Emily J. Smith: On Crafting a Literary Thriller, Obsession as a Narrative Engine, Modern Dating, and Her Debut Novel ‘Nothing Serious’

An advanced copy of Emily J. Smith’s debut novel, Nothing Serious (William Morrow, 2025), landed in my hands at the perfect time. I had just been dumped by someone I was dating for the previous five months—because he didn’t want “anything serious.” A page-turner about a mysterious death was just the escape I needed from such a humiliation. But inside of this book, I also found a slyly funny commentary on modern dating and, as often happens with great novels, a window into myself. 

When Edie, a single thirty-something tech executive, meets the feminist writer and professor dating her best friend Peter, her jealousy morphs into admiration. After Anaya turns up dead and Peter is implicated, Edie obsessively looks for clues in the woman’s writing, but instead finds answers about her own life.

From any other author, I would have been surprised to discover revelations about the perils of heteronormativity hidden within a deftly plotted literary thriller. But when I met Emily at a creative nonfiction workshop in 2014, she was writing essays that eschewed traditional life goals—relationships, career, basically anything you’d see listed in the verticals of an online women’s magazine—in favor of art-making and self-discovery. In Nothing Serious, I recognized Emily’s essayistic precision, illuminating how it feels to finally embrace the messy person in the mirror, after years of flattening oneself to serve a man-made algorithm.

As a writer myself, I had questions—mainly about how she crafted this compulsively readable, deeply relatable, and insanely smart debut novel. I chatted with Emily via an email thread and a Google Doc about why she wrote a literary thriller, obsession as a narrative engine, “writer crushes,” balancing making money with making art, and her path to publication. 

Sarah Kasbeer: Although Edie is in love with her best friend Peter, she’s also very attracted to the writer he’s dating. She devours this woman’s work in a way that felt familiar to me: a deep admiration that takes on the tenor of a romantic obsession. How did the “writer crush” become a narrative engine in your debut novel? 

Emily J. Smith: I love this question. The notion of a “writer crush” is foundational to my writing life (and my entire personality), so I knew the heart of the book would be the protagonist’s admiration for a woman writer. I’ve always had obsessive tendencies, but historically my obsessions were directed at men, and specifically chasing the approval and men who were uninterested in me. When I started writing in my thirties, I discovered women artists whose work left me feeling as if, in discovering them, I was discovering myself.

I studied computer engineering and was not at all versed in literature, so reading these women at that time changed my life. It was a very pointed shift from obsessing over men romantically, which left me feeling hollow and insecure, to obsessing over women intellectually, devouring their work and attempting, however feebly, to emulate their style. This is essentially the shift that Edie goes through in the book. As her admiration for this woman, Anaya, develops, her obsession with Peter begins to dissolve, and that transformation facilitates her own self-discovery.

SK: Have you ever had a writer crush? How did it compare to Edie’s?

EJS: I’m laughing because we both know that I have never not had a writer crush. It sustains me! I’m happy to make clear that I am not as psychotic as Edie, although, if one of my writer crushes were to turn up mysteriously dead…who knows! 

Similar to Edie, though, when I find someone I connect with, I’m a completist. I read all their work and often reread it. The way she wants to inhabit Anaya’s mind is very personal to me. I’m not saying it’s healthy, but if I really admire a writer, I love trying to understand how their brain works. While I’ll cop to googling basic facts about my “crushes,” I try to keep my focus on their work. This is different from Edie, who takes her obsession to a very personal place. Of course I fantasize about wanting to be best friends with my crushes. I’m equal parts proud and ashamed to report that I’ve actually pulled this off in a few cases! But for the most part, it’s about connecting to their writing and pulling inspiration from that for my own work. 

SK: What do you think this type of obsession touches in writers that we don’t get elsewhere in our lives, like romantic relationships or friendships? 

EJS: I think the whole pursuit of fandom is hugely underrated. We’re encouraged to grow out of it, but it’s such an exciting feeling, to let yourself admire a person so fully it becomes disarming, and inspires you to want to be better. With writers it can be especially compelling because you’re presented with this very personal and highly worked artifact. A book is in many ways the best version of a writer, something they’ve likely worked over for years. And so it’s easy, if this very personal and perfected presentation is all we know of them, to develop a parasocial bond and put them on a pedestal. 

