nice to Roan,” Noah tells Hyunjun as the stop in front of the man’s office. Hyunjun rolls his eyes at the sentence Noah feels like he’s said a billion times over. Noah grunts dismissively at his brother’s attitude, shaking his head and opening the door to Roan’s office, tugging Hyunjun inside even if he doesn’t have to.

Noah feels indifferent to Roan. He wishes he felt something towards the man responsible for his brother’s wellbeing, but he doesn’t. He’s grateful he’s around and lets them have their time together, but other than that, Noah can’t think of anything to say about Roan. He isn’t even sure how they’re really related, let alone his relation to him and Hyunjun’s father. There will always be an inch's worth of spite that even in his last moments on earth, his father didn’t think of him, but instead of Roan, a cousin he saw a handful of times throughout the year.

When the door opens, Roan’s head turns from his computer to greet the boys with a beaming smile; neither one of them can match. Noah always feels bad that he can’t meet Roan’s enthusiasm, but he at least tries. Hyunjun doesn’t even try. He just sulks over to the corner of the room and drops his bag to start his homework. Roan stares at Noah a bit longer than he should, making him uneasy as he looks around the office. Roan turns his gaze to Hyunjun, who is peeling off his school blazer.

“Hey, buddy,” Roan beams, pushing his chair back to dig in his pocket and pull out his wallet, pulling two five-dollar bills from it. “Why don’t you get us some snacks from the vending machines? Get whatever you want.” 

Noah looks at Hyunjun with a knowing look, brows raised as he waits for his brother to tell Roan that he already has money for the vending machines. Hyunjun smiles at the dollar bills, snatching them from his hand like he did to Noah’s earlier and running out of the office without a single thank you.

Noah just sighs through his nose. Hyunjun is such a piece of–

“While I got you here,” Roan interjects his thoughts, making Noah blink and turn his attention towards the man who motions to the chair in front of his desk. It’s not the chair his father once had; he had sat in it a million times before. It’s new and softer looking. It actually looks comfortable to sit in, unlike the cold oak chairs Jinhwa had. Noah looks around for a moment before awkwardly moving to sit down. 

Roan smiles at Noah. Noah gives that thing artificial smile he gave him earlier. He doesn’t understand what they’re doing, but when he’s in the office, he doesn’t feel like he has a choice. This office, no matter who sits behind the desk, will always belong to his father. His father’s hands will always be felt pressing hard on his shoulders, and his sharp, callous words will always cut through him, even if they’re just whispers now.

“How ya been?” Roan starts, leaning on the desk to be somewhat closer to Noah. Noah looks around again before shrugging.

“Fine. It’s going.”

“Good. That’s good.” A moment of silence. Noah is urged to check his phone to see the time, but he fights himself, not wanting to seem rude. His hands pat on his thighs instead, filling the room with some kind of noise. Roan abruptly pulls back to open a drawer in his desk and pulls out a file. Noah watches with newfound interest. His brows knitted together slightly.

“I just had a few questions for you about Jeon Hyerim.” Noah gulps, feeling his shoulders tense. He can feel his heart beginning to race even as he tries to quell it by taking a deep breath and shrugging his shoulders.

“What about her?” Noah tries to sound casual, but he comes off as hard and elusive as he always does. Roan opens the file, pulling out a few pieces of paper with blocks of text that Noah can’t really make out, but the length of the paragraphs makes him nervous. 

“Well, I’m planning a new boy group to debut this winter, and, of course, they need a manager. Hyerim managed DeepDive pretty damn well until the acquisition, so,” Roan shrugs, letting Noah fill in the blanks. Even as Noah fills them in, his eyes go vacant, staring at the desk in front of him. There’s a tightening in his throat that he can’t ignore, and he hates it. Roan tilts his head at Noah, humming slightly.

“I’ve heard some things about her, though,” Roan starts slowly, staring holes into Noah’s face, but Noah’s vision is blurred from staring at the desk for so long. “Involving you.”

“Woojin’s a liar,” Noah interjects sharply, suddenly coming back to life when he’s hit with the memory of that night. 

Noah always thought Woojin talked too much for being such a useless group member. Talent-wise, he was average. The only thing he had was that he was pretty, which is nothing special in this industry. Pretty is the average around here, especially in Angelico. He always spoke about things he didn’t know anything about, especially on those stupid livestreams he used to do. Noah grits his teeth at the thought, biting the inside of his cheek as Roan hums.

