Author’s Note: This was published on my Substack back in October, but the “hot lit girl” debate has arisen once more.
“…God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of “parties” with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear…” —The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
Making art is not a dark room. When I started submitting to journals in 2018, Lit Twitter was just forming. People were just trying to get their words out there. The concept of a “hot lit girl” was practically non-existent. We all know of the Didions, but most were selling their work as is.
In the last two years, there has been a strong resurgence of the “hot lit girl”. With the rise of books by Otessa Moshfegh and Mona Awad, the stories of slim girls in their Mary Janes have burned a hole in all our brains. They smoke Marlboro reds, have a mental illness, and know that men like them but pretend they don’t see it.
Some authors are playing on this trope, and it speaks to a wider issue surrounding your physical appearance when selling books. You’d think that people would have learned to look past physical appearance, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. We have a slew of people creating personas that are based on pearls and glamour. Instead of selling our art, we are selling ourselves.
Do you think anyone cared about what Franz Kafka looked like? Do you think the Brontës held large parties for their girlies to hype them up? No, and the Brontës in particular would have been vehemently against this trend.
The preservation of this trend only serves to harm the continuation of Literature. If I knew that my appearance was going to be important, I’d have never started this. In an era of eras, this one is particularly problematic.
Literary parties of old included slightly posh people waxing lyrical about Eliot and Pound, but the current ones are all about consumerism. There are themed tote bags, free goody bags, free Botox (a choice), and even more bizarre things. Nobody is telling you that you can’t have a celebratory party, but if those parties represent the aestheticization of art then something needs to give.
When I was at school, I was called fat and ugly almost every single day. Writing was where my appearance didn’t matter. The words I welded into a work of art mattered far more than if I was in my Lana-Del-Rey-era, and as much as I love Lana, I will never be her. I have come to realise that just being myself will provide me with far more success than any persona ever will.
Everyone is too busy wanting to be Joan Didion to see they have lost sight of what actually counts. A lot of photos I see coming from writers feel forced. Everything is orchestrated to present the image they want you to see. They need you to think that they are some Hollywood star because they believe that’s the only way they can sell books. It’s a sad state of affairs.
Those who are deeply entrenched in this lifestyle refuse to see what it’s like for regular folk. Good marketing isn’t about trying to be the next Eve Babitz, it’s about showing the world that your words matter. The phrase “just a pretty face” exists for a reason. You can be the most attractive person in the world, but without a genuine personality and connection, you will lose.
Some might say that you can be both, but this trend is not about confidence at all. This is about forcing writers into aesthetically charged boxes. We should be fighting against this idea, not encouraging it. If this continues, the world will be left with words that ring hollow.
I have come to realise that anyone who considers themselves a “hot lit girl” will deem me jealous, and while it is factually incorrect, I can’t change your mind on that. I don’t believe Moshfegh or Awad are bad writers because I don’t believe in that. My problem lies with this push for the industry to become a catwalk.
Questions have to be raised about those who use their looks to sell books. Are they that self-conscious about their work that they feel selling themselves is the only way? Why is it so wrong to point out the flaws of using cheap marketing? Anyone in life who is actually cool doesn’t have to try. Creating a persona may create a buzz at first, but it quickly fades. We want genuine people, not hollow shells of humanity.
The modelling industry has already done enough damage to society, so why would any of us want to feed into that toxicity. Are writers going to start worrying they aren’t cool enough? What happens when a commodified image overshadows the writing? Heroin chic will become heroine chic and a filtered view of yourself will become your downfall.
Having parties for your book is not a problem, and that’s not what is being discussed here. It is what the party represents: which is the concept of having to be beautiful to succeed in the industry. It’s never in a little dingy bar with some buffet food, it is always a private club with champagne towers and raspberry foam. This picture is not a realistic one, and it shouldn’t be considered as the way to market your book.
The open mics I attend are at independent cafes or small pubs, and everyone in there isn’t trying to sell an image or a persona: they are selling their work based on the words themselves. Everyone grabs a latte or a cider and chats. Nobody is wearing a Karen Millen dress or Jimmy Choos. This is the root of this essay, right here. As a woman, I don’t want to be judged on my appearance, nor do I want to sell my work based upon it.
Ultimately, there is a clear divide between those who see no problem with making the industry about nothing but shallow appearances, and those who genuinely want to make a difference with their words. Don’t forget that any of us could get into an accident tomorrow and have our appearance/life drastically changed. Looks are fallible, but what is infallible is what you say and what you do. So, if you take anything away from this, be reminded of why you started writing and what you first think of when you crack open a book.
Courtenay's Corner 