The Selling of Stories
The Idea of You, Bon Jovi, Kendrick vs Drake and the Construction of Their Stories
Time can be the best teacher if we listen. So much wisdom and direction can be supplied in its construct. One of my favorite forms of direction from time is the concept of themes. In the name of synchronicity, common themes pop up within a certain time frame repeatedly—until whatever the universe, God, karmic energies, or whatever you believe in grabs your attention. Most recently, a theme I noticed I had to reckon with was that of forgiveness. As a people lover, I know this shouldn’t be a hard concept, but when people seek forgiveness, it generates a lot of pain in the most turbulent times, complicating things. Nevertheless, there was a reason it occurred all at that time. There was definitely something for me to learn and gain. All I had to do was pause and listen.
Within the last few weeks, the concept of selling stories has cycled within my periphery numerous times. And I’m not sure what to make of it, but I know it’s there, and maybe I can figure it out through reflection.
The Idea of You
Anything fiction based on Harry Styles has my attention. I’m pretty much guaranteed to give it a chance, but of course, quality is what keeps me reading. So, it was no surprise I had dived into The Idea of You by Robinne Lee. I devoured the story, enjoyed it, and moved on, but once I heard a film adaptation was coming, I delighted in seeing Anne Hathaway fall into the protagonist and also how production drew from Harry’s time in One Direction. Especially as Kristin Cavallari is living a very Americanized version of this story now—my weakness.
Yet, learning the identity of author Robinne Lee stunned me, and it seemed like so many others were having the same moment at the same time. I had seen her while doom-scrolling on Twitter—we shall never acknowledge it as X. She was quoted for an interview. Her photo was side by side next to a screenshot of Anne Hathaway and Nicholas Galitizine. Robinne Lee, posed with a megawatt smile, a classy red lip, and sleek dark tresses, is a Black woman.
Immediate intrigue sparked and sent me down a spiral.
Of course, anyone can write anyone’s stories—as long as they do so with research, sensitivity, care, and integrity. However, I know how critical it is for Black writers to create representation in literature. I know that writers generally write from their reflection, therefore implanting pieces of them in their book’s worldbuilding and characters. Naturally, I felt there was something to Robinne’s decision to publish a story without one single main character of color.
My inquiry was answered when Kathleen Neuman-Bremang wrote a story for Refinery 29. In black & white, Robinne Lee addressed the elephant in the room and expressed she had tried selling a story with a Black character before writing The Idea of You.
My experience going to the world, as a Black woman, is different. The way the world responds to you is different. When I write for a Black character, my point of view is completely different. The world reacts to her differently. If Solène was a Black woman showing up with this guy who's half her age and white, it would have been a whole thing. Plus, she's got a daughter and that would have been even more drama and tension than I wanted to deal with [in this story]. But also, full disclosure, I spent six years writing a book prior to writing this book. Right before The Idea of You [I wrote a book] that I could not sell. It was a Black protagonist. There was a white love interest. And one of the responses I got from an editor at that time was, “Oh, well, no, we already have an interracial relationship that we're putting out this year.”-Robinee Lee
What a gut punch. And should I have been surprised? No. Her explanation is the shared experience of many Black authors, including myself. I intuitively expected this reasoning. Yet, the reality of it has eaten at me for weeks. It is an effect of systemic racism. That stupid beast that sprouts four heads for each one you cut off. I know where it lives. I know the gates it guards. I know how to make do outside or within those gates if I sometimes manage to hop the fence with success. But I’m just tired and heartbroken.
I want to be clear that my sentiments are not directed towards Robinne. I have respect for her, and I am proud of her success. I am inspired by it. Her route isn’t mine, but I can still feel defeated and happy for her as several opposing emotions can occupy humans simultaneously. I am upset with the entertainment and publishing industry. Authors of color and diverse stories are already very limited and highly banned. In every sector of life, there seems to be this concept of “There can only be one Black anything,” as Robinne and many of my peers have articulated. When asked how we can get our stories sold, a common response is, “Write something so good no one can say no.”
And this is what Robinne Lee did. Not just down to her plot with the amazing narrative of tackling ageism in women 40 and over, but also to the extent of writing her characters as white. Those characters get a different chance. Those characters read differently. They have better odds—data supports this.
I am a lover of stories. I love people. I crave connection. I can empathize with characters who don’t share my race, gender, sexual orientation, or religion. I want everyone to see themselves. I listen to a story’s plot and determine if it appeals to me. That’s it. I know so many who do the same as well. But this is not reflective of the world at large. And so, here we are. Forced to fight for representation and righteousness more than we’d like to or play the game.