“I didn’t ask about Woojin. I’m asking about you,” Roan reiterates. Suddenly, the office feels cold and familiar again. His father is looming over his shoulders with his hands like deadweights on his shoulders, making Noah bite his cheek harder.

“What is you two’s relationship?”

Noah feels like throwing up, and he doesn’t know why. Hyerim is his girlfriend, in a way, not really, but he loves her, and she loves him. She’s always loved him, and she always will no matter what new group she manages or what boys she looks at, she’ll always love Noah the most. She gave him her word on that. 

“I don’t think that’s any of your–”

“It is because I don’t want my managers fucking my talent,” Roan interjects again, making Noah hold his breath. Roan forces a smile, shrugging his shoulders. “Conflict of interests. If my artists are her dating pool–”

“I’m not your artist.”

“You’re not anymore, but you were, which is why I’m asking: What was your relationship with her?” Roan says every word slowly as if Noah is dumb. Noah rubs his nose, sniffing as he does so. He avoids his gaze, looking off to the side and remaining quiet as his mind races. There’s nothing he could come up with that Roan probably won’t sniff out as a lie, but stating the truth would only end with Hyerim’s wrath. He rubs his face, abruptly standing, sending the chair skirting back.

“Sit down.”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Noah huffs, hands on his hips as he starts to pace. Roan’s gaze is relentless, forearms on the desk as he watches Noah like a hawk.

“You’re not–”

“I said: Sit down.” With a simple change of inflection and rise of volume, Noah listens. He sits back down, his leg instantly beginning to bounce as he does so. 

He’s not dumb. He knows how people view him and Hyerim, or at least certain people. They tell him it’s so horrible he did that to him, that she should’ve gone to prison, then they ask him if he’s okay and how he’s doing now. Noah hates it. He hates being treated like he’s some victim when he’s the furthest thing from it. He and Hyerim met unconventionally, sure, and maybe the law didn’t see their love as right, but he did, and that’s all that mattered. He was in charge, and he chose to date Hyerim.

Roan’s eyes look at Noah’s bouncing leg, then up at the boy’s face, taking a deep breath through his nose.

“Noah, I’m not trying to make you upset.”

Noah scoffs, bringing his nails to his mouth and biting down hard. He needs a cigarette. He needs Hyerim. She’d know what to do.

“I just want to protect my artists. I want to protect those boys. They’re young.”

Noah was young once, too. He is still young, but he was a child once, probably as young as the boys Roan is speaking of. In a way, Noah still feels that young. He doesn’t feel like he’s gotten any older since he started seeing Hyerim; he's just more tired. Noah sighs, swallowing thickly as he looks at Roan, defeated.

“We’ve been seeing each other for a couple of years now,” Noah finally admits out loud, sighing quietly once it’s finally in the air. He feels tears in his eyes. He doesn’t understand why they’re there, making his throat feel like it’s closing up on him. He wants to leave this place. He can’t stand it here. He can still hear his father yelling at him to man up and that he was lucky a woman like Hyerim wanted a boy like him.

Noah bites the inside of his cheek, pressing the tips of his fingers to his mouth as his eyes stay glued to the corner of the room.

“Is it bad?” Noah asks shakily, “Is what she did bad?”

A part of him already knows the answer, making him sick to his stomach. Roan’s gaze softens as Noah gradually breaks down in his chair, watching the boy hold back sobs that spill from his lips anyway, tears beginning to run down his cheeks.

“When did it start?” That is all Roan asks. Noah figures that’s the answer enough. 

“I was sixteen,” Noah whispers, the age finally sounding as young as it actually was and not as wise and mature as Hyerim made him believe it was. “God, I was sixteen.” 

He thinks of his brother when he says that. One day, Hyunjun will be sixteen, and Noah will still think of him as a baby. It makes him sick to think about someone twice his age telling Hyunjun everything Hyerim would say to him when he was that age. How could anyone say those things to someone so young? Noah would never do something like that, so why would Hyerim? He wasn’t in charge. He was just a boy.

Roan takes a deep breath, looking at the door behind Noah as if to give the other a moment of privacy as he wipes his tears, sniffling softly to himself. Noah uncovers his face, but he doesn’t look at Roan; just wipes his eyes and swallows thickly with a soft groan. He wants to leave. It’s time for him to go home.

“I don’t want her in trouble,” Noah tells Roan with a loud sniffle, “She–I know–She’s not a bad person. We love each other. I-I don’t want her to lose her job, please.” There’s a pause that makes Noah shake his head.

