I have a habit of writing stories inspired by trips that I’ve enjoyed. This one, I started writing after the first time I attended CLAW, a BDSM and kink convention in Cleveland. I distinctly remember thinking—on the way back—that some of the activities I got up to would be considered “niche” or “extreme” by a large percentage of the population. I wanted to speak to that through speculative fiction.

Believe it or not, it all started as a pun. I read a description somewhere of a bird species being “cavity nesters,” and my brain immediately went “you mean like thoracic cavity?” That then gave rise to the line “they nest in hollows—do you feel hollow?” and the double meaning felt interesting enough that I wrote it down. But then it sat there. For years. Because I didn’t have a story—I had a bit of wordplay.

We know that these feelings are unreasonable. We ideally know that comparison is the thief of joy. But it also doesn’t change the fact that people feel these things. I think that’s why I feel some comfort in having this story out there, because it’s necessary to discuss these themes.

In an interview, the iconic drag queen Sasha Colby said something like—drag for her was a tool to empower people who had been disempowered. And that sparked the essence of Courtney’s character and her journey.

Inherent in saving face, there’s a backdrop of protectionism. A fear of losing your community, in losing everything. There’s pressure to be fastidious and appear too powerful to mess with. Many families, mine included, have a history of keeping their heads on a swivel to survive war.

The thing that got me excited to write this story is the jaded and familiar voice of Bangkok taxi drivers. They’re my biggest driver, literally. Taxis decorated for spiritual protection aren’t such an uncommon sight either. This voice became irresistible when I was playing Cyberpunk 2077.

People really don’t like confronting the unknown and they really don’t like conflict. So much of this brief window into this couple’s relationship is about avoidance, distance, observation from far away but with no real knowledge gained. And they both know it’s wrong; the Magic 8 Ball didn’t appear for no reason.

What strikes me about Hannah is she’s not afraid of the bunny-ear kids, by all appearances the most fearsome thing at Colden Hills Music Camp. Instead, her anxieties are laser-focused on walking around in her swimsuit, and having to be social at the ice cream social, and not getting picked up at week’s end.

The title came to me first, and I built the story around that concept of asking for it. How I might subvert it. Because that phrase, to me, has always been how someone’s wants are placed on another person. The justification they hunt for to allay any guilt or anxiety or sense of culpability.