And with those words, those damnable words, it was over. Two
words that ended my sneaking into the night, hiding from my family, seeking my lover’s
embrace. A lover that made me smile and got my heart pounding and my blood
sizzling through my veins. Two words and the entire affair was over.
Two words—The End.
I’m talking about writing my latest novel, of course. What
the hell did you think I was talking about?
I won’t speak for other authors, but I think many of us
suffer from this affliction—the pain and sorrow of ending a novel we’ve loved and
toiled over that we gave our soul to for months. The affair starts with an idea.
Perhaps our imagination wanders after a beautiful woman smiles or sends a
heart-stopping text or funny cartoon. Could it be possible? Could she be the
one? Can I kill her in the first chapter and make my readers feel my pain and loss
for 400 pages? What if she were not a tantalizing vixen but a spy or master
terrorist stalking me before ending the world in a vile, evil plan? Could it
be? Do I have another novel here?
Ohhhhhh, I get
warm and fuzzy all over just thinking about how these liaisons begin.
And so it begins—the first few flirts and stolen kisses. A
page here, a chapter there. And before anyone knows it—not my kids or dogs for
sure—it’s a raging torrent of keyboard and screen, characters and plots, guys
and dames … all heading toward the inevitable, painful, ending—The End. We
start it all so innocently. No expectations. No promises. But before we’ve
reached page 50, it’s late nights and cold showers—stolen glances at the
screen, whispers in the night and secret liaisons whenever we can steal away
and be alone. We crave her attention. We need her connection. It’s all about
her—the story—and until we reach the climax at the end, we cannot stop
ourselves. It’s a drive. A journey. A destination.
And then, it ends. Nothing left but a good cry and memories.
Oh, and edits. Hell yes, edits and edits and edits.
For me, every book has been my passion. Sometimes, I stray
during the affair and begin to dabble with another—yes, it’s true. I two-story
now and then. It’s an affliction. Yet, when I’m being honest with myself, I
know it won’t ever work. I have to finish one before I can even get serious
with another. I’m getting old, after all. It’s just how things are.
And therein lies the problem—finishing a book that has been
a lover for months, perhaps even years of notes and daydreams and ideas. That
makes it all the harder to let go. To end it. To say, “The End.”
This past summer, I ended my latest liaison with Double Effect—my first thriller I’ve
finished in nearly six years after writing five mysteries. It was a bittersweet
story that touched home in so many ways that I even blogged about it in June at
http://tjoconnorbooks.blogspot.com/2016/06/dying-for-thrill.html.
Little did I know then that ending this long-running love would bring on a new
emotion—despair.
A warning to all wannabe authors like me—good enough is never good enough. Just when you end it
all, kiss her goodbye, and hit “send,” the emptiness and despair can often grab
you like a lover clinging to a second chance. It’s terrifying.
As I discussed in my June blog, Double Effect is the story of Jonathan Hunter, a swashbuckling
security consultant summoned home after decades overseas by his estranged
brother. On his arrival, he witnesses his brother’s murder. That killing
unleashes a series of events from small town prejudice to Hunter’s personal
demons haunting him as he chases a killer and finds a terrorist plot to
devastate an American city. It combines a murder mystery, a rogue Latino street
gang, a Middle Eastern terror cell, and current-event international dangers all
coming to roost in small town Winchester, Virginia.
Emotions and life experiences are powerful tools of a
writer.
I’d written draft one of Double
Effect several years ago, but, because I received a contract for Dying to Know, Dying for the Past, and Dying to Tell, I had to shelve it until
there was time to reacquaint myself with the love of my life. And let me tell
you, that rendezvous was everything I’d hoped. But then, as my passion for Double Effect was rekindled, I was
befallen by my worst affliction—self-doubt. Was
it good enough?
For months, I’d toiled lovingly over new plot twists,
subplots, and character changes. Yet each time I finished a draft, my heart
ached and my mind wandered for one last tryst—another edit, more changes, new
characters. I was obsessed. You see, my problem was not the story. It wasn’t
the characters, either. It was me. I was stuck in it-will-never-be-good-enough
mode. Each time I thought I was done, I’d read it and say, “Wait, I can make
this better. I can do this and that. I can …” Delay. More rewrites. I lay awake nights replotting and
second-guessing myself into oblivion. My demand for “one more change” all but
guaranteed I’d never truly finish the book.
But, like ice cream sundaes and passion, it all came to an
end in early July. I forced myself to finish one final edit, typed “The End,”
and sent Double Effect to my
agent—the amazing and lovely Kimberley Cameron.
It was one day before the loss hit me. Before the angst and
torment began. She was gone. She’d left me. Double
Effect was away and it would be too long before I was able to have her
again. Had I been good to her? Had I taken the time and given her my best? Was
she satisfied? Should I have spent just a little more time? Was I … Good
enough?
Doubt. Second guessing … regret.
Now I wait each night by my computer—alone and hopeful that
any day I’ll hear the ding of my email and she would return for more of me.
Kimberley’s round of edits and redrafting—her own thoughts and suggestions to
make this affair one to remember. And she—Double
Effect—would be in my embrace once again. I would go to work caressing her
plots and stroking her characters until, when the time was right, we would
reach the end together—my novel and me. Just the two of us. Well, at least
until I was ready to share her with all of you.
After all, this love of mine—this affair that steals me and
controls my every waking hour—is but just another notch on my bookshelf. And
sadly it is true, in time, Double Effect
will be a past fling—a summer thing—and I’ll move on to yet another.
We’ll talk again next month.
Tj O’CONNOR IS THE
GOLD MEDAL WINNER OF THE 2015 INDEPENDENT PUBLISHERS BOOK AWARDS (IPPY) FOR
MYSTERIES. He is the author of Dying to
Know, Dying for the Past, and Dying
to Tell—and New Sins for Old Scores,
a new paranormal mystery coming in 2017! He recently finished his new thriller
and is beginning three sequels to previous series. Tj is an international
security consultant specializing in anti-terrorism, investigations, and threat
analysis—life experiences that drive his novels. With his former life as a
government agent and years as a consultant, he has lived and worked around the
world in places like Greece, Turkey, Italy, Germany, the United Kingdom, and
throughout the Americas—among others. He was raised in New York's Hudson Valley
and lives with his wife and Lab companions in Virginia where they raised five
children. Dying to Know is also the 2015 Bronze Medal winner of the Reader’s Favorite Book Review Awards, a
finalist for the Silver Falchion Best
Books of 2014, and a finalist for the Foreword
Review’s 2014 INDIEFAB Book of the Year Award.
Learn about Tj’s world at:
Facebook: www.facebook.com/tjoconnor.author
Blog: http://tjoconnorbooks.blogspot.com/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7148441.T_J_O_Connor