“She’s going to be so mad. Please, don’t–”

“I won’t fire her, Noah. I won’t even tell her we talked,” Roan assures with a small nod, eyes wide enough to tell Noah the man feels in over his head. Most people do when he even gives them a glimpse of his and Hyerim’s relationship. Noah wipes under his eyes with the back of his hand, nodding in gratitude.

“Thank you. Thank you. She’s…She’s not a bad person. I know it’s-” A million words fill Noah’s head on what he could say to describe him and Hyerim’s relationship: Wrong, inappropriate, unethical. “It’s unconventional, but I love her and she loves me.” Even though Noah is looking at Roan’s concerned face, it doesn’t feel like he’s talking to him. It sounds like he’s trying to convince someone else of the validity of his and Hyerim’s relationship. Roan’s eyes look over Noah’s tear-stained face, clearing his throat as he pushes a box of tissues towards him.

Noah plucks a few out of the box, wiping under his eyes with a deep breath to ground him. He loves Hyerim, he tells himself, and she loves him. They are just two people who love each other. That’s all they’ve ever been: two people who love each other, and that’s all they’ll continue to be. Noah doesn’t see his life without Hyerim in it in some capacity. Whether she’s in the background or the foreground. She’ll always be there, etched into his mind like some ancient text he can’t erase.

Roan watches as Noah composes himself, eyes looking over the boy again before swallowing quietly. Noah stands, running a hand over his face with a clear of his throat, jerking his thumb towards the door as his eyes stay glued to the ground.

“I, uh, I have to go, but can you tell Jun I said bye? I need to…get to the studio.”

Noah has never been a good liar. Still, Roan smiles even if Noah can’t see it, watching as he heads towards the door with newfound haste.

“I hope it all works out for you, Noah.” Noah doesn’t know why those words make his brows knit, feeling a sharp pang in his chest as they crawl into his ears. Despite his discomfort, Noah nods a silent thank you, swallowing down his emotions as he usually did.

When Noah leaves, his hands are still shaking. 

[julictcapulet]

😶‍🌫️😴🥸 book recs please

let's go!!

east of eden by john steinbeck. literally finished it yesterday on the bus and cried when i did!

you know you want this: cat person and other stories by kristen roupenian. short story collection that focuses on the power dynamics prevalent in bedroom politics and how sexuality—especially female sexuality—is so often rooted in horror, whether women are the ones experiencing it or inflicting it.

good girl by anna fitzpatrick. humorous book about what it means to be a woman and if there's such a thing as truly embracing your sexuality in a way that doesn't devalue identifying as a feminist, especially when your sexuality is so often intertwined with kink and submission to male partners.

[xulachics-theblackgirltake]

Let's Talk About It: "Cat Lady" by Kristen Roupenian Expectation vs. Reality - When it comes to expectation vs. reality in this story, it specifically relates to texting vs. talking. It is clear that in the story, both Margot and Robert had an idea of who they thought the other person was. This expectation was let down by the actual interaction they ended up having. They projected this expectation onto each other and were disappointed. Impaired - In the story, Margot and Robert end up going to the bar where Margot has one too many. She inevitably got drunk. Robert knew this, and instead of taking her home, he allowed her to come to his home. However his initial thought was to take her home, but he was quickly overlooked when she asked to go to his place. I understand that twenty years old is beyond the age of consent. However, I also understand that she is a sophomore in college who has a lot more maturing to do. The fourteen-year age gap is inappropriate. Sex - Margot and Robert had intercourse. It was very evident that neither of them enjoyed this experience. While Margot was busy trying to imagine anything but Robert being on top of her, Robert lost his erection multiple times. Whether it was the unreached expectation or a lack of attraction, neither party seemed to enjoy themselves fully. However, it did seem that Robert could enjoy himself more than Margot. In fact, he wanted her to spend the night after the fact. Since I only have Margot's point of view, it is difficult to make a matter-of-fact statement on what was going through Robert's head. Maybe he was trying to be nice? I'm not really sure. All I know is that intercourse should not have happened to begin with. Developmentally Delayed - I think that Robert is developmentally delayed. Let me tell you why… he projects this idea of who Margot's high school boyfriend was. That was weird. Why would you even want to discuss someone's high school boyfriend as a thirty-four-year-old man? That's one of those "back in the day" moments for people in their thirties. They are not typically talking to young women who would still have relations with their high school lovers. I think that he wanted a young girl to fulfill a young, missed experience. Which, again… weird. Rejection - Rejection is another BIG part of this story. In my opinion, men take rejection worse than women. I won't use this story to prove that, but I just wanted to put it out there. Anyway, rejection is not something that anyone wants to deal with. A lot of the time, people tend to internalize rejection. In this case, I feel like that is what happened; however, when Robert saw Margot at the bar, I think that that was a trigger for him. I feel like when he texted her after seeing her, it presented him with a sense of rage. Or maybe he actually liked Margot and was genuinely hurt by her rejection?? He got mad that she was with another man, which I found odd. Why should it matter if she was with another man? Overall, the story was well written. It was relatable and I think that's why it became so popular.

