One day at her New York publishing job, Zakiya Dalila Harris spotted another Black girl. In such a world, this kind of sighting was a bit of a phenomenon—or at least, it was enough to completely shift the energy in the room, and enough to spark an idea that held lots of potential.
“I was washing my hands in the bathroom and this other Black woman came out of the stall wearing a work badge. I just knew she wasn’t an author, or another random person in the building,” Harris says, “And I got really excited.”
But nothing happened between the two. They didn’t have “the moment,” as Harris explains, though she’s unsure of what exactly she was expecting. She went back to her desk and considered whether excavating that lingering expectation, the implied connection between two Black women coworkers in a predominantly white industry, made for an interesting premise. Like any keen editorial professional, she knew a good idea when she came upon it and wasted no time. “At that moment, I started writing the book at my desk, it might have even been on my [work] stationery,” Harris says. “I ended up quitting the job a couple of months later.”
That brief encounter launched Harris from her role stewarding books through the pipeline to literary darling du jour with the 2021 release of the sci-fi office thriller The Other Black Girl, secured by Atria books following a 14-way bidding war. Publishers’ enthusiasm in Harris’s concept was shared by the public, as the novel appeared on essentially every single one of the season’s best-of book lists. She knew the experience of being the only other person of color at one’s workplace would be rich territory to explore as well as a topic that many would relate to, but as a fan of The Twilight Zone, The Stepford Wives, and Get Out, weaving an eerie, sci-fi element into the narrative was Harris’s intention from the beginning: “I love all those kinds of stories that feel very grounded in reality but are also very much not.”
Even before it became the talk of book clubs all summer—in fact, before it even hit the shelves—Hulu landed the television rights to the story, which would bring Harris into the writer’s room. As a first timer, she would be guided by the experience of TV vet and fellow executive producer Rashida Jones, who Harris describes as “so down-to-earth and open.” Working with big names in show business has become more a norm for the author now; Real Housewives alumna Garcelle Beauvais has a starring role in the 10-episode series. (A growing Housewives universe fan, Harris describes herself as a Potomac girl, currently making her way through Atlanta.) The show premiered on the streamer last week, and while it succeeds at crafting that same compelling energy Harris achieved on the page, it plays out at a much different pace and delivers a shockingly different ending.
The Other Black Girl was an instant hit. As a debut author, were you expecting that kind of response?
I knew how publishing worked, and I know how hard it is to get to where I’m sitting with you right now. I still don’t believe it. When I was working in publishing, I was also freelancing, ghostwriting, and really desperate to write myself out of living paycheck to paycheck and into a space where I really enjoyed what I was doing. Now after having written this, to have gotten to go back with my agent into Penguin RandomHouse—seeing the people who worked at the desk, people I had seen going in and out at my previous job, but going in as an author myself—was so cool.
The story has been described as The Devil Wears Prada meets Get Out. How do you feel about the notion of the “Jordan Peele-ification” of horror? Is it fair to bring him up every time Black people put out modern horror with any undercurrent of social commentary?
It’s so funny, when I was pitching this to agents, I knew I needed to have comps, like, the “this meets this,” to put into publishing terms what people would know and what success could look like. The thing about publishing is that you want to compare it to buzzy things, so Get Out was what was happening in Black horror. Obviously, there are so many great Black authors in horror—Victor LaValle comes to mind. But in terms of big names, Jordan Peele ended up being the easiest thing everybody knew, not just in publishing. But I don’t think it’s fair anymore. We have seen such a huge renaissance of Black cinema, Black TV and Black horror, just in the time since I wrote this manuscript. I love Jordan Peele, but it’s true. Or at least like, let’s also throw in Octavia Butler.
Hazel (Ashleigh Murray) and Nella (Sinclair Daniel)
Wilford Harwood/Hulu
Was it validating getting to skewer the ridiculousness of corporate space?
It has been so validating. TV just has a bigger reach these days than books do, and maybe that’s not a groundbreaking statement, but I didn’t realize how big of a reach it had when I was in publishing. I’m hearing from so many more people about the show, and it’s been so validating to hear from friends and strangers about that moment when Hazel throws Nella under the bus, or when that coworker says insert-stupid-thing-here. It’s really cool, and frustrating, to be like, “Oh man, you went through this too? I’m so sorry!” But it’s also been cathartic for me, knowing that when I started writing this book, I was a little nervous that Nella would be this out-there character that people would not understand. And a lot of people do question her, and fairly so, but there are also a ton of people who have grown up like her—like me—in very white spaces.
The character Nella isn’t totally a stand-in for you, but she does draw from your experiences. Did it feel a little vulnerable to have her picked apart during scripting?
Definitely. I mean, the writers were wonderful. We had a lot of time to talk about our experiences before we got into the actual writing, about being “the only one” or being the “other” in certain situations. But it was still hard. There were conversations about Nella like, “What’s her deal? What’s her problem? What’s she stuck on?” and her motivations for letting Hazel back in, or letting Hazel get to her. During my Zoom book tour, a lot of people were raising the question of how much I have in common with Nella, and that was a lot of my pitch to the publishers initially, obviously, my personal experiences. But it did get to a point where I said, “All right. I am not Nella, Dad.” He still calls me Nella sometimes! My husband is not [Nella’s partner] Owen. I got to a point where I said to the writer’s room, “First of all, I don’t know if you guys even know that I’m thinking this, but I’m thinking about how much I’ve been compared to Nella, and now I am divorcing myself from her.” After that, I was ready, like: Let’s pick her apart. Let’s go there. I’ve grown in so many ways from being an assistant to now being an executive producer. I have bits of Nella still, I always will, but creatively, it’s time to separate her from me. It’s been therapeutic.
Were there any changes you were looking to make from book to the show?
The first thing that came to mind for me was Owen and [Nella’s best friend] Malaika, and how to really get them more into the story. I can’t tell you how many times people have told me Malaika’s their favorite character. It was fun playing with all the different occupations she could have, the tics she could have. And Brittany [Adebumola] was so great at bringing that character to life. The other thing that first comes to mind is the hair party scene in episode seven. Everyone in the room wanted to include that part and really amp up the creepiness, too.
And then, of course, the ending. I love the ending of the book. I wouldn’t change it even though a lot of people, I think, want me to. But I also love this idea of keeping it open for Nella and a potential season two. She’s gone through all of this and now maybe she gets a chance to make a change. At least we know that she hasn’t given up yet.
It’s a unique experience to get to see your story’s ending play out two ways.
I think a lot of writers have things they want to change about a product that’s been published, but I got to actually make those changes in the show. Like, we’re getting to the mystery a lot sooner and I know a lot of readers felt that it took too long for the scary stuff to happen in the book. It’s not that I’m writing for them. I have my own criticisms. But I think there is so much room, always, for stories to be enhanced, especially when they’re being moved from one medium to another.