Playing the game is not something I have in me at this time. That is not why I decided to write books and publish them myself. It has been hard to stay hopeful in light of this information. Full transparency: I have been fighting sad girl imposter syndrome more than usual. I know it will pass with some work and tlc. However, at the end of the day, my brain reminds me many battles remain ahead of me. I just need to stay present, fill my cup when I can, and polish my armor in preparation.
Bon Jovi and Thank You, Goodnight
Goodness. Where do I begin in expressing my adoration for Bon Jovi? It’s kind of a funny one. You see, dear reader, I’m from Long Beach, CA. I was born there and lived a decent chunk of my childhood in that beautiful melting pot. I was also an only child with a very active and spongy mind. I latched on to everything. So many of my vivid memories of living in Long Beach consist of my times at Shoreline Beach—riding the merry-go-round, eating my fill of seafood, playing in the sand, getting sand in my hair, and earning a scolding from my mama, who would have to wash said hair unplanned, and watching the fireworks over the Queen Mary at night. Life there in the 90s was a vibe. Full of art and the best food and scene. Background music made the experience that much better. Whether it was music blaring from boats, low riders, or the speakers of restaurants resting on the shore, I loved everything I heard, and I would do my due diligence to find out which artist sang what—thank you, Vh1 and MTV, the kids need you still.
As you can imagine, I would strangely create characters in my mind tied to the bands and their aesthetics. When I heard and saw Bon Jovi’s videos, I associated them with Kelly Bundy and girls who looked like Traci Lords. Why did I know who Traci Lords is? Don’t ask me. I really don’t know, but I can guarantee you it was probably from watching Sally Jesse Raphael and Crybaby. I created some character in my head that would date Jon Bon Jovi and live this insane life as a girlfriend to a rockstar (do I need to write my own The Idea of You?) I kid, but I have always been a storyteller who wanted to know more about people and how they came to be as we know them. I have always loved stories and documentaries. If there is a full-length, well-done documentary on interesting figures, I count down to its release like one would the New Year.
And I did this with Thank You, Goodnight. I was instantly obsessed with the trailer and the promise of the truth of Bon Jovi’s rockstar life, brotherhood, and the uncovering of an era long gone but nostalgically missed. When my girlfriends made plans for us to hang out as our kids played, I reminded them of my plans to watch this four-part series. I wrote it on my calendar. So please understand that when I sit here and tell you how underwhelmed I am with the docuseries, I’m being honest.
The intrigue of the docuseries was built with commentary from the band’s frontman, Jon Bon Jovi, when he said, “Everything is exposed.” However, within minutes of starting the series, lead guitarist, Richie Sambora teases mischievously, “Are we telling the truth or are we gonna lie — what are we gonna do?” This dichotomy set a tone for what I perceived as a sanitized, spotty, disorienting, and derivative documentary of a fascinating and talented band. Granted, Jon Bon Jovi explained he gave full rein to the editors and creators of the documentary. Despite feeling strongly about documenting the archive of his life’s work and career, he did not want to interfere in their process—which I respect and admire.
At the very least, that much was clear within the material filmed. The piecing together of the story, the transitions, and the jumps from present-day to past reminiscings are what created a lagging confusion. I’ve learned a lot about how hard it is to make things over the years, so I always approach criticism with respect as it takes courage, time, and money to produce any work of art. Among that lesson also lies other truths, like the power editing. Material is very important; you can’t sculpt or edit what doesn’t exist. This is why it is said, “Magic occurs in editing.”
A film or show can change entirely from editor to editor. It’s a matter of style, preference, and story interpretation—feeding a story in doses and lifting the audience up to break them down and make them empathize or react. An editor is a maestro—guiding psyches and senses through a symphony of sound and the mediums they’ve mastered. They show you the narrative, they don’t tell you them directly. They shape what is to be taken away.
In Thank You, Goodnight, what was the takeaway? What was the story? With too much time spent in the present-day in each episode and the band’s humble origin, the film skimmed through the most enticing parts: the actual rock star years. It provided an overview and lumped it together, presenting it as a blur of non-stop touring without diving into the debauchery or exact brewing divisions of an overworked band with the world at their fingertips. We got none of that and did not hear from those outside the music industry, like fans of Bon Jovi. Hearing from them, a primarily female audience would’ve probably made all the difference in explaining how the band wasn’t always critically acclaimed but crowned by the public. No deep mention Jon’s exploration of acting. (Does anyone remember him from Sex and The City?) No rich segments depicted the balance of maintaining their personal lives either, and I suppose the documentary team felt we knew enough of Richie Sambora and Heather Locklear’s relationship. The same for Jon Bon Jovi and his longtime love Dorothea Hurley, but no…we do not.
