kate goldbeck 💕 YOU, AGAIN is out now
@kategoldbeck
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“bestselling” author & chaotic mess 💕 YOU, AGAIN (a modern twist on When Harry Met Sally) out now from Dial Press/Random House 💕 rep: @gaia_banks
Joined September 2018
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YOU, AGAIN out this fall…
🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍
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💓💓💓 i finally installed my little free library for romance novels. 💓💓💓
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It's 2 a.m. I've had some drinks.
And I don't understand this universe where Palpatine fucks and this man dies a virgin. 👇👇
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how it started —> [fast forward 2 years of edits and reworking] —> how it’s going
i owe *everything* to the community i met in fandom. 🫶🫶
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🔥🍳 PREHEAT 🔥🍳
Two strangers are stuck in their apartment building.
Ben is mastering spectacular new recipes.
Rey is very hungry.
[a chaotic reylo tweetfic experiment🤦♀️]
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Okay, but what if DarkRey didn't immediately physically attack with her crazy saber staff and sharp teeth? 😂
What if she had been kind of appealing and seductive?
You know, showing that the dark side can be legitimately tempting, instead of just SCARY?
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All Men: “turn off your brains, it’s Star Wars!”
SW Author Men: “why haven’t you female Kylo Ren fans shown me the receipts on your commitment to prison abolitionism?”
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One thing I've noticed in my TFA rewatches, is that JJ loves to film Kylo with a moving camera, often ending shots with a canted angle. The camerawork matches his emotional state, beat for beat—with the last frame being the most crooked, the most unhinged.
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🍾🥂 Pop the champagne! Cue my raging case of imposter syndrome!
✨😱😭✨
MY NOVEL FOUND AN INCREDIBLE HOME AT THE DIAL PRESS / RANDOM HOUSE.
✨😱😭✨
For now, I've set up a mailing list at the best URL (real website in progress)
[1 / 🥴???]
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Y'all. This is the good place. We made to the timeline where Ali writes a paranormal romance. 🥲
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oh cool. when men post star wars fics online, they call them "concept screenplays"
gonna try that.
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bold of this meme to assume i bothered to write out a to-do list instead of just challenging my brain to remember it all!
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Two men get paid millions to tell a story that doesn't make sense.
Hundreds of women invest their time and effort into "fixing" it.
I suspect that some people will spend more time writing a fix-it fic than was spent writing this screenplay.
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Adam saw this aesthetic and refused to come in for a reshoot
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For the “North & South” fans...
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Lets get a better look at the ART:
Ari and Josh making angry/unresolved sexual tension eyes at each other in front of a bookstore AND a pizza rat. (As we know, it's not romance unless there's a rat eating a NY slice, witnessing the whole thing.)
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👀 this happened??
and it never would have been possible without this community—on many levels.
so…
if you’re a fanfic writer working towards the goal of publishing and you want some help, advice, or encouragement, please reach out—especially marginalized writers.
🫶🫶
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Much to Hux's dismay, the door of Unit 3C continues to function as a hallway bulletin board/sanitation nightmare.
Sometimes he still wonders what became of Red Post-it. They had a certain chemistry, didn't they?
✍️✍️✍️
THE END
[thanks to
@spiegatrix
👇😘]
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HIRE WOMEN AS WRITERS AND DIRECTORS.
HIRE WOMEN AS WRITERS AND DIRECTORS.
HIRE WOMEN AS WRITERS AND DIRECTORS.
HIRE WOMEN AS WRITERS AND DIRECTORS.
HIRE WOMEN AS WRITERS AND DIRECTORS.
HIRE WOMEN AS WRITERS AND DIRECTORS.
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The Empire Strikes Back script is really something
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HE HANDED YOU A FUCKING HERO/VILLAIN FORBIDDEN AFFAIR! YOU HAVE AN OSCAR FOR FUCK'S SAKE
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🍂🍁 YOU, AGAIN 🍂🍁
A love letter to romcoms, NYC, witty banter, and smut 😊
I can't wait for you to meet Ari and Josh and feel all the things.
Epic illustration by the incredible
@nicolerifkin
🤩
(forever grateful for RTs 🥹)
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Two years later: WOMAN DEBUTS ON THE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER LIST. 💅💅💅
Two men get paid millions to tell a story that doesn't make sense.
