Some personal news: I'm writing a book!

It's been a helluva year.

I suppose it's more professional news than anything, but I've always liked that media Twitter trope of announcing a new job or project with the ironically blasé "some personal news..." tweet. It's silly and self-deprecating and cringey in the way that a lot of writers, myself included, tend to interact with the world on Twitter; no one has really figured out how we're supposed to present ourselves on this thing yet, even after it's evolved to the point where this cursed bird app is now a formidable media entity that holds the power to sway elections and enact righteous vengeance on Nazis and other racists.

But anyway - I am writing a book! And I am very excited about it! It's called FIGHT LIKE HELL, and will be an accessible, intersectional, marginalized peoples' history of labor in the U.S. focusing on the stories and voices of workers who have been left out of the traditional narrative (basically, if you like my Teen Vogue column, you're going to love this!).

Publishers Weekly spotlighted it this week, which made it feel a little more real, and this Publishers Marketplace blurb (i.e. the now de rigueur screenshot that accompanies nearly every book announcement tweet) that my agent texted me helped, too. I find myself holding tight to these frivolous conventions because I never really thought I'd get to do them, and so as ridiculous as they are, I'm really into them right now. Because I'm writing a dang book! I've had a lot of unexpected successes in my unlikely career, but this one feels big. After all these years of hustling and scribbling and being broke and dealing with shitty bosses and surviving a terror attack and having my life temporarily ruined by Nazis, your girl notched a win.

Speaking of the latter, it dawned upon me today as I was washing the dishes that, at this time last year, I was getting ready to start a brand-new job as the editor of a new online vertical on inequality at a respected, century-old progressive magazine. My start date was about two weeks away, and I was spending my days building up a contact list and eagerly scouring Zillow for my next apartment in the new-old city where I'd been subletting a cheap room for the summer. My career was about to advance to a whole new level, and I couldn't wait to dig in.

And then, it happened.

I've written about this particular episode before, but the long and short of it is that white supremacist FOX News pundit Tucker Carlson got upset about some of my tweets, dedicated a whole segment on his prime time TV show to my sins, accused me of "inciting terrorism," and royally fucked up my mentions and inbox for the following few days. It was a shock, and it was honestly fucking terrifying, but I've dealt with angry Nazis before, online and in person; the storm usually passes (unless it doesn't). I was taken aback, and freaked out, but wasn't worried that it would have any lasting repercussions, because I've been through it so many times before, and was still standing. But this time, I was wrong.

The publication I was set to begin working for had been embroiled in an online controversy of their own for a few weeks proceeding my Tucker adventure, and apparently, when the higher-ups there saw that I was in the news (as it were), they decided that they couldn't risk any more bad press—and they pulled my job offer. I was devastated, and then I was furious, and then I realized that, it didn't matter how I felt; I still had to come up with rent money and figure out where I was going to live. I had to keep going, and to watch silently as the publication's publicity problems soon evaporated, and they returned to business as usual without me.

My plans for that year—my first year freelancing after being laid off from VICE after nearly five years—had revolved around taking that job, and writing a little bit on the side, if I had time. Now, I suddenly had to figure out how to cobble together a living from thin air, during a time when the industry was flooded with freelancers in my exact position, and when I was trying to establish myself as a labor and political writer instead of the heavy metal critic I'd been known as for most of my life.

But I fucking did it. I worked my ass off, and wrote constantly, and sent hours crafting pitches and emailing editors and hunting down new potential opportunities and chasing down invoices and transcribing and doing research, research, and more research. I launched this newsletter and my Patreon, which have been a lifeline and a cherished outlet. I can't thank you enough for being here.

During the course of that year, I also lost my closest family member, have had other family members deal with dire medical emergencies, injured my ankle in a way that's never quite healed, dealt with bouts of anxiety and depression, and, of course, have had to navigate this came pandemic nightmare that we're all struggling with. It has been hard. I have often been miserable and tired and in pain, but I know what a massive privilege it is to be able to do this work and how lucky I am to have been able to make ends meet within this brutal, inequitable industry.

And now, almost exactly a year from that moment, I'm sitting down to plan out my first book, for a rad imprint of a major publishing house. I don't like to toot my own horn, but right now, I'm really proud of myself.

And I really can't wait to share this book with you (and I'm going to be posting excerpts and photos and all kinds of things on here as that process progresses). It means so much to me that you've been here to support me and my work this past year, and I promise not to let you down now.

Love and solidarity,

Your friend Kim