December Newsletter
Illness, Boston pride, and smearing my friend with turmeric
On a Thursday in early December, I charged down Newbury Street, through the crowds of tourists and college students and Christmas shoppers, only one goal in my mind: a hot bowl of ramen.
I was playing tour guide for Joan (one of my college friends) and her partner, who were visiting from New York.
We escaped the frigid wind and bundled into a tiny garden-level ramen shop. I ordered my favorite truffle salt ramen and Joan ordered the yuzu sesame ramen, then we sat down and began defrosting.
I worried the noodles wouldn’t thoroughly impress Joan, who is known for her excellent taste in restaurants. I have the palate of a child and am easily impressed by artificial cheese, so “good” food by Kylie standards isn’t always objectively impressive.
But it was extremely important that I impressed Joan today.
You see, I have a not-so-secret agenda: to convince all of my friends to move to Boston.
I’m a born-and-raised Boston girl, and I’m going to remain here for the foreseeable future for several reasons:
My parents live here. I’m an only child, so caring for them as they get older is going to be my responsibility. Therefore, I will move here eventually one way or another.
I’m introverted and not great at building a new social network from scratch. So, knowing that I’ll return to Boston eventually, I’d rather just build up my social network here, where I already have childhood friends.
I love the cold, and also how liberal MA is, and most importantly, how many Dunkins there are.
But I’ve lived all over the world, so I have many long-distance friends who I unfortunately don’t get to see that often.
Like Joan, for instance. I met Joan in college in Atlanta, and she since moved to NYC. As many of you know, I visit NYC all the time, and many of those visits involve Joan taking me to her favorite restaurants. I’ve never had a bad meal under her guidance.
But now, since Joan was considering a move to Boston, I made a plan of attack.
I showed up that morning with a full walking tour itinerary. I’d already grilled Joan on what she wanted to see in the city, so we were exploring the neighborhoods she might end up living. She didn’t want to get a car, so I’d flagged apartments with less than 10-minute walks to a train station. For another friend, I’d actually made a PowerPoint presentation about all the pros of living in Boston.
It’s almost funny how I’ve become Boston’s #1 spokesperson, because when I was a kid, I never thought I’d stay here.
I imagined that I’d live in a New York City high rise like Joan, or that I’d start a new life in Japan, or maybe become a screenwriter in LA. The thought of staying so close to home felt like a massive failure. Not because there’s anything particularly wrong with Boston—it’s an objectively great city. I just had this idea of myself as an intrepid explorer, destined for a glamorous and exotic lifestyle.
But, after doing quite a lot of traveling in my 20s—even living in Korea for several years—I’ve realized that what matters most to me definitely isn’t the glamor, or how “cool” my life looks to other people.
What matters to me are the small, objectively mundane moments that make up most of my life.
Like going out to dinner on my mom’s birthday and sharing a cheese plate with her, then ordering more cheese within five minutes.
And going for a run alongside a river on a winter morning, when it’s sunny but there’s enough clean snow on the ground that the world is white. There aren’t many people outside, so I can be at peace with my thoughts.
And singing BTS songs in my car while I drive to the next city over for a group strength class, where a fluffy dog greets me at the door.
And walking through Harvard Yard in the snow around Christmas, an iced coffee in my frozen hand.
And watching my high school friends wave goodbye to me from their second-floor window as I get in my car after we spent the afternoon baking in their apartment.
And, in the beginning of December, defrosting my hands on the steam wafting off my bowl of truffle salt ramen.
“Do you like it?” I asked Joan.
“I do!” she said. Though I wouldn’t put it past her to say that just to be kind after I’d already warned her not to have high expectations for my restaurant recommendations.
Still, she finished the bowl.
I got to visit another college friend this month, but this time, quite far from home.
My friend Lina (who I lovingly call “Sushi”) got married, and I was lucky enough to be a bridesmaid in her wedding. The ceremony involved a lot of Indian traditions that I’d never before experienced but had an absolute blast with.
We smeared turmeric on the couple for luck, had gorgeous henna painted on our hands which we heated over a fire, and played tug-o-war with the groom’s side of the family.
