Scaachi Koul didn’t set out to write One Day We’ll All Be Dead and None of This Will Matter.
She began working on her personal essay collection two years ago, at age 24, intending the book — which she refers to as “a catalog of misery” — to be a much lighter read. But when Koul’s editors at Doubleday Canada pushed her to dig deeper into her “garbage soul,” the underlying tenor of the book shifted.
“It’s a lot about loneliness and trying to make a connection, and it’s a lot about how your history informs where you’re going,” Koul says. “I’m happy where it went, but sometimes you do need an editor to tell you that you don’t have to be glib all the time. That was a hard lesson for me.”
Those who follow Koul’s work as an editor on BuzzFeed or on Twitter know that she’s an all-caps force who doesn’t suffer fools or anonymous online trolls gladly. The sly, cutting sarcasm — and the misery — still reverberate through One Day We’ll All Be Dead, but they’ve been tempered, leaving breathing room for Koul to share more vulnerable observations of her life and her roles as a young woman, a girlfriend, a best pal and a daughter of Indian immigrants.