The Rewrite Artist
Joe Meno can’t stop revising his latest story.
By Patrick Daily
November 3, 2006
IN 2003 NOVELIST and playwright
Joe Meno, like Billy Argo, the
protagonist of his new novel, The
Boy Detective Fails, was about to
turn 30, and he recalls feeling that
“everything seemed really gray, not
personally, but just looking at the
world.” He felt America had made
progress in the 90s and it had been
wiped away by the Bush administration,
the September 11 attacks, and
the looming war in Iraq.
This, he says, led to the formation
in his head of a certain character,
someone seemingly washed up early
in adulthood. That might seem like an
odd leap, but at the time Meno was
probably also thinking a lot about
the pressures of early success. He
sold his first novel to Saint Martin’s
Press at age 22, and his second, How
the Hula Girl Sings, was published
by HarperCollins four years later.
Both did fairly well, but he was
increasingly frustrated with the lack
of control he had over the process,
from editing to jacket design, and by
the increasingly marginalized place
literary fiction held in the industry at
large. When his HarperCollins editor
quit shortly after Hula came out, he
says, “I felt like there weren’t a lot of
options for me there either, unless I
was going to become a professional
wrestler.” He abandoned the New
York publishing universe for the
upstart local Punk Planet Books
imprint in 2003. His third novel and
first for Punk Planet, Hairstyles of
the Damned, has since sold 70,000
copies, making him a hero of indie lit.
Dear to Meno’s heart was childhood
reading fare like the
Encyclopedia Brown puzzle stories
and the Hardy Boys mysteries. “No
matter what, those two brothers
always solved the crime. And it’s so
satisfying because as a kid you’re this
powerless person, and you read these
books and these kids always find the
solution.” But what if they couldn’t?
The result of his brooding was a short story about, in Meno’s words,
“a guy whose sister has died and he
would just ride around on buses and
trains watching people.” It was a
bare-bones treatment of his idea,
and after finishing it he started to
write a play around the same sad
character, in a process that he says
helps him flesh out characters and
compose definite scenes. “As a fiction
writer, that’s the way I understand
what a story is. It helps me
figure out the skeleton, what this
thing is really going to be about.”
The fleshing out resulted in a play
about a former kid sleuth confronting
adulthood and the mysterious
suicide of his little sister. It
was far more complex than any
Meno had written before, with
numerous set changes, an introductory
film, and onstage snowfall. He
knew House Theatre of Chicago
playwright Phil Klapperich through
Columbia College, where both
attended grad school (and where
Meno now teaches), and had
enjoyed what he’d seen of the company’s
shows, expansive mythical
tales like their “Valentine Trilogy,”
which incorporated live music and
video. It was “like seeing a blockbuster
onstage,” he says. “And I
thought, if anybody could produce
this thing it would be these guys.”
The Boy Detective Fails opened in
May to mostly favorable reviews.
Nathan Allen directed and Kevin
O’Donnell composed a harpsichord-and-strings score that was played
live during performances.
Meanwhile, Meno had been
working on the story’s third manifestation—a novel published by Punk
Planet in September and now in its
second printing. That work led to a
rewrite of the script “based on what I
had figured out in the novel”—namely
that Billy’s struggle to understand
his sister’s death was the through
line of the story. The long prose form
also allowed him to throw in typographical
tricks, like white space and
blocks of text meant to resemble
buildings, that not even Allen—with
his “uncanny sense of what looks
good onstage”—could’ve pulled off in
live performance. He was also able
to expand the number of characters
to include an 11-year-old nerdy
genius and her mute bully of a
younger brother, whom Meno says
he now sees, based on conversations
with audience members at readings,
as the real stars of the book.
“I’m not very precious with my
writing,” he says. “I know that to write
one good story I’m going to probably
write eight or nine bad ones. But
that’s the only way I can figure stuff
out. It’s just process.” And the process
goes on. Meno says that at readings
to promote the book he finds himself
substituting new phrases for
what’s in print. “It’s never done.” 
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