In a Josh & Josh first, you can listen to this post, narrated by Josh H. Check it out!
Lately we get asked these questions a lot: What happened to you guys earlier this year? You barely wrote anything. Where did you go? Is everything okay? We get asked in e-mails, in the comments section on our blog, and even, a few times, on the street. It’s a simple question, really, but the answer is—surprise, surprise—a little more complicated. To really get a sense of what happened and what unfolded in the last six months or so it’s probably best to rewind the clock to March. I can’t necessarily speak for Josh K., but I can explain what happened with me.
Life was pretty good as March began and spring in New York began to unfurl. A few of my pieces had come out in the magazine and I had even done a TV segment promoting one of the stories. The producers of the show liked me and asked if I’d like to come back to do more spots. Sure, I said, why not? Outside of work, Josh and I continued doing celeb interviews for the blog world, popping out over lunch, say, to zoom across the city and shoot a quick interview with Mario Lopez before sneaking back to our desks with a sandwich and going on with our day as if nothing had happened. Things were busy—and getting busier every day—but, for the most part, it was manageable. We were having fun, so the work didn’t seem so much like work.
Then an amazing, totally unexpected thing happened—something that Josh and I might have idly dreamed about, but certainly not something we imagined as an imminent possibility. A young, talented book editor, who had apparently been checking out our blog for some time, shot us a one-line e-mail: “So when are the two of you going to pitch me a book?” We were flabbergasted. And thrilled. Then a literary agent got involved in the mix, and suddenly Josh and I were having lunches and dinners and drinks and talking about doing a bona fide Josh & Josh project in addition to all of the other things we had set in motion.
At the same time I was also dating a thoughtful, up-and-coming clothing designer named Evan who worked for one of New York’s big fashion houses. It was a spring romance that bloomed quickly, but by the time Evan entered the picture things had already started to reach a fever pitch in my own life. I was stretching every last minute in my Google calendar to the seams. That little calendar, which painstakingly kept my life from spinning into chaos with its neat little hour-long blocks, had become uncomfortably crammed.
If I wasn’t putting a piece together for the magazine then I was prepping for a TV segment to promote another story, or I was prepping for one of the celeb interviews, or I was furiously scribbling notes for the book proposal, trying to hew together a few chapter headings and ideas, or Josh and I were running all over town with a camera and a notebook and index cards full of questions—or I was at dinner with my boyfriend, or watching a movie on the couch with him (and fidgeting lightly, trying not to think about the work that needed to be done), or I was writing something for the blog or waking up early on Saturday morning and kissing Evan goodbye on the street and rushing to Hell’s Kitchen to meet with Josh K. over a plate of scrambled eggs and French toast to figure out What Was Next.
Josh and I worked. Hard. We worked, and when we weren’t working, Josh and I talked about working. At first it was heady, and crazy, and fun. Work, work work. Go, go, go. We were getting tired, a bit worn around the edges—but wasn’t this exactly what we had always wanted? All of these projects, all of these things going on? Wasn’t this what we had moved to New York for in the first place? Yes, yes it was. Okay, fine—so we redoubled our efforts. It felt like we were just inches away from everything we ever wanted, ready for takeoff.
But slowly heady, crazy, and fun became just heady and crazy. Then just crazy. And then it became wearying. We began to burn out.
As the end of April neared I looked at my calendar and saw that for the last three and a half weeks I had been doing something—working on one of our projects or out somewhere and doing God knows what—every single night. My boyfriend was tapping his fingers, asking when he could see me next. And I didn’t make matters any better by deciding—oh, why not?—to go ahead and run the half-marathon in July and start training immediately. Because I didn’t have anything else going on, right?
Finally, late one night, Josh and I were talking on the phone, rehashing ideas about the book proposal (and starting to talk in circles, something that was happening more and more frequently) and also planning the interviews we wanted to pitch that week. I started to lose track of the conversation. I took off my glasses and slumped onto my couch. There was a long silence.
“Josh, when was the last time you and I actually hung out?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I mean, when was the last time you and I just ordered a pizza and threw in some stupid movie and just, you know, sat around and did absolutely nothing and didn’t talk about work or any projects or anything?”
Another long silence. “I mean, I can’t even remember.”
