How I failed as a young author

Incredible was the satisfaction I felt after I finished my first novel in polish. I was about, I don’t even know, 18? 19? I’ve always been overly dramatic, at the same time keen on social issues. Maybe these two characteristics don’t seem to be too connected at first sight, but they are. After my first boyfriend broke up with me over Skype after, well, two and a half years together, I knew it’s the time to let my emotions out like I’m Kelly Clarkson in Since U Been Gone. That was about the time I dropped out of school and started taking British tourists to bars and clubs for a living. All of these things together made me write this unusual… piece, that many wouldn’t even call a novel. I called it, in translation, The Hookup Culture. It was about being young and gay in Poland, dealing with a break-up by drinking five vodka sodas at once, and also making fun of Krakow’s tiny and little-townish gay scene.

The pride in me was indescribable. 19 year old me was sure he’s going to win some People’s Choice Award for that book, everyone will find it funny, exciting and groundbreaking. Unsurprisingly, that wasn’t a case.

Until that cold Autumn evening at my boyfriend’s flat in Tottenham of Krakow. He cooked dinner, I was being lazy as always. Then, the email notification popped up on my iPhone. This guy from Ha!Art, huge left-wing/gay/feminist/queer/millennial publishing company emailed me, praising my book. I didn’t manage to keep it cool and told literally everyone in the gay scene, and even some people from my family, that I’m going to become a professionally published author, have my work on the shelves of high street bookshops and god knows what else. And that almost happened. They published a chapter of my book on their website(HERE, polish) and invited me for a meeting to talk about the release.

And then they stopped sending me updates. Complete silence. People kept asking about the release date, which wasn’t even a thing anymore. That was such a disappointment. Year or two later, already in England, I knew that I want to keep on writing. (In English of course, since I decided to stay.) At least that experience, however embarrassing, taught me to write for myself, and if someone else likes it one day – great!

London was such a surreal time for me. It almost felt like a girl who used to milk cows all her life was invited to Elton John’s Oscar Party. Even crossing the street felt amazing. I saw normal people on the street wearing things, in Poland only celebrities could afford. And that Hot Dog in Harrods… 20 pounds for a Hot Dog!

One time on Oxford Street, me and my best friend had noticed a guy being chased by Selfridges’ security. He clearly stole something from the ground floor, like jewelry or perfume. My friend said then: “Look at his Eastern European outfit”. I started thinking about us from that perspective. How others see us, think of us. With our Frappucinos from Starbucks, Tom Ford sunglasses, McQueen shoes, trying to be someone we were clearly not. Or at least I was not.

That’s why I started this thing, this “novel”, with all the observations and experiences from London. Parties, sex, drugs, fashion, fake people… After I finished it, I sent it to agents and publishers. I got, like, two emails back from publishers, exchanged like ten emails with one of them, but then thought it’s all not worth the effort. It’s just some short collection of thoughts and events that happened to me at 21. That’s why I decided to put it up on Amazon, firstly as an ebook, now also as a paperback. It’s called Cheap Eastern European Boys and you can buy it by clicking HERE:ebook or HERE: paperback.