5 Burning Q's With Author Taleen Voskuni & UnFCKing $
The romance novelist talks process and fanfic and I talk some real talk about money and value
5 Burning Q’s with Lavash At First Sight author Taleen Voskuni
As an Armenian-American born and raised in the US (just barely), I’m hard-pressed (outside of Los Angeles) to find folks who relate to my upbringing and unique cultural experience. Shit, most Americans have no idea what we are (West Asian), where Armenia is on a map, what the Armenian Genocide is, and what being Armenian means.
During my author interview with Taleen for Shondaland, I felt as if I had met a long-lost cousin. Her first novel, a highly relatable Sapphic rom-com called Sorry, Bro, expertly folds the complex nuances of our culture into a romantic beach read anyone can relate to. Her follow-up, Lavash At First Sight, similarly explores what it means for a woman to depart from the heteronormative relationship and find love with another woman when her culture isn’t accepting.
Taleen very kindly answered—during her pub week no less!—5 Burning Q’s I had about her book, what it means to be Armenian, and writing in general.
Lavash at First Sight is your second Sapphic romance centered in Armenian culture. Why was it so important for you to fuse queer romance with Armenian identity?
The two are so intertwined in my identity that it's difficult to separate them. Plus, there's push-and-pull there because queerness is not accepted, generally, in Armenian culture, so that conflict is something to explore. I want to delve into it and discover through writing how you can be both Armenian and queer. I love to fill my books with the sentiment of yes, you can be both. You are valid as a queer Armenian, even when it's hard.
Romance novels are your thing! Have you always loved them?
Oddly, I never read romance novels until much later in life! I was raised on a steady diet of literary fiction and missed out on the joys of romance for decades. The idea for a romance novel came to me (not Sorry, Bro, but a f/f 50 Shades of Grey) in 2016, so I figured I better start reading the genre to see what it was all about. And I fell head over heels for it!
It never ceases to amaze me how little Americans know or understand about our culture. What do you wish Americans understood about the Armenian diaspora?
It's so true. Our history isn't taught in schools and its modern-day conflicts are totally ignored by the media. I wish they understood how strange it is to be an Armenian in the diaspora. We feel caught between two worlds, nearly always. And really, how powerless we can feel when we see the Armenian genocide denied; when we watch our indigenous lands ripped from us without a peep from the news; when we witness one hundred thousand Artsakhi-Armenians ethnically cleansed from their ancestral homes while the West applauds Azerbaijan for doing it so "peacefully.” I mean, phew. It never ends. We're in this strange space of being safe here in America but not knowing how to help our homeland. It feels like even when we take action, nothing happens. That's terribly pessimistic—and I usually go through my life optimistically— but I've just seen tragedy for Armenians too many times. The part that does give me hope, though, is how fiercely Armenians are Armenian. We love being Armenian, we celebrate it, and we share it with the world.
How was writing your second novel different from your first?
It was very different! Sorry, Bro, my first book, was almost a let's see if I can do this experiment. With Lavash at First Sight, I had confidence, I know I can do this. I already had the book deal for Sorry, Bro but it hadn't launched yet, so I was in this pleasantly ignorant place where I imagined everything was going to go perfectly (and I must say, my launching debut book was a lovely experience overall), so I wrote Lavash in that headspace. I also wrote the entire thing in 4 months while pregnant with my second child, working full time, and getting a bad case of Covid. Honestly, I don't know how I pulled that off. I tend not to think of myself as a very strong person but then I look back on something like that, and, I don't know, maybe I'm mistaken.
In these FCKD up times, which unexpected guilty culture pleasure helps to neutralize your brain (Real Housewives, Heavy Metal, this kind of thing)?
Listening to fanfiction. I'm in a group chat with a couple of other authors and they were raving about two Harry Potter fanfics (and please note, this group does have its eyes wide open about JK Rowling...the beauty of fanfic is that it's always free and doesn't put any more dollars in a certain billionaire's pocket), including a couple authors who had never even read or watched Harry Potter, so I decided to give it a try. I think they might have been the best books I read last year! I already re-listened to one, and now I'm on the other. The titles are Manacled by Senlinyu and Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love by isthisselfcare. The latter inspired me so deeply I am currently writing my own (uncontracted) Armenian adventure romance novel.
On UnFCKing $$ FCKry
Photo: Pictures of Money
I don’t have to tell you life is more expensive than ever. The hole in your wallet is evidence enough. With a cumulative price increase of 66% since 2004 (and that’s for everything), it’s a travesty that pay rates for writers across industries have, at best, held steady since then. Yeah, that’s right.
Could you imagine not getting a raise for 20 years—or being offered less money than you made 20 years ago for the same work—and being expected to LIKE it? To be honored to receive it?
What other industry does this?
Once upon a time, it was the norm for journalists to command $1 or more per word for their work, but that rate is now considered a rare coup in a land where folks are routinely offered $300 ($200 after taxes) for 1200 heavily researched and edited words. Putting the research and these words together can take days. Full days. Often a few full days.
But, for the honor of being a writer, how can you support yourself—let alone a family—on less than $100 a day when you can make as much working at In-N-Out in California?
Underpaying writers has become the accepted norm. This is why the space is full of people who write in their spare time with full-time jobs, come from generational wealth, or have rich partners to subsidize their existence. No shade if this is you, but I have a family to support and do not come from generational wealth, or economic privilege. At times, I have worked three jobs just to stay afloat. Hard work and hustle have never been a problem for me, but this Capitalist gerbil-on-a-wheel nonsense is.
Granted: Some independent publications just don’t have the budget to pay more than that—and that’s fine. It’s up to you whether or not the story you get to tell is worth telling regardless. If I love the pub or the editor, I have done and will continue to do this. But larger companies who profit off our backs stay rich by perpetuating the rhetoric that we should be grateful for every scrap of work that comes our way—even if it’s exploitative and unfair.
Mind you, there would be no content for anyone to sell if we weren’t out here desperately agreeing to their terms, signing away our rights, and grinding it out for readers to consume on a merciless loop. But there’s a sucker born every minute, and right now there’s a graduating class full of them with trust funds ready, willing, and able to take a pittance for your rapidly evaporating profession (thanks, AI!).
It’s been exhausting to feel constantly and consistently devalued but, regardless of industry, to affect change, those of us who identify as women need to start demanding appropriate pay for what we bring to the table.
Which brings me to my sermon:
Always ask for the compensation you feel you deserve.
Ask for it like a rich white man would.
Consider your level of proficiency and expertise and how much your time is worth in terms of your bills: Will you spend 10 hours of your time on a story that won’t even pay your electric bill? How much will the hour (or hours) you spend commuting to a project eat into your profits?
What is fair in today’s economy?
I’ve started asking for fair wages as a matter of self-respect. Usually, people will understand you aren’t in the hustle for your health, have actual bills to pay, and will be open to a discussion or negotiation if it’s at all possible. Usually, I have success.
Sometimes rates are fixed, and that’s that. But you owe it to yourself to ask and the person you ask owes it to you to respect why you’re asking—especially in this climate.
Refusing a conversation without sympathy toward your POV speaks volumes about how much the client in question will value any contributions you make to their success. To them, you are just a dollar sign to be used and spent. That is it.
Remember: If we don’t value ourselves and our work, no one else will.
And if you agree with what I’m saying, share this article with your friends and discuss.
xx