-Olivia Simpson

[brachyurans]

i think anyone who reads you know you want this expecting more of cat person’s sort of frank exploration of gender dynamics and the mundane imperfections of humanity will be disappointed but they will also be doing roupenian a disservice, because holy shit she is far better at horror/fairytale than anything else

[howifeltabouthim]

He had no faith in love's capacity to cause him anything but pain.

Kristen Roupenian, from You Know You Want This

[fwittrocknews]

🆕 Finn Wittrock will be part of a cast who will be lending their voices for the audiobook version of the short story collection You Know You Want This by author Kristen Roupenian. The collection releases on January 15, 2019.

The short story collection is "a compulsively readable collection of short stories that explore the complex—and often darkly funny—connections between gender, sex, and power across genres"

You can read a more in depth summary of the book and find links to various retailers where you can pre-order here → Simon & Schuster

[frammento]

Was there a point at which your ego was crushed so completely that it died, and you no longer had to lug around the burden of yourself? There must be a German word for this feeling, when the elaborate contortions of your own thinking rose to the surface and became suddenly and unpleasantly visible. Like walking past a mirror in a crowded mall and thinking: Who is that dude with the terrible posture, and why is he cringing like he expects someone to punch him, I’d like to punch him—oh wait, that’s me.

Kristen Roupenian, The Good Guy

[bigtickhk]

My Sister, The Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite  

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You Know You Want This by Kristen Roupenian

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Adèle by Leila Slimani

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When I Had a Little Sister: The Story of a Farming Family Who Never Spoke by Catherine Simpson

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A Mouth Full of Blood by Toni Morrison

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Black Leopard, Red Wolf by Marlon James

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Lost Children Archive by Valeria Luiselli 

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Daisy Jones & The Six by Taylor Jenkins Reed

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The Runaways by Fatima Bhutto

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[a-broader--sensibility]

hi, I was wondering if u could explain "being sexualized" vs "expressing sexuality" bc tiny clothes (so men can look at u), songs abt abuse=cool etc are sexualizing and seem slimy but at what point is it women "feeling sexy" and not being pushed into it for others benefit, idk if this makes sense

This is a great question, and I’m sorry I’m so late to respond. Before I answer, please keep in mind that this is the opinion of one person on the internet and you should consider many perspectives before making up your own mind.

I want to reverse your question a bit and begin with the idea of “expressing sexuality” rather than “being sexualized.” Plenty of ink has been spilled on the topic of objectifying women, so I want to discuss this idea that there is a way of expressing your own personal sexuality via clothing in a way that is empowering. Frankly, given that sexual desire is usually about desiring other people (besides yourself, unless you’re a narcissist), it doesn’t really make sense to think that the clothing you yourself wear can express your sexual desires. As a straight woman, I definitely find certain types of clothing on men attractive, but what I myself wear has no bearing on how attracted I am to a given man. If I were to wear lingerie, that wouldn’t affect my desire for another person. I am not attracted to myself. 

Some women have expressed that wearing sexy clothing or lingerie makes them “feel sexy.” I would counter that feeling sexy means feeling that you are sexually attractive to others—i.e. pleasing to other people, not yourself. Feel sexual =/= feeling “sexy.” Sexual feelings (arousal, desire, etc.) are about your desire to engage in sexual activities either with a partner or alone, whereas feeling sexy or beautiful is a type of confidence about how much your appearance pleases other people. It is possible to feel beautiful or desirable to others without feeling any arousal at all. Similarly, it is possible to feel arousal in a private setting where you aren’t even thinking about how you appear to other people (for example, while masturbating.)