This is my second wedding (and second time being a bridesmaid!) this year. I won’t go on for too long about this, since I ranted a lot in my last newsletter, but I just want to reiterate how lucky I feel to have such good friends, and how happy it makes me to see them happy. I teared up a bit at both weddings when I thought about our younger selves when we first met, and how I wish those poor stressed out girls could have seen this beautiful moment and known that everything would turn out just fine.
I turned in a project to my editor right before Lina’s wedding, so when I returned home, I was left to catch up on all the emails I’d been ignoring during all the deadline and wedding chaos. I feel like I spent days replying to emails just saying “I’m so sorry I took this long to get back to you—I was at an elaborate Indian wedding with a horse” before I finally managed to break the surface.
Then there were two lovely book events for me to attend in an author capacity—a book club at Side Quest Books and a spooky reading at Brookline Booksmith—followed by my best friend’s birthday party, a family Christmas party, and a boatload of errands like getting my state inspection sticker on Stitch (my car who is officially 1 year old!!). I caught up with old friends over udon and coffee and amazing hot chocolate. I finally got my Christmas tree.
I started my half marathon training in earnest and was having a great time running on such sunny winter days. The whole world glows from the snow on the ground this time of year. I was starting to feel like the runs were getting easier, probably because I’m a snowman and am thriving in my element.
Then I woke up with a sore throat.
The sore throat turned into a stuffy nose, and then a fever, and then suddenly I was sick on Christmas Eve.
There went my plans to visit my family over the holidays, or kick my half marathon training up a notch this week to take advantage of the good weather, or even to unapologetically devour all my Christmas chocolates.
For days, all I did was hydrate and lie in bed playing Baldur’s Gate 3. But despite how bad I felt, and how frustrated I was at being forced to put my goals aside, there was a strange sort of peacefulness to suddenly having nothing on my plate whatsoever, no expectation that I achieve anything at all other than rest.
My mind usually feels like 1000 Chrome tabs open at once. I rarely get such a complete break from the spinning gears of my own brain. I realized, too late, that I probably needed this break very badly.
My lungs are clearing out and I’m finally ready to get back into the swing of things. Specifically, my half marathon training. I have big goals this year and the sticker charts to make them possible. I can breathe through my nose again. I’m ready.
This was a month of answering emails and doing research.
I’ve got a stack of (overdue, at this point) library books calling my name, which I carefully selected for my next project. This book (which I’m calling Project Jennie) is very different from anything I’ve written before. It’s not quite a fantasy or a horror and is only a touch speculative. Because it’s unfamiliar territory, I’m doing a lot of research. I don’t want to get too specific now, as I like to keep my books very close to the heart until they’re a bit more solidified.
But, as a result, I have little to report on the work front this month.
Bat Eater and Other Names for Cora Zeng is #10 on USA Today’s list of Best Books of 2025
The Bat Eater UK paperback is coming out January 8th!
Check out the Sunday Times Bestseller banner! The first chapter of Japanese Gothic is at the very end. You can preorder it here!
Preorder Links:
Bat Eater (paperback, UK) (08/01/2026)
Japanese Gothic (US) (4/21/26)
Japanese Gothic (UK) (30/04/2026)
Signed copies of all my books (request signature in order comments; US only): Porter Square Books
What I’m Reading:
My favorite book this month was We Love You, Bunny by Mona Awad. This is a prequel/sequel (I know that’s a confusing sentence, but it’s good, trust me) to Bunny. Basically, rich MFA girls turn bunnies into boys. It’s such a bananas concept but I absolutely loved it. Mona Awad is a master of satire.
What I’m Watching:
I just finished It: Welcome to Derry and enjoyed it! The gore is pretty creative (you’ve got babies on umbilical cords flying around) and the historical setting is immersive.
There’s a subplot involving a Native American tribe, which—to my understanding—was planned while working closely with the Wabanaki Nation. On one hand, I’m glad there’s more diversity in horror and that the creative team behind the show is attempting to be thoughtful about it. I’m not Native American so I obviously can’t speak to how successful they were.
On the other hand, I would love to see film adaptations of books written by Native American authors like Stephen Graham Jones. My Heart is a Chainsaw would be a fantastic series!
That’s all from me this month! I’m going to talk more about 2026 goals in January, once I can get a bit more organized. I hope you all have a happy and safe new year!
All my best,
Kylie