These Monks

“Read the page, it’s cold and dead, and take me home.”

Alice In Chains

For the last five years, we’ve poured ourselves into writing our debut novel.

Easily the hardest thing we’ve ever done. Easily some of the most fun we’ve ever had.

Each time weve reached a seminal “stopping point,” a point in the alternately arduous, uplifting, despondent and thrilling process which could be called a finish – it’s never felt like elation. It’s never felt like relief. It’s never been particularly satisfying.

Not in August 2006, when the first 400-something-page draft was finally complete. Not in December 2006, when we removed passive voice and finalized characters. Not in June 2007, when we eliminated two major characters, nor in September 2007, when we resolved to cut nearly 100 pages. And we got there. In January 2008, we finally let some trusted advisers read it, and now, in April 2008, we’ve finally added and subtracted our final few pieces. Right now, the thing is done. Here we are – with a tale of three friends, kicking and screaming and resisting adulthood, as their lives separate for the last time.

That’s it. Simple, really. It’s done. Maybe we don’t allow elation simply because at each stopping point – there’s been much more, to do. This time’s different. We think it’s complete. Quite predictably, we think it’s rather good.

We still read through it, poring over passages, thinking “I fucking wrote that? Good god, that’s contrived.” Conversely, our greatest sense of accomplishment arrives when we re-read a passage, and really think it’s good (“Wow, I wrote that? That’s fucking fantastic.”). Or when a friend admires or enjoyed a certain portion – maybe even with a result unintended by us. Or when we step back, and realize that maybe we’ve put something together that’s fairly cool, fairly worthwhile, and maybe even a little intelligent. (Like Reinhold Weege after creating Night Court, we suspect.)

But it’s not relief, nor happiness, nor fulfillment. It is, however, done, and the next chapter (cough, predictable metaphor, cough) awaits.

More updates soon.

JJH

About JJH

John Hanley is a writer and product manager in Kansas City, a former journalist, and law school dropout. His first novel drops in 2012. He is not cool enough to say "drops."
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One Response to These Monks

  1. A-Rog says:

    Congrats!

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