I spent a long time wondering what it was going to finally take to move on. To come to terms with the lies of tempered steel and diamonds that people are so fond of telling the victims of page-rippers. That we are stronger for having been hurt. That it has somehow come to define us. Shape our creativity.
This story was written in spite of the hell they put me through. I would be lying if I said that it was easy, or that I’m grateful that I have such a story to tell. I wish that there’d been a faster way to find healing. A less personal way. I wish the healing I’ve found writing had panned out the way I planned, according to a neat schedule and precisely as I expected.
I hope, if you’ve made it this far, you’ve found something you needed in this story, too. If not, I hope you find it somewhere else. Thank you though, for taking the time to listen—I can think of no higher honor for an author than for a reader to take a leap of faith, right on to the end.
And now, what you came here for: a little gratitude.
One would be hard-pressed to find another soul as kind or as loving as the one I have the privilege to call spouse. Unequivocally the Fletcher to my Elsie, the Sam to my Teddy, I could not have completed this project without the unending support of my husband. Our first years of marriage have been shaped by our Saturday mornings spent in the kitchen—he is cooking, and I read him the latest scenes—and our walks through the gardens, where we’d find a bench by the fountains to sit and review the manuscript, and truly, I can think of no better way to begin a marriage. My words cannot express my gratitude for the time, the kindness, and the love he has poured into this project. It is him, above all others, that helped me find a better ending to my story.
It is with the utmost gratitude that I would like to thank Lauren for her contributions to this project. A wickedly smart woman, she is quick to offer her unconditional support to the latest path her friend has decided to travel. She has, time and again, disproved the phrase loyalty before amity, because to her, they are one in the same. Thank you.
Who we are, we are not alone, and so, I would like to thank Stephen for being a like-minded soul wandering amongst the words. It can be daunting to traverse this world of ink-and-paper, but less so when we go together. For helping me find my humanity, supplying copious amounts of coffee, and worlds beyond words, you have my gratitude.
My brother has always been an unwavering source of confusion to me, being both absolutely dear to my heart and completely aggravating, which, I think, are the best two things a person can be in this world, anyway. In an adjacent town or thousands of miles away, he can be counted on for a sarcastic remark and a fierce, almost violent kind of support that is, frankly, concerningly.
Jen, for taking me into her program despite my eccentric resume. Frustrated with the job market, I rashly listed author under my list of qualifications when inquiring for work—she will be pleased to know this has at last been attained when I arrive at the office on Monday.
Elias, for undertaking the task of soothing my insecurities.
Sally, for understanding the unimportance of consistency in friendship. It doesn’t matter when—what matters is how, and that you do, in the end.
Catherine, for fascinating and utterly honest conversation that helped me get my feet on the ground.
Megan, for being a living example of the importance of internal and external moral consistency.
My lovely photographer, Laura, who in hiding my face helped me find myself.
My adopted father, who was already planning a book tour before I’d even finished writing.
My supportive colleagues, who have together conspired to help me find like-minded souls with pen-and-paper and who nodded very politely whilst I once more talked about writing—your sacrifice is greatly appreciated.
My friends with the spirit of the ro, who are all beautifully, unapologetically, radiantly uncontained in their own exquisite ways, who remind me of how deeply their narratives are needed.
I would be amiss, too, if I did not thank a group of people I have spent a long time getting acquainted with, and who have helped me thrive more than they could ever possibly know. They have taken on a life of their own far beyond what I could have ever imagined, and for that, I will be eternally grateful. Elsie, who taught me to stop waiting for life to happen. Through her, I saw a fierceness to the world, an unwillingness to accept what we have been given. Her capacity for both love and anger are inspiring, and often, not mutually exclusive. Fletcher, who showed me what it was to see ocean waves when everyone else was looking at the fields of grass. His difference, his persistence in the face of the impossible, and his kind heart inspire me to love that much deeper. Teddy, who healed his author as much as his friends. He has a knack for unraveling personal complexities with astounding clarity, I think, and never were my own knots easier to unwind than when writing about him. Sam, who proved to me time and again that we do not become our hurts, and that the sins we believe we commit might not very well be sins at all. His vivacity and unapologetic zest for life are beyond admirable, and exemplify a self-love to strive for. Risa, who made me feel less alone as she ventured far from home to make a life for herself. Isa, who proved to be the answer to so many of my own questions. Augustus, whose conflict is in the hearts of so many who are hurting. Chim, who showed me it was possible to keep childhood wonder, even as one accumulates years. To them all, who were unquestionably the victims of their author’s imagination.
I’m sure I haven’t missed anyone, as I am very diligent about my thanks, so please feel free to take exclusion from this list very personally, as it was probably deliberate.
Never will it be said that we thanked the page-rippers.
About the Author
C.H. Williams is a queer author, scholar, and occasional musician living in a vaguely coastal region out East. When not causing trouble or spending time with their husband, C.H. can often be found playing with their very energetic dog, scribbling away on the next new project, or zoning out to some tunes whilst enjoying nature.
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