Hundreds of women invest their time and effort into "fixing" it.
I suspect that some people will spend more time writing a fix-it fic than was spent writing this screenplay.
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Yeah, he's been delaying this part.
Because Rey somehow looks fucking radiant during a pandemic.
She's probably someone who initiates personal conversations with Uber drivers. Who asks if she can pet your dog. Who's been in all her friends' weddings.
And he’s very much...not.
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His door is mortifying.
After a 10 minute spiral of panic and self-criticism, Ben sweeps everything into the recycling bin, looks up the most Rey-esque recipe he can find ("Fudgy Brownie Cookies"—the instructions include winky emojis) and pulls himself together, Post-it-wise.
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Rey lingers in front of the peephole for a few seconds after pressing the note to his door.
There's 1.75 inches of fiberglass between them. Less than two little inches—and a deadbolt—stopping her from unraveling weeks of safe, civically responsible celibacy.
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When Ben moved into the building, he hadn't imagined himself foraging a makeshift bouquet from the overgrown landscaping in the courtyard, but this is a strange timeline.
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Remember how this was really moving and even though Killmonger hadn’t “redeemed” himself in the SW sense, you really fucking FELT THIS?
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Ben sees it on the door when he returns from his daily excursion to the trash chute.
A bright pink rectangle, hanging on by one corner, just below the 3C.
"Rey."
The name means nothing to him, but it's not as if he's bothered to meet anyone in the building.
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"The fuck….?" Rey says aloud, to her empty apartment, kicking the door closed with her foot.
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Intellectually, Ben knows that her creation is the kind of desperation meal his dad would make, only to watch his son refuse to eat it.
But against all odds, he finds himself devouring Rey's totchos, craving more grease, salt...and something he can't quite put his finger on.
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To be fair, Ben does peruse a Serious Eats listicle on "upgrading instant ramen."
He has miso paste, white pepper, chili oil. A lime. An egg that he could easily poach.
But she refers to him as "sir," briefly rendering him unable to do anything more complex than boil water.
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Mashed potatoes remind him of tension-filled Thanksgivings. Leia in an apron, pretending she cooked the food she ordered, Han nervously watching the game he put too much money on, his uncle pontificating about mindfulness retreats.
He's always hated mashed potatoes.
Until now.
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Meanwhile, Ben loses track of time at his desk.
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“Totchos?” he says aloud, pulse racing.
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Rey sticks her whole face inside the plastic bag, taking the deepest breath of her life.
The scent is—it's delicious but it's so much more than that. Almost like…
...well, maybe she's just so carb-deprived that anything freshly baked will make the back of her neck prickle.
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The truth is, Ben never had any milk chocolate in his pantry. He'd hedged his bets on dark, because who in their right mind prefers milk fat and sugar to 87% cacao?
Rey does, probably.
But it's nothing that a quick trip to the store can't fix.
He has a mask, after all.
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His airtight container of SAF Red Instant Yeast in the freezer suddenly seems like an investment on par with the 12-pack of Clorox disinfecting wipes he'd purchased back in February.
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Sometimes I still cannot *believe* there was a shirtless scene that was totally unexplained. There was no explicit indication that he was working out or changing or about to sleep.
He was just not wearing a shirt and also wet and/or oiled up.
WHAT ⭐️ THE ⭐️ FUCK.
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It's very impressive that Ben can make bolognese with approximately 45 ingredients, but Rey is very pleased with her parmesan-paprika hair.
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He leans the papers against the door frame, lingering for a few seconds, when he hears a woman's voice—Rey?—speaking at that weird raised volume people only use on conference calls.
"Kay? Kay, you're on mute. The presentation's on Tuesday?"
That's been his life, too, lately.
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Ben manages to resist the urge to open his door until 9 a.m. the next morning.
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It's been 11 days, 5 hours, and 42 minutes since Rey last ate bread, not that she's counting.
Not that her mouth is already watering in anticipation.
Not that she can almost hear the crunch of the crust and taste a pat of butter melting into the tender crumb.
Fuck.
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Rey throws her door open, leans out, and looks left, toward the stairs. No one's there.