It is true that many men are especially turned on by skimpy clothes or lingerie, but we also know that sexuality is extremely diverse and complicated. The notion that lingerie or short shorts makes you sexy is predicated on the presumption that most people (let’s be honest—most men) are turned on by the same narrow set of Western commercial beauty ideals. My experience of dating—however narrow—has been that even “straight cis” men are actually attracted to a variety of body types, types of clothing, and choices to wear or not wear makeup. No matter how you are dressed right this instant, someone out there would probably find you irresistible and someone else would find you hideous. It depends on who you ask.

A lot of women mistake being desired with experiencing arousal. Kristen Roupenian really explored this notion in her short story Cat Person. Here’s a quote taken from a sex scene where the main character, Margot, has sex with an older man she has earlier admitted to finding a bit disgusting and unattractive:

“As they kissed, she found herself carried away by a fantasy of such pure ego that she could hardly admit even to herself that she was having it. Look at this beautiful girl, she imagined him thinking. She’s so perfect, her body is perfect, everything about her is perfect, she’s only twenty years old, her skin is flawless, I want her so badly, I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone else, I want her so bad I might die.

The more she imagined his arousal, the more turned-on she got...”

I’m not judging anyone who makes this mistake, because it’s super normal for women—almost universal. We are so programmed to believe that other people’s desire for our bodies is our own sexual desire that we feel defensive when feminists point out that crop tops, mini-bras, corsets and the like are schmattes. They are garments sold by Hot Topic and Victoria’s Secret and whoever else. They’re fabric. Your sexuality is your body, your physiological response to complex scenarios that are personal to you, and they cannot be purchased for $19.99 at a mall. Clothing doesn’t make you sexually aroused, but it can make you more sexually appealing to others. 

If we say that Billie Eilish wearing a corset in Vogue is an expression of her sexuality, then what does that mean about Billie? Is she sexually attracted to her own body, like an extreme narcissist? Was she meant to be have been sexually aroused during the photo shoot (a professional event, a workplace environment, surrounded by probably 20+ photographers, assistants, aides, stylists, cateres, etc.)? Are we to understand that the desire that anonymous male viewers of her images feel for Billie is the same as Billie Eilish’s own desires? I know your question wasn’t about Billie, but I feel it’s relevant.

Anyways, I hope this was useful to you. I know this was a wordy response, but I felt the need to clarify exactly what I meant. I’m not against female sexuality, but sexuality is desire and arousal—not pride in one’s appearance.

[writingdotcoffee]

#229: Luck for Writers

Whether you like to admit it, luck is a key part of being a successful writer. Or being successful in general.

When you look at success in retrospect, it's easy to discount the role that chance and luck played in the making of it. I don't doubt that successful authors work incredibly hard — perhaps harder than anyone. But survivorship bias is real. Many others may have worked just as hard and never got anywhere. In a way, if you can read and write, you should consider yourself lucky.

Although luck is unpredictable, you can exploit the way it's distributed by taking risks. Let me explain.

The Distribution of Luck

Imagine a group of four kids playing a simple game. They take turns flipping a coin. Heads mean the person flipping it gets to keep it. Tails mean you have to give it up. However, only two of the kids bet their pennies. The other two just tag along and watch the fun.

You know where I'm going with this. Only the kids that stake their pennies can win. Within the rules of the game, there's no way that the other two kiddos can walk away with some extra cash.

Writing and publishing is a game of sorts too. There are rules both written and unwritten. Some you can bend or break; some evolve over time. If you aren't playing and taking risks, you won't have any luck.

One rule of writing is that you have to finish things. Another says that you have to submit your work to agents if you'd like to see it traditionally published. A different rule says that you have to build an audience if you want to self-publish successfully.

The people participating in the game will get all the luck. You have to take some risks. The trick is to only take the right type of risk.

Taking Risks as a Writer

You don’t have to take existential or stupid risks. I certainly wouldn’t recommend that. But you have to take risks. It’s like asking for a raise at work. Your boss won’t come to you offering you more money for doing the same work. But you might just get it if you work up the courage to ask.

What I mean by taking risks, in this case, is simply writing stories and putting them out there. Even if you don't think they're good enough. Submitting your stories to magazines and agents, or publishing them online.

You're risking your time and perhaps some embarrassment. But if you keep doing it for long enough, you will improve and perhaps even get lucky eventually.

Working with the Odds

The odds of making it as a writer are notoriously low. The real way to beat them is to face them square. Work hard and take chances. As many as you can, and never risk it all at once.

The most important thing is to make sure you can keep going. If you burn out and resent writing or even quit altogether, you'll cut your chances to find luck.

What to Do?

Enough of abstract advice. How does this look in practice?

