I frowned. “Have you been reading my blog?”
Jihoon scoffed before a yawn took over, forcing his jaw so wide I heard the crack through the phone.
“Jagiya, of course I have. You thought I did not notice all the time you spent writing? I have eyes, and they’re usually looking at you.”
I didn’t bother hiding my grin that time.
Days later
Each day, I watched in fascination as the visitor count on my blog went up, and up. I’d cross-posted it to my socials that first day, just to see what happened. I’d never done that before, it had always felt weird, like I was advertising myself, or something. But I was proud of this piece. I wanted people to see it.
To my surprise, it kind of… went off.
Naturally, I’d used K-Pop as one of the examples I’d discussed, using it to highlight how carefully designed perfection led to a piece of music that transcended culture and language. Gave us icons to get behind, and how what often starts as a curatedimage could grow into something more organic, turning icons into heroes.
Then I had reeled it back in. Discussing western music that was universally agreed upon to be so moving that it stood the test of time and became the blueprint for what a ‘good’ ballad, or anthem looked like. Edifices of popular music that brought all kinds of demographics under the same umbrella.
To my shock, people began having discussions in the comments. Actual conversations. They were sharing it, too. By the third day, my social media post had hit a million views. A ludicrous amount, several hundred thousand past what I’d achieved before – including that one time I went semi-viral for joining a clownish dance trend.
It didn’t even matter that most of that number weren’t moving to my actual blog from the social media post, enough of them were that my little blog gained thousands of new followers.
A week after I published the essay, I’d opened my emails to find one from someone called James Macowski.
It was brief, but opening the email had the same effect I imagined opening a spring-loaded glitter bomb might have had.
Subject: Loved your blog – let’s talk.
Hey Kaiya,
I came across the piece you wrote recently and was really impressed. You have an interesting take on things, and your writing is very engaging.
I’m an editor atThe Loop, and we’re always looking for fresh perspectives. Would you be interested in freelancing a short piece for us?
Let me know if you’d be open to chatting.
Best,
James Macowski
Freelance Editor,The Loop
I lay down in bed, trying to reconcile the email with real life. I kept going back to it, checking the sender address, trying to find any obvious phishing lures, but it seemed genuine. Next, I Googled the name of the publication, though I had heard ofThe Loop.
I checked the editor’s professional social media – the same email address was listed on The Loop’s website, and on the professional account.
I checked everything I could think of, until I had to concede that this email, this completely out-of-the-blue proposition was… real.
I let the email sit there for hours as I went about my day, treating it like something too good to be true.
In my mind, if it was still there later, it was real. If it had magically disappeared, well, that would have made about as much sense as a popular publication reaching out to me off the strength off one accidentally viral essay, high on the inspiration of watching a dance practice.
It was a completely irrational reaction, but I needed to let it marinate in my mind, I needed it to settle so I could approach it with more than just a knee-jerk reaction, because stuff like this didn’t happen, surely? People didn’t get yanked off the street to become journalists – freelance, or otherwise. Right?
Except, maybe they did, sometimes.
By late afternoon, I had come to the conclusion it wasn’t a trick.
The more I thought about how this was a real email, from a real person, from a real and reputable publication, the more excited I became. I forwarded the email to Becka with a fewexclamation marks. She responded almost immediately with a photo of herself screaming, which made me laugh.
