Flesh Trap: The End

I once wrote a novel and called it Flesh Trap.

It’s a story about a tiny house that time forgot, where the devil lived and Casey Way died and the boy-king came back from the grave to play. Now the story is almost over. I think I’d like to talk about that. The serialized edition of the novel concludes on May 17th, when I publish the epilogue chapter on FleshTrap.net. (The day before my 26th birthday, as it turns out.) All sixty-three chapters will be available to the public to read. I still don’t know how I feel about that just yet. On one hand, I should probably feel proud that the story I spent just about two full years on is now officially, and finally, over. On the other, it’s still a little surreal. I fear I’m suffering from a strange case of separation anxiety, knowing that the book is out of my head and hands, and out in the world on its own. I haven’t quite figured out how I feel about it yet.  Oh, well.

This is the first novel I’ve ever finished, after a dozen or so false-starts and stumbling blocks and bad ideas. It’s the culmination of sleepless nights and stomach aches and ink smears, and too many hours spent staring at the seven notebooks it took to write the rough draft trying to make every word fit just right. It hurt write, as a good story ought to, and it still hurts just a bit to read. It’s a bit too personal, a bit too self-examining, a bit too much of Me than I usually put in a story, but it is what it is. The book isn’t for everybody. It isn’t even for my mom, who still hasn’t read it. It’s mostly just for me, in the end, but I’m glad to have gotten the chance to share it with people regardless.

If you’ve read it, I thank you. If you’ve stayed with Casey through the muck and the blood to the end, I truly appreciate it. I loved this story, not because I was sure it was great or that it would make me money, but because these characters meant so much and felt so right to me. To find people who loved it just  as much kind of makes it all worth it. Hell, to find people that hate it makes it worthwhile, too. It’s the little things, you know?

And now it’s over, and I’m setting up for my next move. I have plans to put out a physical volume once I settle with a publisher. (My friend Anna has already staked a claim as the cover artist, so at least that much is taken care of.) I have plans to write two more books about Casey Way and these holes in the world that swallow people up, and Joel and Mariska, and about characters you haven’t met yet. Like Gemma who has too many faces, and Karl the priest who doesn’t believe in the devil, and Liza who was born without a soul. There’s still places to explore and doors I haven’t unlocked, and I’m looking forward to it.

So Flesh Trap is almost over. I don’t know how exactly to feel about it, but it doesn’t matter. If you’re reading this, then you’ve probably read the story, and I thank you for it. And if you haven’t yet, I hope that you do. Onwards and upwards, in any case.