I think abt how I wrote a queer Bangladeshi NYC novel & how it didn’t help me sell Book 2. Bc that publisher couldn’t conceive of appealing thousands of Bangladeshi readers in our city alone, so that book’s face was decided by its appeal to an average white Midwestern reader.

I’m relieved not to be working with that publisher bc now I’ve completely broken the calcified armor of my MFA, I’m softer, more radiant, more rageful and more true. And no, I didn’t make a lot of money for Book 2; I made the same as I did as an organizer at Make the Road NY

Both Book 1 and Book 2: paperbacks. I once had a fellow novelist claim books that were published only as paperbacks revealed the lack of quality or talent, and I had to correct him — it’s based on how much money these white people think they can make off your labor. Never forget.

Personally, as a kid who grew up low-income, paperbacks and $1 library book sidewalk sales were the only way I could get my hands on a book. Paperbacks comfort me, they feel impermanent, they feel accessible