Finish Stories as Often as You Can

This is the first step. The more shots you fire, the more likely it is that you'll hit the target.

If you don't have a lot of time to write, work on shorter stories. A 180,000-word, Brandon Sanderson style tome will take you decades to finish if you only can write for a few hours per week.

Submit or Self-publish Your Work

Send your stories out to magazines, agents or publish them on the Internet. That's rule no.2 of writing. If you don't put it out, you're not exposing yourself to any possibility of luck.

A big-time literary agent won't reach out to you if you never publish anything. But they might if one of your stories happens to go viral.

The chances aren't astronomical, but it did happen to Kristen Roupenian's Cat Person. The New Yorker accepted her story from the slush pile. Then, she got signed with an agent and received a $1.2 million advance to write a collection of short stories. When the book came out, HBO acquired rights to adapt it into a drama series. Not too bad.

Keep Going

It probably won't be the first story or the second one. You will learn and improve over time. One of these days, you might be the lucky one.

About the Author

Hi, I’m Radek 👋. I’m a writer, software engineer and the founder of Writing Analytics — an editor and writing tracker designed to help you beat writer’s block and create a sustainable writing routine.

I publish a post like this every week. Want to know when the next one comes out? Sign up for my email list below to get it right in your inbox.

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Past Editions

#228: Following Through, January 2022

#227: Dealing with Change as a Writer, January 2022

#226: 12 Most Popular Writing Quotes of 2021, December 2021

#225: What Fears Hold You Back as a Writer?, December 2021

#224: What Will Your Story Be?, December 2021

[wepicy]

Dating Quote By Kristen Roupenian, “Oh, my God, Ted, she moaned, fakely.They dated for the next four months.” Kristen Roupenian, - You Know You Want This

[blackwoolncrown]

The defining feature of conversation is the expectation of a response. It would just be a monologue without one. In person, or on the phone, those responses come astoundingly quickly: After one person has spoken, the other replies in an average of just 200 milliseconds.

In recent decades, written communication has caught up—or at least come as close as it’s likely to get to mimicking the speed of regular conversation (until they implant thought-to-text microchips in our brains). It takes more than 200 milliseconds to compose a text, but it’s not called “instant” messaging for nothing: There is an understanding that any message you send can be replied to more or less immediately.

But there is also an understanding that you don’t have to reply to any message you receive immediately. As much as these communication tools are designed to be instant, they are also easily ignored. And ignore them we do. Texts go unanswered for hours or days, emails sit in inboxes for so long that “Sorry for the delayed response” has gone from earnest apology to punchline.

People don’t need fancy technology to ignore each other, of course: It takes just as little effort to avoid responding to a letter, or a voicemail, or not to answer the door when the Girl Scouts come knocking. As Naomi Baron, a linguist at American University who studies language and technology, puts it, “We’ve dissed people in lots of formats before.” But what’s different now, she says, is that “media that are in principle asynchronous increasingly function as if they are synchronous.”

The result is the sense that everyone could get back to you immediately, if they wanted to—and the anxiety that follows when they don’t. But the paradox of this age of communication is that this anxiety is the price of convenience. People are happy to make the trade to gain the ability to respond whenever they feel like it.

While you may know, rationally, that there are plenty of good reasons for someone not to respond to a text or an email—they’re busy, they haven’t seen the message yet, they’re thinking about what they want to say—it doesn’t always feel that way in a society where everyone seems to be on their smartphone all the time. A Pew survey found that 90 percent of cellphone owners “frequently” carry their phone with them, and 76 percent say they turn their phone off “rarely” or “never.” In one small 2015 study, young adults checked their phones an average of 85 times a day. Combine that with the increasing social acceptability of using your smartphone when you’re with other people, and it’s reasonable to expect that it probably doesn’t take that long for a recipient to see any given message.

“You create for people an environment where they feel as though they could be responded to instantaneously, and then people don’t do that. And that just has anxiety all over it,” says Sherry Turkle, the director of the Initiative on Technology and Self at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

It’s anxiety-inducing because written communication is now designed to mimic conversation—but only when it comes to timing. It allows for a fast back-and-forth dialogue, but without any of the additional context of body language, facial expression, and intonation. It’s harder, for example, to tell that someone found your word choice off-putting, and thus to correct it in real-time, or try to explain yourself better. When someone’s in front of you, “you do get to see the shadow of your words across someone else’s face,” Turkle says.