Dammit.
She's been hoping for a visual. Something for her stir crazy brain to work with.
Because the wording of his instructions is kind of...
Her eyes remain fixed on the last two lines.
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Rey lingers 6 feet back from 3C. Her hourly laps keep getting longer—more about dawdling than stretching her legs. Hoping and dreading that his door will open.
There's a rich, comforting scent—lunch?—permeating the hallway. Filling her lungs.
It makes her weak in the knees.
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Rey presses the last square down with a little loop of tape.
Maybe it's just because she's binging Outlander, but she's been picturing Jamie in the kitchen of 3C, sleeves rolled up, with a towel over his shoulder.
She silently prays that Ben is, at least, not a senior citizen.
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Rey had given up on any kind of beauty routine after Day 2 of Zoom calls. Just the act of putting on a fresh, un-slept-in shirt in the morning has been "enough."
But today, Rey pulls out her cosmetics bag. It feels kinda good to make a little bit of effort again.
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Ben puts the contents of his mother's Passover care package to good use.
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It feels like she's been opening her door every half hour for the last 22 hours. Probably because she has been doing that.
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A few days pass before they finally open the door and see the complaint.
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Rey is sure that, as recently as this morning, she had a full vocabulary.
But right now, her brain knows only two words:
"Pleased." "Satisfying."
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Before I was actively involved in SW fandom, I wrote a really long essay trying to sort out my thoughts on The Last Jedi. One of my takeaways was that TLJ is a coming-of-age story. Every main character is on a journey of *self discovery.* No one's taking a ring to Mordor here 🧵
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It's 25 minutes past the hour. Time has never moved quite this slowly for Ben Solo—and it's not because this mandatory webinar features "fun" PowerPoint transitions on each slide.
He lowers the temperature three degrees on his Nest thermostat.
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His cutting board smells like her dish soap. ("Should've included a disinfecting wipe for her," he silently acknowledges.)
But there's a hint of something else—sweet and warm, like orange peel and vanilla bean.
A trace of a living, breathing person lingering on his belongings.
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Two weeks ago, Rey had dumped out a 1-pound bag of Trader Joe's Rainbow's End trail mix and picked out all the generic m&ms.
That's the last time she'd eaten chocolate until today.
And chocolate-coated crackers aren't enough.
(She also finds her stash of cute office supplies!)
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Ben pores over the notes about a dozen times, attempting to parse her meaning. He stops just short of placing them in Ziplock bags, as if he's cataloging evidence on a crime procedural.
"Not fine" is good?
He thinks.
He thinks it's good.
Never hurts to double check, though.
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nope, I will force you to read 1000 words of socialist propaganda BEFORE you read my porn.
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Dessert before dinner is certainly a concept Rey can support. The portion size and presentation, however, are a bit uncharacteristic.
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we should all get the day off work for this international holiday
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just a thread of artworks that vaguely give me reylo vibes?
Richard Bergh, Nordic summer's evening. 1900.
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My whole life, I thought I was a villain fucker...
But I’ve been tricked into being a redeemed good boy fucker?!
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i don’t understand how every streamer and studio isn’t scrambling to develop romcoms right now. they’re cost effective star vehicles.
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𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒇𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 (a tweet fic)
[Rey was (kind of?) moving on with her life and (maybe?) exploring new relationships.
Until Ben Solo's ghost began to appear "randomly" at the most inopportune moments.
He claimed he couldn't control it, but— 🤨]
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I woke up thinking about this shot. TLJ Rey has such amazing internal conflict and growth. 😩😭
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“Knowledge is power,” she says out loud, taking slow, deliberate breaths. “Knowledge is power.”
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book. of. the. MONTH. 😱😱🥹🥹
i've known about this for awhile but i'm somehow still in shock?
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While dinner is in the oven, Rey wipes up the smattering of instant potato flakes from the counter.
She reaches for her phone and—like a responsible citizen—catches up on the news.
It’s good to stay informed.
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It’s not a fic writer’s responsibility to set a “good example” for teens. 🤷♀️
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THESE TWO IDIOTS BACK ON THE USA TODAY BESTSELLER LIST
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Is anyone else’s phone like this? 😂
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