It’s harder to have this with the people we’re close to because we know too much. We see our loved ones as flawed, which fosters a more intimate kind of love and comfort. As long as we can remember that what we see in a piece of writing is only a curated fraction of the author, and don’t get carried away with comparisons, this child-like adoration can be incredibly powerful.

SK: Speaking of, I deeply admired the way you managed to pen a commentary on modern dating within a page-turner about a woman’s death (the irony!). How did those two ideas find each other?

EJS: That’s so funny, that connection was not intentional but it was also maybe inevitable? I wrote the novel when I was in the throes of online dating for nearly a decade and any attempt at finding something “serious” felt completely futile. Being on the apps, and heterosexual dating in general, felt like self-destruction. 

The book is actually set post-Trump but pre-#MeToo, which was a very short and dark period of time. I think online dating, especially for heterosexual women thirty-five and older, can feel like a kind of purgatory or death. There is almost no winning, no matter how hard you try, the circumstances feel out of your control. 

SK: Did you conceive of this book as a literary thriller? Did you feel pressure to focus on plot when you were writing? 

EJS: The first novel I wrote was very similar, but without a murder. It centered on a woman in tech coming into her own after meeting an older woman writer. I poured my heart and soul into that book, but agents rejected it on the grounds of “not enough plot.” So I knew the next book had to be juicy. In that sense, yes, I knew this book was always going to be a thriller. 

Like the main character, I studied computer engineering, went to business school, then worked in tech. I wrote this book chronologically from start to end during a three-month career break. Only after I finished the full draft—seeing the overall structure in place, getting that initial momentum on the page, and knowing that it could all work together—did I then get very detailed about the plot, mapping out what should happen and when, adding clues, and filling in gaps.

SK: I love that you studied engineering—how do you think that informs, consciously or unconsciously, your process as a writer?

EJS: Weirdly, I think engineering and writing can be very related. I remember when I first started writing essays, the feeling of “cracking” an essay, tying multiple threads together and figuring out what the piece is really all about, felt very much like math and coding to me. Inherently, it’s a kind of logic-based problem solving where you’re breaking down pieces and putting them together like a puzzle. 

Unfortunately, my college experience was all problem sets and algorithms so I was completely oblivious of all things literary, and didn’t read much at all until I was around thirty. I blame this for dismal vocabulary and the fact that it takes me an absurdly long time to write anything I’m comfortable sharing. I’ve had a lot of catching up to do.  

SK: How do you make room for making art? And balance that with making money?  

EJS: I love talking about this because it is so hard to write a novel with a full-time job, but most people have no other option. I wrote my first novel while working full-time in tech. I had actually left tech to work in nonprofits for many years. But, unfortunately, nonprofits pay very little and often have excruciating hours, so when I realized I wanted to pursue writing, I went back into tech so that I’d have income for workshops and retreats and more time to spend on writing.

Eventually, I hopped off the ladder I was climbing in tech and started doing more part-time consulting work—prioritizing my writing instead of my tech career. This felt incredibly risky at the time, but I’m so grateful I left the corporate “track.” I’d work for a bit, save money aggressively, then take long chunks of time (three to six months) between jobs to work on my writing.

By the time I got an agent and an editor for this project, I was working full-time again. But it is much easier to carve out time for edits when you know a project has a chance. I’d stay up all night and block weekends to work on edits because by that point it felt like I had a real shot at publishing—there were finally people on my side. 

SK: I once heard Karen Russell talk about how being a novelist is unlike any other profession. She said (and I’m paraphrasing) that if you were building a house, you wouldn’t have to spend years wondering if it was actually a house. In that sense, working on a book can be unnerving. How did you stay motivated? 

EJS: Writing an entire manuscript on spec and knowing there’s no guarantee it will get published takes a profound amount of self-motivation. I can’t emphasize enough how challenging that is. In order to keep going, you have to live in an alternative reality of your own making, one in which it’s totally normal to spend all your free time on a make-believe story that it’s possible no one will get to read. The truth is that it’s extremely hard to create and inhabit that reality when you’re immersed in the day-to-day culture of capitalism.

