Babygirl.

a conversation with Sudana Krasniqi

It actually took me a long time to put this conversation together, me and this guest have been planning on doing it for a very long time, and the same post you’re reading now, with the same questions, has been the one I nervously sent to her, with lots of hope that my questions could match (even if just a little bit) the heart and depth that she puts into her posts.

You might know her as that one writer that you see in your mailbox and get instant chills, or that writer who is, in fact, a love-child of Bukowski and Plath. You’ve probably heard of ‘My so-called life’ (if not, what are you doing), and you’ve probably heard of Sudana Krasniqi. Amongst the boring alpha male takes on society and random rants from that eighteen year old writer who thinks she might actually be Jesus Christ reincarnated, she’s the shining light in the mailbox. Yes, you might know her as Sudana Krasniqi, but I am proud to say that I know her as my friend Su.

It took me a long time to put this together and write this introduction because I’d like to think that we grew our substacks together and figured it out what the fuck should we write about at the same time period, which can be also called “finding our writing voice”, and we both have walked beautiful paths inside this platform by doing our own thing. I have so much respect for Sudana (the writer) and Sudana (the person), and both versions have been nothing but supportive of this crazy fever dream that I like to call my newsletter.

I’ve honestly been here for so long, and I pretty much can tell that everything is starting to sound the same around this place, but I swear to God that Sudana keeps getting better and better at this. Su, you should start working on your book and I absolutely mean it. This woman is a fucking genius and reading this woman has made me laugh and cry at the same time so many times that I think I might just call her an ex-boyfriend of mine.

I love her to death (you probably do, too), I admire her a lot, I’m inspired by her, and if you don’t know her, you do now.

I couldn’t be happier about that.

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1. ‘My so-called life’ is one of the most original, captivating newsletters Substack is proud to have, it genuinely is like a religious text to me and to some of my friends as well, and it has helped us navigate difficult phases and relationships (with ourselves, with other people), and it keeps everyone at the edge of their seats EVERY SINGLE TIME a new post comes out. You could talk about a plastic bag and I’d be devouring it. So, with that being said, how do you come up with ideas/themes to write about?

   Sudana Krasniqi: Writing to me is a bit like crochet — I spend days, even weeks, snagging at wayward pieces and stitching them together until they resemble something I can pass off as whole. It can be a vivid memory, a line I heard in a dream, a song I can’t stop hitting repeat on, an eavesdropped conversation, sometimes all of the above. It’s rare that I begin something with clear direction of how I want it to go, and surely this comes with its own frustrations and requires patience I don’t always have, but I find my best work comes from moments where I am not overly cerebral about the finicky details and let the words take shape however they may. Leonard Cohen said it best, “if I knew where songs came from I’d go there more often.”

2. As I’ve said in the introduction I’ve written while eating christmas dinner leftovers and crying over how much I love you and how much I’ve loved what you did with your genius newsletter, I realized we’ve never talked about what made us get here! Much has been said about the path we’re walking, but I genuinely wanted to know: What made you start your own newsletter?

   Sudana Krasniqi: The answer to this is both simple and then not — a few years ago, after one too many negative experiences with social media, I deactivated my IG and Facebook accounts. I found Substack a suitable place for me to tap into my writing, set goals, and mingle with like-minded people. The creative, softer side of myself was lost in the shuffle of the “daily grind”, substances with whiskey chasers, and a sea of relationships that wiped out any of my emotional capacity to nurture the poet that lived somewhere inside of me. I’m humbled and grateful to have anything at all that resembles an “audience” and am truly humbled by the response.

3. One of the reasons why we bonded so much is a favorite author we share, our beloved Tony. I know Anthony Bourdain means as much to you as he means to me, and a bond over shared love for someone is such a lovely bond to have. I will cherish that forever. You probably knew this one was coming!! So… I would love to know how much Anthony Bourdain (and other authors like him) has influenced your writing style. I see so much of him in you.

   Sudana Krasniqi: When I read this question, I cried for about ten minutes straight on the subway platform and then immediately laughed out loud thinking about how much Anthony would roast me for it. Where do I begin? Tony is the kind of New Yorker, writer, and person I aspire to be — charismatic, warm, passionate, never could say no to a beer, a little ornery and flawed, but always honest. And god, so damn funny! I’ve struggled with a lot of the same demons he did, celebrated each of his successes, and took them as an example that though we may be imperfect, we can still achieve great things.

   One of my favorite Tony moments was sometime after the release of “Kitchen Confidential”. He was invited to speak to a small Florida State writing class and said being amongst a slew of students who care about his craft was the first time he was able to leave a room feeling like an actual writer.

   That look of wonder and gratitude on his face is the way I like to remember him— a great man who’d arguably seen it all, yet still made room for the world to surprise, humble and move him. If I’m being honest, I struggle with his decision to take his own life often, and I probably always will, but that’s not for me to understand. Sometimes loving someone means loving the parts you don’t understand too.

4. So many posts we see in ‘My so-called life’ are about subjects that are not easy to approach, yet you do it masterfully. You’re able to be graceful, funny and very deep while writing about hard things to talk about, something that makes you stand out from everyone else, because everything you write about is extremely important, especially to women. How do you get in a good mental space to write about past situations in your life?

   Sudana Krasniqi : I don’t know that there is such a thing as a good mental space when writing about heavy experiences like drug addiction, depression, heartbreak, family trauma, low self-esteem etc. but I find that getting it out on paper brings me some sense of peace afterwards.

   It’s cathartic and freeing to allow your most vulnerable and fucked up parts to live somewhere other than just inside of your head. It’s then that you find that even when you are at your worst, chances are everyone else has been some version of their worst too, and can relate. It’s very important to me that I do this with some semblance of grace and humor still intact because hell, I like to laugh and laugh loudest at myself. Life is equal parts both serious business and absurd, and I think that’s beautiful.

5. Posts like “i miss my collarbones”, “he calls me “babygirl”, and “knocking the stars out of the nightsky” have been major hits (and they are definitely on my list of favorites from you) and people are so in awe of you and so impressed by your writing style and by the way you’re a natural storyteller. I can’t help but ask: What is the future of ‘My so-called life’? Is a memoir/novel coming? Please tell me about it!!!

   Sudana Krasniqi: Hats off to novelists because I really think I could never! I don’t know that I’ve got one big ol’ story in me but I sure as hell have dozens of smaller ones I’d love to live to tell. I’m working on a short-story/ essay collection— think Mary Gaitskill’s “Bad Behavior” meets Eve Babitz “Slow Days Fast Company”. Watch this space.

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