I am seriously fascinated when the book and fashion worlds come together, whether it’s Bottega Veneta producing a stupidly expensive Strand bookstore bag, Joan Didion modeling for Céline, Canadian novelists designing womenswear, or Ottessa Moshfegh writing a short story for a Proenza Schouler fashion show. I find it intriguing—probably because my own experiences with publishing have been nowhere close to glamorous. It’s mostly windproof sweatpants and pilled cardigans around here, I’m afraid.
Sometimes this makes me feel like I’m less of a writer—being so far from New York or Toronto, a world away from the cultural elite and all the literary cool-girls—living out a quiet suburban existence in truly terrible weather.
But of course, I am a writer. A lesser one? Sure. That’s not really the point, though. I write, and that’s what makes me a writer. And occasionally, because I have been extraordinarily lucky, I get some recognition of this fact from people who are not me.
This is my roundabout way of announcing that my next book, All Our Ordinary Stories, will be published by Arsenal Pulp Press in Fall 2024.
Some of you know I’ve been working on this book in one form or another for a verrrry long time. It’s the story of my parents, how they escaped from communes during the Chinese Cultural Revolution and came to Canada, but also a story about how challenging it is to be a child of immigrants.
I started it 20 years ago as a prose memoir, and realized quickly I was out of my depth. So I enrolled in a creative nonfiction certificate program through Humber College to draft the book under the guidance of a mentor via correspondence. This was before online learning existed, people! At the end of the certificate, I had a 45,000-word manuscript, but something was fundamentally wrong with it. Not knowing how to fix it, I put it away. Then I had two kids in two years. Then the physical manuscript with all my mentor’s feedback burned in our house fire. Then I had three kids under five. Then there were many, many other happenings.
I became a writer because I wanted to write this book. And I became a writer again when I kept writing, despite my failed manuscript. Then I became a writer of graphic narratives in order to tell another story, but it also helped me find a way back into this one. And now (I hope) I can actually make the book I want. The process has not been glamorous—more like an all-out slugfest—and yet I find myself here, 18 months away from finally holding the book in my hands. (Lord-willing, as they say—I still gotta write and draw the thing.)
But yeah, I’m definitely a writer—even though I was nowhere near the launch party for Rachel Comey’s recent collection inspired by The New York Review of Books, attended by impossibly cool authors like Leanne Shapton, Heidi Julavits and Sheila Heti (all whose work I admire). I’ll have to accept that my publishing life will likely never intersect with the fashion world.
Except for what I do here in Closet Dispatch, hehe.
And the overpriced Rachel Comey leather tote I bought to celebrate my book deal:
Yes, I am fully aware that I’m a total sucker.
The tote won’t make me more of a writer—buying Air Jordans doesn’t make someone a star athlete—but it’s pretty, seems useful, and makes me happy when I look at it. Plus, I paid for it with money I made from selling my book, which is about as cool as it gets.
:) Teresa
ps. What is happening even?? Closet Dispatch is a free, limited-run weekly newsletter by Teresa Wong.
We all need a Teresa Wong tote bag (hint hint)
IT IS AS COOL AS IT GETS! I can't wait to read this, Teresa! Congrats.