Shrieking, cawing; miscellaneous wailing and gnashing of teeth.
We're not going anywhere. You are not alone.
Hello Darlings,
This is not the newsletter I intended to send today. The first part is something I wrote to be the afterword of the published edition of What Manner of Man, followed by some new thoughts and words of affirmation.
I had planned to send part of this text in a message of thanks addressed to those readers who have bought and reviewed the book in the week (oh my god, it feels like so much longer than a week) since its launch. Much of it has become unexpectedly relevant, and I decided to send this in lieu of chapter 30. I will resume sending the final chapters next Friday.
What Manner of Man started as a mad idea — “What if I shared a roughly-edited draft of my novel online for free, serializing it in the form of a newsletter?”
As I write this, two years later, the reception of What Manner of Man has not only laid my fears to rest but surpassed my wildest expectations. It’s no secret that this is an inauspicious time to be attempting to begin a career as a writer. (See: the decay and enshittification1 of online platforms, the ascendency of algorithms and the scams they breed, and the way that those things combine to turn getting attention online into a game of chance.)
This novel was born into a moment that is not only historically bad for book publishing, but one which is suffering from an outbreak of increasing bigotry towards LGBT art and all expressions of unrepressed sexuality. Publishing a novel as queer and boundary-pushing as What Manner of Man and, in spite of it all, being received with overwhelming love and enthusiasm, has made me realize that the fear that was holding me back was baseless.
When I started What Manner of Man, I was looking for ways to make a living as a writer in a rather heedless, desperate way. I did an immense amount of research in the process — turning over various rocks and looking into corners of the internet heretofore entirely unknown to me — and I concluded that making a living as a writer is the same as making money in any creative profession online: that is to say, it’s a numbers game. The greater the volume of novels you can release, and the shorter the amount of time between releases, the more likely you are to “make it.”
I simply did not want to make that particular sacrifice; I couldn’t resign myself to a career built on pushing half-baked novels out the door and cutting all possible corners just to get things done half as quickly as the average robot or scam artist. I want to write stories that take up space — that require more of me, and to give them the time they need. All of the self publishing infrastructure online is weighted against that.
It was as I was debating what to do that Dracula Daily happened. A newsletter serializing the 1897 novel Dracula went viral on Tumblr, accumulating over a quarter of a million readers for a century-old gothic novel — and, in the process, pointing to a huge number of readers hungry for exactly the kind of stories I had always wanted to write. Gothic fiction is my home, and the sudden groundswell of interest in the subject matter, combined with the newsletter publishing model, struck me as having immense potential. I made the mad absurd incredibly risky brave and cool decision to announce the upcoming debut of novel I hadn’t written yet.
Despite this, What Manner of Man has been a tremendous success. This newsletter-first format not only allows me to spend longer on each story, but gives readers the necessary time to develop a deeper relationship with them. The level of fan engagement this novel has experienced is amazing for a writing project of its relatively small scale. It has been an absolutely incredible experience to have that kind of support as a fledgeling writer, and I am indescribably grateful to all of my readers.
At this point in the afterword, I’ve written: “If there’s one message I want people to take from What Manner of Man, it’s to not be afraid — not of yourself, not of the internet, and not of doing something a little bit crazy. Though a lot of things feel impossible, right now, it may be that all it takes is a certain degree of mad hubris and willingness to invent things yourself.” Every part of it has suddenly become far more true than it was two days ago. You must not be afraid; not of yourself, not of the internet. We must become willing to invent things ourselves.
Bad things are on the horizon regarding pornography laws in the US, which will affect every part of the internet that you and I use, and we need to be ready. We should go forward assuming that any art which is sufficiently queer and subversive may be classified as pornography.
Some words I have found helpful to think about, from Margaret Killjoy’s Nov. 6th newsletter: "A therapist friend of mine reiterates to me all the time that acting with agency is the primary way to avoid being traumatized by negative experiences. Whether you win or lose, the act of fighting is enough to help our brains process what has happened."2
In the afterword, I went on to mention the novel I want to write next — but that isn’t all that I want to do. We need to begin to create better networks of support and communities to share resources that are not dependent on corporate-controlled social media feeds. “Big Tech monopolists […] have successfully created an internet of paranoid cul-de-sacs, where no one trusts each other and nothing can break through the noise.”3 Social media websites are already environments of paranoia, isolation, and mistrust. “Authoritarian power is derived from fear of repression, isolation from each other and exhaustion at the utter chaos. We’re already feeling it.”4
The internet will only get more fragmented from here, we need to start building alternative communities now. Reach out to all those who you trust. Continue to create, share, and support queer and subversive art. Resist all pressure to voluntarily self-censor. Do not obey in advance.
I want to take my upcoming project, with your support, even further than I took What Manner of Man. Whatever happens, Beastly and I are not going anywhere. You are not alone.
Yours in love and terror,
St John Starling
(Margaret Killjoy in Birds Before the Storm)
(Ryan Broderick in Garbage Day)
(Daniel Hunter in Waging Nonviolence)