Neither could I. Hell, it was the first time I had been alone in my apartment and actually at home in weeks.
But we muscled on. We tried to keep going. We tried to keep up the pace. More interviews, more writing, more talk. But every time there was less and less heart, and less and less fun. I started wondering why we were doing any of it anymore. What did it all matter? Why were we doing all of this anyway?
Then, one day, it all came apart.
Josh and I had turned the volume all the way up, and after weeks and months of the blaring noise, I reached for the plug. And I pulled. Hard.
First things first: I broke up with my boyfriend. I stopped doing the TV segments. I couldn’t muster the energy or enthusiasm to interview one more celebrity—not for our blog, not for anyone. I couldn’t even open the notebook jammed with scribbles and one-liners and chapter headings for the Josh & Josh book proposal. At night I would click on our blog and start to write an entry, but then I’d just watch the cursor blink and eventually slap the laptop shut.
I didn’t want any of it anymore—none of it. Done.
I did the only thing left to do: I just stopped. Everything.

And so summer began, and life was very simple: Wake up, go to work, come home to Brooklyn, then curl up on the couch with a big, thick book. I began an unrelenting literary campaign unlike anything I'd ever embarked upon before. I'd always been a book fiend, sure, but I started going through books at a blistering pace. I barely did anything else but read. I couldn't muster the attention span for TV or movies anymore. Sometimes I'd pick up a magazine, but even then I often just flipped through, sighing and tossing the magazine back on the floor.
My laptop sat in the corner of the living room, untouched. My Google calendar was completely blank. I'd occassionally call Josh and we'd talk about—well, actually, there wasn't much to talk about anymore. Sometimes I'd just leave my phone off altogether.
Even New York City couldn't coax me out of the snug cocoon I had fashioned for myself. When the weekend came I often eschewed the city altogether and stayed in my cozy corner of Brooklyn, floating on a sea of books, usually alternating two at a time, finishing them as fast as I could pick them up. The city outside felt loud, hot, expensive, unkind. The usual pleasures—a walk in Central Park, brunch in the West Village, a gallery opening in Chelsea, a reading downtown, a spin through the Museum of Modern Art, a trashy matinee movie with a friend—none of it held any appeal. I just stayed in Brooklyn, nestled on my big blue couch.
I really didn't know if things would ever be the same. And, truthfully, I didn't really want them to be. Something had to change.
Then, one day, late in August, as I’d finished the fifteenth or sixteenth book of the summer—standing, stretching my limbs, putting the paperback on the shelf—I was done reading. No fuss, no muss, just: done. And that was really interesting (and mildly horrifying), because I already wasn’t doing anything else, so I truly wasn’t doing anything at all.
Consider Saturday morning: Wake up. Pull on t-shirt, eat cereal. Chew. Wash bowl. Sit on couch. Look outside. Soak in air conditioning. Twiddle thumbs.
And really, that couldn’t last that long.
But there also wasn’t an accompanying mad rush to get back to writing or doing interviews or segments or any of the projects Josh and I had been doing before.
September arrived. The oppressive heat of late summer eased its grip on the city. One day, really having nothing else to do, I ventured outside. I looked around, squinting my eyes into the afternoon sun. A dizzyingly tall, impeccably dressed young couple stepped past me on the sidewalk. Across the street under a green awning a shopkeeper swept the sidewalk in front of his store. A group of friends clustered outside the boutique brunchery next door, chatting amiably.
Hmmm, I thought. New York City. Very interesting. It was still there.
I decided maybe I’d have a look around. You know, just in case. Whatever. Why not? Maybe I could just pop in for a quick brunch on Bleecker Street. Maybe a trip to the giant Barnes & Noble in Union Square wouldn’t be a total bore. Maybe sprawling in the grass of the Great Lawn in Central Park with Josh K. and ogling the boys throwing frisbees wouldn’t be the end of the world. Maybe?
And just like that, very quietly, very slowly, I rejoined the world. My cell phone wasn't turned off so often. I started reading only one book at a time, letting myself have a few weeks to finish. I went to a dinner party. I met friends at a little dive bar for drinks and we ate so many bowls of chips and salsa that we skipped dinner (and ordered another round of drinks instead).
I was back. And it felt good. Really good, actually.
