2018 year in review
I saw a bunch of other professional writers doing roundups on Twitter of their favorite content from the past year, so in classic Katie style I figured I should do the same thing, just, like, a week later.
Here are a few KatyKatiKate highlights from 2018! Enjoy, lovers.
KatyKatiKate 2018: By The Numbers
Posts Published: 65
New Patrons: 133
Pieces Published on Other Platforms: 15
(NBC News THINK, CNN, BUST, Upworthy, Scary Mommy, The Big Smoke, The Good Men Project)
Best Mansplain in the Comments Section:
In the comments of “You Could Say We’re Pissed,” a rage aria about the Kavanaugh hearings:
Please everyone take a deep breath. Gather your intellect and logic. Then look at this situation again. I think you may find the facts in this case are not as bad as you think they are. - Bobby
Most Read & Shared
(3,187,519 views and growing)
January 15, 2018
Grace's story is common. It's so common that I don't have to imagine it because I remember it. I laugh about it without smiling. It's the story of so much bad sex. And when I hear that bad sex described as a sexual assault, it forces me to reexamine my own history. And see, I just started feeling strong again.
I believe her; I don't agree with her.
I'm telling you this not because I think she is wrong,
but because I think I am.
You have to understand that many women approach humiliating and uncomfortable sex from a place of "it's not that bad."
Hardest to Write
November 20, 2018
CW: Infant Loss
I hate the expression “lost the baby.” As if the child was keys or a library book. As if mindfulness or a conveniently-placed hook could have prevented it. As if it could be found again.
People say it because nobody wants to say “The baby died.” I don’t blame them, but I’ll tell you, people who have been there when a baby died don’t flinch at those words the way they flinch at the idea, sometimes unspoken, sometimes said right the fuck out loud, that they are the ones who lost their babies.
“She lost the baby.”
She did? No, but they were just right here. But she’s so sorry. But she didn’t mean to. But she did everything right. She retraced her steps.
Most Satisfying Rage Stroke
September 28, 2018
I want to pepper spray Chuck Grassley right in the asshole. Yeah, I said it. I have a can of bear spray that I want to shove straight up his pooper. I want him to be embarrassed about the nature of his pain.
I want to punch Orrin Hatch in the throat every time he tries to talk. I want him to feel what it’s like to stop yourself before you speak, to weigh if it’s going to be worth the pain.
I want to stuff Brett Kavanaugh into a medium-sized dog crate full of greasy, black Brooklyn train track rats that haven’t eaten in a week. I want him to feel a thousand tiny nibbles on his skin. I want him to panic. I will let him out when he is sorry for being one of those fucking rats.
Most Effortless Post
(Arrived in My Brain Complete and Poured Out of Me in 6 Minutes Flat)
November 10, 2018
I wish someone would draw me a hot bath or turn on the shower while I selected my favorite book from the shelf. I wish I could dip my toes into the water or dance my fingers under the spray, find the temperature just right, and then step in.
I wish someone would stand outside the tub, holding open an enormous, me-sized towel. I wish they’d wrap me up from my shoulders to my toes. I wish they’d smell my hair, say, “Mmmmm…” and pronounce me “amazing.”
Scariest to Publish
November 8, 2018
White women are women,
but don’t forget: We are also white. And it’s easier for a white woman to side with all white people than all women. It’s more comfortable to be a white person in America than a woman in America.
Did the Most Rewrites (14)
& Took the Longest to Write (16 months)
December 17, 2018
I didn’t like the way The Teacher would sometimes appear when I was on my own, early to class or staying late after rehearsal. I did not like walking by his office because I knew I would lean in the doorway to say hello. I wanted him to look at me, talk to me. He’d look into my eyes and see my eagerness fighting wariness, and then say something perfectly innocent. I’d relax a little, and then he’d do something: a little squeeze around my waist, a long look from my head to my toes, a jump of his eyebrows with a guttural “Mm.”
Silly girl, nothing about him was really innocent. Silly rabbit, you relaxed and look what happened. Now you’re lunch.
The One I Was Really Proud of that No One Read
March 6, 2018
If a stranger strokes me and says, "Oh she's beautiful," will you smile proudly and say, "Thank you. Yeah, she's a real sweetheart."
Are you proud of yourself for rescuing me?
On a scale of 1-10, how into balls do you expect me to be?
I Think It’s The Funniest One But Who Am I To Say
October 2, 2018
You know how sometimes you’ll meet an absolute abomination of an adult human being and you automatically check the Venn diagram of that person and your child, to see if there’s anything you need to eradicate from your child while there’s still time?
I’m not the only one who does this, right?
Welcome to “Kavanaugh Avoidance Theory” Parenting.
Before we go, I want to give a quick shout out to the people who make work possible:
Patrons, Matrons, and Theytrons
I literally just wrote a post about how you make all things possible with your support, not just for me but for all readers. Thank you. You’re the fucking best.
Thank you so much for being here, sharing, holding me accountable, reaching out, and generally being the best damn readers in the whole wide web.
You designed MY blog, not the blog YOU thought I should have. I never had to fight with you to get what I wanted. You rolled with me when I was indecisive and freaking out and you made me feel safe enough to reveal exactly how tech-incapable I truly am. And on the day we launched the new site and some old links broke, resulting in a whole bunch of pissy emails to me saying things like “No no no no no” and “I was trying to read a post but?” and “This is bullshit you suck,” (thanks, Rick, you too!) you fixed it in less than 10 minutes and never even called me a shrill harpie when I called you all 17 times and emailed you all-caps emails IT’S BROKEN HELP ME CALL ME. Clinton, Josh, and Tina, you are the fucking bomb.com.
das my ry
Thank you for reading my shit, always listening while I’m working something out, being game for our life to be shared with whomever wants to click on it, co-parenting our kickass, ass-kicking children with me, and for loving me not in spite of, but BECAUSE of my ornery potty mouth.
Ronit Feinglass Plank, Michele Bacon, Carrie King, Sean Mellott, Adana Protonentis, Tim Gittings, Michelle Bohn, Shana Cunningham, & Ryan Cunningham - Creative work is an iceberg business. For every square inch of work that emerges into the air and light, there’s an acre of cerebral labor that you never, ever see, locked in the airless depths of this writer’s head, which is a place where it is terribly easy to forget which way is up. Thank you for reading drafts, for answering questions. Thanks for being there to answer the panicked/panic-giggling text, tweet and FB message. Thanks for commiserating, orienting, no-bullshitting, and laughing at our shared miseries and victories. Thank you for letting me be there for you, too. xoxo
Thank you for always having a smart, measured, no-bullshit take. I strongly suggest y’all follow Hypatia’s posts if you’re looking for funny, thoughtful, toothy insights on the events of the day, politics, race, sex, culture, and LOVE! and DOGS! and LIFE!
Thanks for being real about how much work goes into writing, for refusing to compromise on your own value, and for having absolutely no time for malarkey, nonsense, asshattery, or tomfoolery of any stripe.