When Haven’s profile opens, the latest tweet she posted is only two hours ago, and it’s a link to an article about her UK deal. An actual article, not just a short and sweet deal announcement.
Margery Lynn at Red Line Books has landed, at a very competitive auction, at a high six-figure deal, the debut adult novel from Haven M. Lee,She Asked for It. Film rights have already been optioned, at auction, to Sony Pictures.
Pitched asYoumeets the #MeToo movement, the story follows Emma Underwood, a junior associate at a law firm who finds herself caught in a media bloodbath when she comes forward with a sexual assault allegation against her mentor and employer, who is about to obtain judgeship.
Lee graduated with a degree in pre-law from Stanford and is currently based in Los Angeles, California.She Asked for Itis her debut novel.
Lee said: “I cannot believe what a whirlwind this entire process has been from start to finish. From the moment I spoke to Margery, I knew that this book will be in the best possible hands. She just got it so completely, everything I was trying to achieve with this story. I can’t wait to see what she and the team at Red Line Books will do.”
Lynn said: “I have never come across a story likeShe Asked for It. I was on the edge of my seat the entire time I read it, and by the time I finished, I had no fingernails left! It’s the most tense, heartbreaking, and enraging read you will ever come across. A must-read for every woman in our generation. I cannot wait to introduce everyone to the brilliance that is Haven M. Lee.”
Hell, it’s such an effective article that by the end of it, I’m wishing I had a copy ofShe Asked for Itso I, too, can see what all the fuss is about. I close the tab and go back to Twitter. There is a small node of bitterness in my belly, and I know I’m feeding it with every triumphant post of Haven’s that I take in.
@HavenMLee: I am incandescent with joy to announce that I have a book deal!!! I am going to be a published author!!!(Posted along with a screenshot of her PM deal announcement.) Two thousand, seven hundred, and eighty-five likes, and over six hundred comments.
The comments are a riot of celebratory screaming GIFs and equally celebratory screaming words, all caps lock, each one peppered with half a dozen exclamation marks. And how in the world are there almost three thousand likes already? She only posted that this morning.
@HavenMLee: I never thought I had what it takes to write anything remotely approaching a novel, but my dreams have come true, all thanks to my amazing agent Rachel Reed.One thousand, six hundred, and thirty-two likes, and almost three hundred comments.
The fact that her little throwaway tweet thanking her agent got three times more likes than my deal announcement did eats away at my skin like acid. I look at Haven’s follower count. She has six thousand followers on Twitter. How in the hell? I continue scrolling, ignoring the way the bitterness is seeping into the rest of my body, tainting me with its darkness.
@HavenMLee:Um, guys? I think I’m going to have some very exciting news soon ...Over six hundred likes and two hundred comments all begging to know what it could be. Are you serious? I want to snap at the screen. I cannot stand posts like these. Coy, teasing, nothing but bait to get more attention. But look at how effective it was. And isn’t that just classic Haven?
@HavenMLee:Signing something utterly magical!!!(Posted along with a photo of her posing with a stack of papers as she smiles up into the camera.) The stack of papers is probably her numerous publishing contracts, I realize as I gaze with growing nausea at her beautiful,flawless face. This one has over a thousand likes. God, how have I missed her presence in the Twitter writing community this whole time? Even on my alternate account, which I sometimes use to trawl through Twitter, I never came across her. How can that be possible?
I scroll down faster and faster, her posts becoming a blur to me. Is it because she rarely uses the writing community hashtag? Yes, I think, that must be it. None of her posts have the hashtag. But why don’t they? Every writer I know of wants to connect with other writers. Writing is such a lonely vocation, so isolating, that we all crave connections with like-minded people, peers who know exactly what the struggle of trying to break into publishing is like. But here is Haven, hiding from Publishing Twitter, unlike everyone else. Why?
The answer, when it finally dawns, stops me cold. Because of you, a sinister voice in my head whispers. Because you are intrinsically tied to Dani, and she knows what she did. Because you are so active in the writing community. She would’ve seen your posts on Twitter. She would’ve found you. You use your real name on here, unlike on Instagram, where you use a sock puppet account to follow her. She’s got you blocked, but that wasn’t enough. She’s decided to ... what? To lie low until she can blast out of the water like a great white shark to slice you in half without you even realizing it? Ridiculous. Even though it’s true that ever since high school, Haven and I have largely stayed away from each other, I don’t believe that she’d stay out of the writing community just to avoid me.
Who says she stayed away from the writing community? The voice continues whispering.
I scroll through her posts again, this time reading the comments, and it hits me that many of these comments aren’t your run-of-the-mill congratulatory messages from random strangers. The way these writers are interacting with Haven makes it clear that they know each other. They call one another “dear friend” or “girlie” or other forms of familiar affectations. The bitterness inside me has grown so thick, so cloying, that it almost chokes me. How is this possible? She’s even friends with a lot of the people I know. We have mutuals? What?