In last month’s viral New Yorker short story “Cat Person,” a young woman embarks on a failed romantic relationship with a man she meets at the movie theater where she works. They only go on one date in the story; they get to know each other primarily over text. When the affair ends messily, it reveals not only how the bubble of romantic expectations can be popped by reality’s needle, but also how weak digital communication is as a scaffolding on which to build an understanding of another person.

In an interview, the story’s author, Kristen Roupenian, said the piece was inspired by “the strange and flimsy evidence we use to judge the contextless people we meet outside our existing social networks, whether online or off.” Indeed, even for the people we already know, we increasingly rely on contextless forms of communication. This puts an unusually large burden on the words themselves (and maybe some emojis) to convey what is meant. And each message, and each pause in between messages, takes on outsize importance.

“Text messages become marks on rocks to be analyzed and sweated over,” Turkle says.

It’s not always easy to figure out what someone meant to convey by using a certain emoji, or by waiting three days to text you back. Different people have different ideas about how long it’s appropriate to wait to respond. As Deborah Tannen, a linguist at Georgetown University, wrote in The Atlantic, the signals that are sent by how people communicate online—the “metamessages” that accompany the literal messages—can easily be misinterpreted:

Human beings are always in the business of making meaning and interpreting meaning. Because there are options to choose from when sending a message, like which platform to use and how to use it, we see meaning in the choice that was made. But because the technologies, and the conventions for using them, are so new and are changing so fast, even close friends and relatives have differing ideas about how they should be used. And because metamessages are implied rather than stated, they can be misinterpreted or missed entirely.

This metamessage opacity spawns thousands of other text messages a year, as people enlist their friends to help interpret exactly what their romantic interest meant by a certain turn of phrase, or whether a week-long radio silence means they’re being ghosted. (The New Yorker parodied this collaborative textual analysis in a video in which a group of women gather, war-room style, to answer the question “Was It a Date?”)

Features intended to add clarity—like read receipts or the little bubble with the ellipses in iMessage that tells you when someone is typing (which is apparently called the “typing awareness indicator”)—often just cause more anxiety, by offering definitive evidence for when someone is ignoring you or started to reply only to put it off longer.

* * *

But just because people know how stressful it can be to wait for a reply to what they thought would be an instant message doesn’t mean they won’t ignore others’ messages in turn.

Sometimes people don’t respond as a way of deliberately signaling they’re annoyed, or that they don’t want to continue a relationship. Turkle says sometimes taking a long time to write back is a way of establishing dominance in a relationship, by making yourself look simply too busy and important to reply.

But oftentimes, people are just trying to manage the quantity of messages and notifications they receive. In 2015, the average American was receiving 88 business emails per day, according to the market research firm Radicati, but only sending 34 business emails per day. Because—who has the time to respond to 88 emails a day? Maybe someone isn’t responding because they’ve realized the interruption of a notification negatively affects their productivity, so they’re ignoring their phone to get some work done.

I find myself ignoring or procrastinating even important messages, and ones I want and intend to respond to. I had to create a bright red “Needs Response” email label to battle my own “delayed response” problem. I regularly read texts, think “I’ll respond to that later,” and then completely forget about it.  Working memory—the brain’s mental to-do list—can only hold so much at once, and when notifications get crammed in with shopping lists and work tasks, sometimes it springs a leak.

“A lot of the time what’s happening is people have five conversations going on, and they just can’t really be intimate and present with five different people,” Turkle says. “So they kind of do a triage, they prioritize, they forget. Your brain is not a perfect instrument for processing texts. But it will be interpreted as though it really was a conversation, and so you can hurt people.”

* * *

Still, even though instant written communication can be overwhelming and anxiety-inducing, people prefer it. Americans spend more time texting than talking on the phone, and texting is the most frequent form of communication for Americans under 50.

While texting is popular worldwide, Baron, of American University, thinks that a strong preference for communication that can be easily ignored is a particularly American attitude. “Americans have far fewer manners in general in their communication than a lot of other societies,” she says. “The second issue is a real feeling of empowerment. I think we have become a version of power freaks, not just control freaks.”

In a survey Baron conducted in 2007 and 2008 of students in several countries including the United States, the things that people said they liked most about their phones were often related to control. One American woman said her favorite thing was “Constant communication when I want it (can also shut it off when I don’t).”

“What I have seen in this country, and I don’t know if it’s a national trait, is people wait until they think they have the perfect thing to say, as though relationships can be managed by writing the perfect thing,” Turkle says. “And I think that is something we pay a very high cost for.”

