We sit in silence for several long minutes, until we both stop shaking. I stand and tug him with me, but with his weight it’s more like me leaning into air until he picks himself up. He hugs me again, softer this time.
He watches me get in my car and head toward home. I wake up to Sully tossing an envelope at my face.
Sunlight streams through my bedroom window. Davy lies on my feet. Sully leaves the door open, letting in the sounds of Mom and Dad and Church moving around downstairs. On the front of the envelope is my address, and a return address that’s just a P.O. Box with no name. The handwriting is flowing script in heavy ink. I pry open the flap and pull out a note written on thick parchment.
I know whose signature will be at the bottom before my eyes ever get there, but it doesn’t make it any less unbelievable.
Dear Eliza,
Thank you so much for your letter. I don’t often write letters, and it has been some time since I’ve corresponded with someone outside a five-mile radius of my home, so excuse me if any of this comes off as strange.
I should start by saying you are not pathetic. I don’t know you, yet I know that by no stretch of the imagination are you pathetic. Most people aren’t, and only think they are. Knocking yourself out on a cafeteria table does not make you pathetic. (Though I’m certain it couldn’t have made you feel very well.)
Being exposed to the public is certainly difficult enough without also being in high school. And being a teen girl, no less. I was a teen girl in high school once, and I do not remember it fondly. My sister loved high school. I didn’t have her knack for navigating schoolwork, extracurriculars, and social circles, often all at once. I never begrudged her this, though, because I was able to escape into my writing.
I feel this may not have been the case for you. My popularity didn’t come until later in life, when I was well settled and hadn’t thought about school for many years. Yours has been with you all this time; from what I’ve gathered in the few news articles I’ve had relayed to me, you’ve been working on this story for most of your time in high school. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to keep that secret while sharing this part of your heart with so many people.
Creating art is a lonely task, which is why we introverts revel in it, but when we have fans looming over us, it becomes loneliness of a different sort. We become caged animals watched by zoo-goers, expected to perform lest the crowd grow bored or angry. It’s not always bad. Sometimes we do well, and the cage feels more like a pedestal.
I hope I haven’t scared you off with this zoo metaphor. I didn’t expect it to turn as sour as it did. This is part of the reason I never finished Children of Hypnos—at the time I felt as if my writing was going through a shift, and I feared the fifth and final book wouldn’t sound like the others. I was afraid my fans would notice and hate it. I was afraid they would never buy another one of my books. That was ultimately what stopped me from continuing: fear. Fear drove away my motivation and love for the story.
I believe what you have to ask yourself, if you truly want to finish what you started, is why did you stop? Was it fear? Pure apathy? Or something else? I’m afraid I can’t answer this question for you, but I can tell you that if it’s because of something inside you, if there isn’t someone in the physical world holding a knife to your throat and threatening your death if you continue to write, then you can work through it. Whatever this is, it will pass. My fear of the reaction to the fifth Children of Hypnos book has been gone for several years now, and every few weeks my interest in it rekindles. The small flame in my chest flickers for a few hours, waiting for more firewood. If I feed it, the interest continues. If I starve it, the interest wanes.
If you want the motivation back, you must feed it. Feed it everything. Books, television, movies, paintings, stage plays, real-life experience. Sometimes feeding simply means working, working through nonmotivation, working even when you hate it.
We create art for many reasons—wealth, fame, love, admiration—but I find the one thing that produces the best results is desire. When you want the thing you’re creating, the beauty of it will shine through, even if the details aren’t all in order. Desire is the fuel of creators, and when we have that, motivation will come in its wake.
I lost the desire to create Children of Hypnos. I could do it still; I could write the final book. But it wouldn’t be as good as it once was, my fans wouldn’t be happy with it, and I would truly feel that I had let them and myself down. I would rather they speculate ceaselessly on the end than have a poor ending they didn’t deserve. More importantly, a poor ending I didn’t deserve—the younger me who created this story originally, who had a love for it I’m only starting to recover.
I hope you don’t lose your desire to create Monstrous Sea. It sounds like a wonderful story.
Much hope,
Olivia Kane
P.S. Truth be told, I don’t mind answering this question. Children of Hypnos may not have an ending that its fans can read, but I did have one in mind while writing it. I think we always do, somewhere in our heads, even if we don’t seriously consider them. Like life, what gives a story its meaning is the fact that it ends. Our stories have lives of their own—and it’s up to us to make them mean something.
Monstrous Sea Private Message
10:58 a.m. (MurkerLurker has joined the message) MirkerLurker: So…
MirkerLurker: Anyone home?
10:51 a.m. (Apocalypse_Cow has joined the message) Apocalypse_Cow: the prodigal daughter returns. sorry we weren’t around yesterday—was everything okay? we started to get worried.
Apocalypse_Cow: I mean, who was emmy going to watch Dog Days with?
MirkerLurker: Ha
MirkerLurker: No, I’m okay. I was trying to stay away from the internet.
MirkerLurker: And I wanted to say sorry for disappearing for so long.
MirkerLurker: And also thank you for everything you guys did for me when the news broke.
Apocalypse_Cow: no need to apologize. i would’ve done the same thing. no one needs that much attention on themselves, especially if they’ve been anonymous for so long.
Apocalypse_Cow: and you’re welcome—i do deserve much praise for my honorable actions in the eliza mirk scandal operation. perhaps a promotion to god overlord of the forums, and a statue of myself made of solid gold.
10:58 a.m. (emmersmacks has joined the message) emmersmacks: E!!!!!
emmersmacks: YOURE BACK!!!!!!!
MirkerLurker: Hey, Em.
emmersmacks: HOW HAVE YOU BEEN???
emmersmacks: ARE YOU OKAY???
MirkerLurker: Yeah, not bad. Mostly staying away from the internet.
emmersmacks: People have been loving the Monstrous Sea pages emmersmacks: They say youre not coming back to finish them Apocalypse_Cow: seriously though, em. keep your mouth shut.