I wonder, the voice in my head says, what she’s told them about you. What she’s told them about Dani.
And now I feel so utterly sick that I think I might actually throw up. No. This can’t happen again, not to the only community I have, the only community that I’ve devoted time and effort into turning into a safe space for myself. I cannot let it turn into another high school experience, with me as a friendless pariah. God, please no. The thought of it is so bleak that my nose starts itching, my eyes filling up with tears. I can’t stomach the thought of Haven isolating me from my writing friends with vicious gossip. It would kill me.
The thought strikes with unforgiving clarity. There is no hyperbole here. My high school experience has scarred me so badly that I didn’t let myself get close to anyone in college. I have no social life, zero friends, barely a relationship with my own parents. If I lost my online community, I wouldn’t have anything else to live for.
I shake my head. Come on, Fern, calm down. Haven Lee has a seven-figure book deal. She doesn’t have time for you. She’s moved on with her life; she’s on to much better things than picking on you. You’re not even on her radar. She’s probably not actively using the Twitter hashtag because she’s above hashtags. Right? She is exactly the sort of person who thinks she’s too good for hashtags.
My breath, previously ragged and shallow, starts to even out. Yeah, that’s right. Haven probably thinks she’s above the writing community hashtag. And she is, objectively. She is above pretty much everyone else in the debut authors group.
Oh god. The debut authors group. Haven is going to be a part of it. It feels as though someone’s just kicked me right in the belly. The private Facebook group I’d been so excited to join is going to have my high school bully in it. I close Twitter and check Facebook, and sure enough, there’s a new post in the group.
Felicity Silver:Omg my good friend Haven finally got to announce her book deal!! If you think her booksounds good, you’re wrong; it’s a million times better than good, it’sAmazing. Completely mind-blowing. I was lucky enough to read an early draft of it because we’re each other’s beta readers, and I am telling you, the world is not ready for this brilliance! @admin, can you send her an invite to join this group? She’s definitely in the 2020 debut group, and I’ve told her to register to join us plenty of times but she’s really shy so can we please send her an invite? She isThenicest person ever, I promise!
There are five comments to this post already, all of them along the lines of:Wow! Yes, we need her in our group!One of the comments is by the admin, who said:Thanks for the heads up, Felicity! I have sent her an invite.
My head swims. Darkness creeps into the edges of my vision. Am I about to faint? I pinch the back of my hand, hard enough to snap me out of whatever this lightheadedness is. This situation is so unreal that it almost makes me laugh. Because isn’t that just classic Haven—instead of having to apply to join the group like the rest of us did, to be invited to join? And also, there’s the rub—her crony vouching for her, telling us all that she is “Thenicest person ever.”
A memory of Haven in middle school, telling me “Stay away from me and my friends, you little freak!” slices through my mind like a scythe.Thenicest person ever? I beg to differ. Another memory, this one of her shoving me away so roughly that it actually jerks the thoughts out of my head and leaves me momentarily disoriented. Wouldthenicest person ever do that to a helpless kid? Pick on her just because she’s a loner? I would be the first to admit that perhaps I’m not like most people, that sure, her calling me a “weirdo” or “loser” isn’t completely inaccurate. But Haven being referred to as a nice person is so far off the mark it’s not even funny anymore.
Stop this now, I tell myself. I have spent years obsessed with Haven Lee, even after high school ended. She’s lived rent-free in my head for so long, and it took so much work for me to evict her. Not fully, obviously, since I spend time now and again to take a look at her Instagram. “Why carry the weight of her ghost on your shoulders?” my old therapist, Aliyah, said. “She’s out of your life. Maybe back in school, she had power over you because she was able to bully you, but you’re not in school anymore. You moved to the other side of the country, even. So don’t continue giving her power over you.” I started seeing her the first year I moved here. Getting therapy was the best decision I’d made for myself. It was in Aliyah’s office that I took the first steps toward healing myself after the wreckage of high school. Despite the astronomical cost of therapy, I continued seeing Aliyah for eight months before I felt stable enough to end the sessions.
And now, I have carved out a safe space for myself, and there is nothing Haven can do to ruin it. Plus, I have the upper hand; I got into the debut group first. Over the past few weeks, I have established myself as a valuable member of the group. I even have good friends, Lisa and Jenna. We’ve been emailing each other every day ever since we exchanged manuscripts, and it’s been so nice I could cry, thinking about our wonderful connection. They say three is a crowd, but I haven’t once felt that way with Lisa and Jenna, and I’m sure they feel the same way about me. Haven can’t take that away from me. In fact, I should be leaning on them right now. Isn’t that what good friends do?
I open up Gmail and pause, considering my words for a moment before typing: “Hey guys, omg, the craziest thing just happened. My high school bully has a book deal and she’s also going to debut in 2020.” I press “Send” and lean back in my seat, my heart thudding quickly.