In Baron’s survey, people also mentioned feeling controlled by their phones—bemoaning how dependent they were on the devices, and how the constant connectivity made them feel obligated to respond.

But texts and emails don’t create as big of an obligation as phone calls, or a face-to-face conversation. When young adults are interviewed about why they don’t like making phone calls, they cite a distaste for how “invasive” they are, and a reluctance to place that burden on someone else. Written instant messages create a smokescreen of plausible deniability if someone doesn’t feel like responding, which can be relieving for the hider, and frustrating for the seeker.

More than anything, what the age of instant communication has enabled is the ability to deal with conversation on our own terms. We can respond right away, we can put it off for two days, or never get around to it at all. We can manage several different conversations at once. “Sorry, I was out with friends,” we might say, as an excuse for not texting someone back. Or, “Sorry, I just need to text this person back real quick,” we might say while out with friends.

As these things become normal, it creates an environment where we are only comfortable asking for slivers of people’s distracted time, lest they ever obligate us to give them our full and undivided attention.

[lilicacss]

Aproveitando que é semana pós flip e que a Kristen Roupenian ainda anda em solos brasileiros, retomei o livro rosa de capa dura que estava hanging no hack da sala. Este é mais um conto dela que eu leio e que dispensa descrições. Penso que são como os filmes do Jordan Peele: recomendo assistir direto, sem ver o trailer antes, para se surpreender várias e várias vezes. Nem queira saber sobre o que se trata em detalhes, só leia. É isso, só leia.

Mas tá, se tiver que dar uma espremida, ou um gostinho, uma cutucada, o “Scarred” é meio black mirror. De uma situação aparentemente boba sai um chorume humano desgraçado. 🙆🏻‍♀️

[brachyurans]

okay, but, the whole point of lampreys is, they don’t open their mouths, on account of being jawless and thus, not having any hinges in that area

[charmtion]

mid-year book freakout ✨

ty for the tag @woodswit; absolutely adding the mere wife to my list as we speak!

best book you’ve read so far in 2021? there are little kingdoms by kevin barry; the energy of it is just sublime, & the myriad voices threading through it that somehow find a bonded centrality are achingly well-written.

best sequel you’ve read so far in 2021? I rarely read book series but would like to read blue nights—a heartbreaking sequel of sorts to the year of magical thinking by joan didion which has some of the sleekest, smoothest, subtlest prose I’ve read this year.

new release you haven’t read yet, but want to? assembly by natasha brown—it’s next on my to-read list, & I am much excite! 

most anticipated release for second half of 2021? beautiful world, where are you by sally rooney. like many others, I am so tragically excited for this book that it hurts. dublin! roma! complex tangled modernity! the cover is also gorgeous. ☀️

biggest disappointment? unfortunately, you know you want this by kristen roupenian. after all the hype and vicious richness of cat person, this collection of short stories just fell flat. it is dark and gritty but also utterly airless. stifling. a bit addictive and absolutely acerbic. maybe I’ll revisit it one day in the future.

biggest surprise? the field by robert seethaler; what begins as a wander through the inhabitants of a small-town german cemetery becomes a commentary on the actual essence of life, all the honesty that underpins it. I wanted to read it again as soon as I finished it. beyond stunning. 

favourite new author? francine toon. her debut pine didn’t quite know what it wanted to be but she writes beautifully, & her sense of tone and place captivated me; I’ll definitely look for her future work. 

newest fiction crush? several characters from the mythological-focussed anthology fabulous by lucy hughes-hallet which was 🌟 quality.

newest favourite character? carla jean from mccarthy’s no country for old men is dazzling and fiesty—loretta, too. 

book that made you cry? a few from being various edited by lucy caldwell—legends & wings in particular. the Irish literature scene is just alive and electric and I am forever in love with it. ⚡️

favourite book adaptation you saw this year? I honestly don’t think I have seen a single adaptation this year. 

favourite review you’ve written this year? one for our souls at night by kent haruf which is just the most simple, spare, soul-aching little book. 

most beautiful book you bought so far this year? starve acre by andrew michael hurley; absolutely stunning artwork, & an atmospheric eerie edge to its words that lingers and lurches. his debut the loney remains one of my absolute most favourite books in the world. 

what books do you need to read by the end of the year? on earth we’re briefly gorgeous; hamnet; this way to the sugar; sometimes a great notion; dark lies the island; from a low and quiet sea; milkman. 

tagging: @chispas-and-broken-bindings, @semperlitluv, @luthienne, & @esther-dot. 🌻