I was waiting for the hit, the real burst of nostalgia and discussion of creation and aesthetics. A band with teased hair, tight pants, ripped shirts and oversized leather jackets with fringe for sure has some stories and inspiration to tell. But it was all skimmed. No detail of any thoughts of animosity during fights, no detail on arguments, no detail on the infidelity that comes with being married to a rockstar. In fact, we had to get the ugly truth from a separate ABC special interview with Michael Strahan in which Jon Bon Jovi explained, "I'm a rock 'n' roll star, I'm not a saint. I'm not saying that there weren't 100 girls in my life. I'm Jon Bon Jovi." In an interview with The Independent, he also elaborated, “These are all the wonderful clichés of rock stardom,” he told the publication. “It’s about never lying about having been a saint, but not being a fool enough to fuck up the home life, either.”
These details from the Harry Styles of his genre and generation were everywhere but the documentary. While I believe public figures are entitled to privacy and respect—particularly their families—I’m also confused about how such a subject can go unturned when a rock star agrees to a documentary in which everything is exposed. It doesn’t seem to be an issue of the band themselves, at least. As we can see, Jon shared it with others. I would’ve liked to see it explored in the docuseries, as anyone who manages to come out of such a career with their marriage intact has something special and rare.
Lastly, the biggest slip was failing to bite into the band’s most impactful songs. Their composition, their legend, and their appeal were covered with such a mundane approach. Slippery When Wet is one of the most amazing power ballad stadium tour albums of its time, with “Living on a Prayer” working as its sermon. On its own, it is a stairway to heaven, with striking notes and compositions that evoke elation. It is gospel—and why hasn’t the Black church been invited to sing background during a performance or two? A missed opportunity I’ve ever seen one. It is the song I have to sing if I am ‘pressured’—so gently—to karaoke. How many artists have a song like that? How powerful would the buildup and exploration of capturing lighting in a bottle with this song and album have been in contrast to Jon Bon Jovi’s present vocal condition and struggles? If it were presented in such a way, we would see and feel the impact of a vocal giant in close proximity to his morality. Spooked and humbled by it, he experiences lows and sadness as the thing that thrills him to live is no longer guaranteed. A giant, a god who at times reached divine heights in his blessed talent, realizes he is mortal. Something akin to Kobe Bryant’s Muse. That is a story! That is what I wanted.
A four-part docuseries on a band with a career that spans four decades should promise deep insight and introspection. Some hard truths and humility. A lot of good, bad, and ugly followed by a celebration of “Damn, we made it out of that, and this is what our journey has meant.”
2024 is the Year of Fighting
You’ve surely heard all about Kendrick Lamar and Drake’s rap beef by now. And you surely have an opinion or two on it. I’m not sure I have much to contribute to this discussion at this time, but I'm anticipating some great points of intrigue unfolding as this story/saga sells to its audience. The greatest was Kendrick Lamar's cultural commandeering of hip-hop. What we see Kendrick display from his side of the offense is a narrative—not on the legitimacy of Drake’s Blackness, but how he uses it. The above sentence should tell you all you need to know, as Blackness is not something to be used. It is not a tool. It is not tangible, nor a costume. Culture is inherent, it cannot be removed. Yet, Drake cosplays in the guise of homage to Black American hip-hop artists, using various cultures from the Black American diasporas to raise his capitalist portfolio for himself and big music executives. This has caused a deep chasm between him and his industry peers. It’s certainly made me stop buying his records. He hasn’t grown with his music and audience as he should’ve. He’s frozen in amber—and at his worst form. Operating as someone he isn’t and living as a husk.
The most interesting angle to me at this time is: What will this ongoing story do to Drake’s future legitimacy? People have short memories. Will the public forget? Will Drake go on to be the “6 god”, a persona he designed himself to be? Will his card stay pulled and permanently redub him the “69 god”? Whew.
As a rapper, his identity as a mixed-race Jewish child actor from Canada who made melodic soft rhymes about his endless list of muses gave him a broadened audience. I was in college when Drake’s mixtapes gave way to his first and second albums—an unforgettable period of bizarre business casual at the club. Peep-toe heels, vests, dress pants, button-ups, and all. The worst! And at said clubs were men of various races and backgrounds bumpin’ his music from the car, dressing like him, getting the same lineup as him, and eventually saying the same things he said. And when I say the same, I mean the SAME. They were always too comfortable with his songs, which shocked and disturbed me. Then suddenly, a hip-hop subculture sprouted after the culmination of additional albums, social media influencers, and the marriage of Kim Kardashian and Kanye West. Common yet niche fashions, slang, behaviors, and other nuances weren’t staying within an authentic community. They were deemed part of a generational internet lexicon. As such, Drake has manifested into the ultimate tastemaker of generations younger than him. That’s who he speaks now. That’s who he’s stayed behind for. They know nothing of the shoulders Drake stands on—and perhaps feel nothing when Drake regards Kendrick as someone who ‘raps like he’s trying to free the slaves.’ (Really?) All they see is him and the example he sets. And for someone who loves Black culture and hip hop as much as Kendrick, it’s not hard to imagine how long his list of “Things I Hate About Drake” has piled up.
