![]() She became, as well as a bestseller, a marketable Australian face of #MeToo-a movement that I felt ought to be incompatible with individual faces and brand campaigns. ![]() She had a background in fashion and content creation, having spent time in New York interning for the influencer Zanita Whittington. She was a skilled speaker, in that Law-degree-to-public-intellectual-pipeline way. Lee’s writing, while proficient and often galvanising, seemed secondary to her capacity for brand building. There were other things, though, that contributed to my unease. Largely, this was for reasons of professional jealousy: here was a young (younger than me) writer making actual money from her writing, while it became increasingly clear that the book I’d centred my life on for the past few years would struggle to earn back the modest advance I’d sold it for. Lee’s bestselling memoir Eggshell Skull came out in the same year as my second book. She struck me as equal parts ambitious and insecure-qualities that I shared and didn’t enjoy seeing in another. I suspect that my style of working didn’t look like work to her, that I annoyed her by doing stuff like banging the ice tray on the counter while she typed at the kitchen table. She was twenty-four and had recently sold her debut memoir. ![]() At the time, I was twenty-six and had recently published my debut short story collection. Image: Canva collage, Allen & Unwin and years ago, I spent two weeks on a writing retreat with the well-known writer Bri Lee, before her name was well known.
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