I started working on this book in July while living on the third floor of Jane Failing, reading “Wicked” and trying to shape my little snippet about a heroic rebel into something bigger. I currently have over 230 pages, 1.5-spaced, and I’m only turning in about 180 of those. This is the only story I’ve been able to focus on for this long, and I don’t think that’s only because it had a deadline. I’ve really enjoyed writing it, and I’ve enjoyed having people read it and tell me they actually like it and they think it’s good. I’ve created something significant, something that was fun to write and full of opportunity – and tomorrow I have to turn it in. It’s a little silly, I know, but I feel like I’m giving a baby up for adoption or something. Okay, maybe not a baby – maybe the dog I can’t take to my new house because there’s no yard for it. I’ve put hours of work into it, used up hundreds of pieces of paper on it, saved triple backups of it, filled half a Moleskine with notes about it, and tomorrow around three, it’ll be turned in, marking the official end of my career as a Creative Writing student.
I haven’t cried over graduating yet, even those it’s a sad and scary thought to be leaving my friends. I’ve certainly felt like it sometimes. But handing over this big stack of paper will probably be the final straw for me.
Goodbye, thesis. We’ll always have Jane Failing.