In four songs, Kendrick reclaimed the wheel—steering hip hop away from the path it didn’t intend to veer off to. Four songs—in the span of a week—was all it took to shed light on the past 15 years. Regardless of whose side you choose, the fact remains that the first week of May 2024 brought a lot of much-needed introspection to the table—with some antics. Some true! Some false! Time will only tell what the ending of this story will look like, but for now, it is one of authenticity and why staying true to yourself and allowing for growth, humility, and connection will always be the right choice.
Pop Culture Pleasantries and Anniversaries:
X-Men ‘97: X-Men fans, it is our time! And when I say X-Men fans, I mean those of us who loathe the movies but love the comics. This animated series has brought such rejuvenation to my favorite fictional characters. The artists who have worked on this project are wholehearted X-Men fans to the bone—caring about including the heart of what makes this team of freaks endearing and intriguing. Yes, we come for the powers and sci-fi, but the soap opera element is second to none. In what other plot is a married man sleeping with the clone of his wife, who then has his baby, only to find out his actual wife was nowhere to be found until the most inconvenient of times? And trust, it gets messier than that. What a blast.
Sabrina Carpenter: Not much to say! But oh, so much to say. Ms. Carpenter’s quirky and flirty sense of humor in her pop melodies has been such a breath of fresh air. She’s fun, bright, cute, feminine, and talented. My goodness, is she what Pop has needed? She is having an incredible renaissance, and it has been fascinating watching her grow from her Girl Meets World days as Maya Hart to now.
Infinity Song: These siblings are what I thought my sisters, and I would be if our parents invested in our short-lived dreams of being in a band. They responded by bringing home the game ‘Rock Band’ and basically asked us if we have “We want to start a band money?” So, we played and imagined. But when we played, I saw this. I heard this. We never got there, and who knows who we could’ve been, but this beautiful family makes me feel at peace. Their harmonies, melodies, and lyrics bring me so much calm and food for thought. Naturally, they are heavy on my writing playlist!
RIP MCA: As of May 4, 2024, it’s been 12 years since the passing of one of my favorite artists, Adam “MCA” Yauch. The Beastie Boys are such a large part of my creative DNA, and no, not only as MCs, but for their style, approach, authenticity, versatile creative paths, and the ability to atone for their own mistakes—which they recognized resulted in the misleading of the youth at times. He once spoke of his past behavior in the wake of his growth by saying, “I’d rather be a hypocrite, than the same person forever.” MCA was very much a human who made music for a living, and I loved that The Beastie Boys always read that way to me—not as celebrities. License To Ill was the first vinyl I ever owned, a gift from my dad’s collection. I played it out like mad, as these guys were the first representation of individuals encompassing facets of subcultures I was close to: punk rock, hip hop, and skate culture. I remember my sisters and I wanting to be like them and how interesting it was that we didn’t care about gender; it was all about essence. And as much as I wanted to be Ad Rock, I wasn’t. My sisters always made me MCA, and as I got older (and after watching A Beastie Boys Story on AppleTV), I understood why. In reflection, it feels like a little badge of honor.
Monthly Watch List: My curated list of what’s hot, sentimental, seasonal, and fun to watch or revisit!
Bridgerton S3 (Here for the vibes, but will anything ever measure up to Queen Charlotte?)
Challengers
Under the Bridge (Based on a true story that shows how vicious schoolgirls can be.)
Deadboy Detectives
Emma (2020) (The most beautiful film. The scenes look like paintings—yet good enough to eat.)
Lady Bird (Spring is a good time to reflect on the clash of girlhood and motherhood. Let’s get some daily cries and laughs in.)
Sugar (Colin Farrell is back as a sexy detective. ‘Nuff said.)
Love in the Afternoon (Always have to include a classic in every list. And Audrey Hepburn? Say no more. She embodies Spring!)
Sabrina (I said say no more—it’s Audrey Hepburn!)
A Beastie Boys Story (for MCA! It's a five-star watch I stream annually. I will never forgive myself for not seeing them tell their story live. Also, this is how to chronicle a career!)
Beverly Hills 90210 (Yup, I’m going for it. My first time watching the show and I cannot wait for the 90s teen drama—the Spelling way. Head to my IG stories to keep up with my first impressions of the show.)
That’s it for me. I’ll be popping back in soon before I start my summer of drafting the next two books for The Gifted Society—which will be so wild and deliciously emotional and dark—yet romantic. I’m excited to get back to that.
Talk with you all soon with so much more to come!
—Tati