The best thing I did for my writing career was to save as much money as possible while I was working, then take large chunks of time off as frequently as possible to go deep into my writing. I’ve kept my living expenses low and chose not to have kids in order to keep taking these breaks. Still, I’m incredibly lucky to have this option, I know it’s not a possibility for many.

SK: I noticed that a major theme of this book, and in many of your essays, is the power of resisting heteronormativity, vis-a-vis relationships, parenthood, capitalism and art. What draws you to these topics as a writer?

EJS: I think that I’m drawn to resisting it now because I was once very much compelled by it. I grew up with the belief that a husband, kids, and a high-paying job were the markers of a successful adulthood, which my divorced, financially struggling parents hadn’t accessed. I was an ambitious, competitive kid and I chased that vision of success aggressively, only to find myself deeply unhappy and bored whenever I got close to it. It took me a long time to define success on my own terms and let go of the need to prove myself to others via these traditional markers and milestones. Kids are much more aware these days, but I think it’s important to showcase alternative versions of adulthood—especially for women.

SK: You started a dating app called Chorus in 2019. What did this teach you about the state of dating—and the effects of technology on our intimate relationships? To quote a question posed by a recent viral article from The Cut, “Is dating a total nightmare right now?”

EJS: Dating apps are a horror show. They’re miserable, and even more so now than when I started my app, which I created because they were all so bad. A lasting connection requires the impression of scarcity, that the person you’re with is a rare find, something special. Dating apps can dull if not remove that impression entirely. When we used to meet in person, there was this sense of serendipity and chance; it was thrilling to encounter someone you connected with at a bar or a party. Now, everyone just ‘unmatches’ at the first sign of a flaw and keeps on swiping.

All that said, the apps are kind of all we have right now and they can work—sometimes. I met my boyfriend on Tinder in November 2020. By that point in my life I was so ready to try something serious. In general, I think they’re still helpful if you put the work in. But at this point I think it’s completely valid to say that the benefits of partnership, for hetero women especially, are not necessarily worth how exhausting the process of dating has become. 

SK: Nothing Serious is a brilliant title. How did you come up with it? What would your advice be to other debut authors about titling their novels?

First, thank you! Titles are so hard, and this was not the title I started with. When I wrote the first draft, in 2019, I had been single for about eight years and was generally bitter and angry and the title at that time was “Crazy Single,” because that’s how I felt.

I wrote that first draft in a three-month fever dream, then I got money for my dating app (Chorus) and put it in a proverbial drawer, embarrassed that I’d written such a zany, psychotic book with a death at the center. I didn’t look at the manuscript for three years! Then, in 2022, after I shut down my dating app, I went back and read the draft and was surprised how fun it felt. The flaws felt clear to me and easy to address; it was during that editing process that the new title emerged.

There’s something about a title that really holds a project together. I’ve found that if a title comes easily and it’s super clear that it fits, it’s a good sign. My advice is to just keep writing and when the story starts to really come together the title will probably reveal itself. Nothing Serious has more of a tongue-in-cheek wink, a slight remove from the chaotic and embittered energy of the first draft, and the revisions reflected that shift as well. 

Also, if you’re really stuck, don’t worry about it at all; I’ve heard most of the time the publisher changes it anyway!

SK: What has been the most helpful resource for you as a writer? Or most instrumental to your success? 

EJS: Making “writer friends” was life changing. I felt so insane and alone when I started writing. When a friend or coworker asked what I did over the weekend, I’d lie and say something seemingly acceptable like yoga class or brunch. Connecting with other writers helped me believe it was totally reasonable to keep going—banging our heads against the same wall, in all its absurdities, together—which is the single most important part of writing, having the resolve and patience to keep at it.

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Emily J. Smith is a writer based in Brooklyn. Her debut novel, NOTHING SERIOUS, is out Feb 18 from William Morrow (HarperCollins). She has a BS in Electrical and Computer Engineering from Cornell, and an MBA from UC Berkeley. Her writing has appeared in The Rumpus, Catapult, Slate, Hobart, The Washington Post, Vice, and other publications. You can find more on her website and socials @emjsmith.