But the projects? The creative stuff?
Nope. Still none of that.

Weeks passed. A new rhythm settled in as the summer ended and fall descended, bring it with it oranges, reds, and yellows, and a light chill in the mornings. Workdays at the magazine whooshed by easily and I spent my evenings with friends or lazing around my apartment and, yes—finally—I started dating again.
One morning, as I settled in at my desk at work, I opened Gmail and my hands froze over the keyboard. One of the e-mails, a few down from the top, caught my eye. I had a feeling I knew what would be inside. I clicked on the message.
“Hey, I'm wondering if you guys would be interested in interviewing Jennifer Hudson. She's got a new album out tomorrow and a movie coming out, and if you're available tomorrow morning…”
I clicked the message shut. I swallowed. Was I ready yet to even think about this kind of thing? Were Josh and I ready to go down the rabbit hole again, after everything?
I picked up the phone.
“Are you reading this?” I asked Josh.
“Hold on, I'm just opening it.” Silence. “Oh.”
“Yeah. What do you think? Should we?”
A long silence. “Um. Well, I don't know.” Another pause. “Well, why not, maybe?”
I smiled. I didn't know it until he'd said it, but that was exactly the answer I wanted to hear. The next morning security was ushering us through the winding back offices of the CBS Early Show and, minutes later, we were sitting with Jennifer Hudson, chatting away. It was crazy.
Then, as if doing that first interview unleashed some sort of creative karmic avalanche, suddenly I was asked to do a celeb Q&A at work—and then asked if I possibly wanted to do a whole series. And then they needed somebody to be a guest on a TV segment about upcoming trends in 2009 and, well, would I be interested? Then two popular podcasters wanted to know if we'd do a guest spot on their show. Then a favorite Broadway star agreed to do an interview for Josh & Josh. It rained; it poured. We were having fun again, doing our Josh & Josh thing.
Finally, the icing on the cake: An e-mail came from the same patient, tenacious book editor Josh and I had talked to earlier in the year. Would Josh and I be interested in having dinner and chatting about book ideas again? And would we want to meet one of her friends, a talented literary agent?
This time there wasn't any hesitation. Yes, yes we would.
Holy shit.
And just like that, we were back. Truly back.
It felt amazing.
Even more than that, it felt right.

“Oh my god, fatty, are you going to eat that whole thing?” Josh K. asked.
I laughed, hugging my jumbo box of Whoppers to my chest. “I’m sorry, I had to. My inner fat girl got so happy when I saw these on the shelf. I couldn’t help myself.”
He nodded. “Well, I couldn’t help myself, either.” He pulled a King Size Kit Kat from his backpack, along with a bag of Twizzlers.
“Ah, now we’re talking,” I said. Advertisements for Upper West Side real estate agents played on the movie screen in front of us as we waited for our matinee to begin. I tore into my box of chocolaty goodness as Josh went after the plastic on the licorice twists.
“So I was thinking of shooting Hunter Bell an e-mail on Wednesday about doing the interview.”
Josh nodded slowly, still working on the plastic.
“What?” I asked.
Josh popped a twist in his mouth and then dangled one toward me. I took the bait.
“Okay, it’s just that I’m thinking: If you and I are going to start doing this stuff again, we have to make each other a promise. We have to not let it ever get out of hand like it did this year. This is supposed to be fun. We started this whole thing as something amusing to do, not because we wanted piles of work that we felt obligated to do. So if we’re going to do all of this again, it has to be fun.”
I nodded. “Deal.” I stole another licorice twist.
“And we have to have days where we don’t talk about any of this stuff.”
“Done and done.”
The lights began to dim. “Oh, and I had an idea for the title of the book,” Josh said. I burst out laughing when he told me.
“Oh my god, I love it,” I said.
The theater darkened. It was time for the previews, for what was coming next.
I couldn’t wait.
Ah the power of saying NO. One of life's great underdeveloped skills. Reading your post I thought of the occasional whining I get at the dinner table when I accidently hand one of my kids an adult size portion. Too much of a good thing is bad, even if it's Mac and Cheese. Welcome to my dinner table.
I knew within hours of meeting you that you were going to have a life filled with opportunities to say YES to great things. At your age and where you are in your life it's easy to say YES to everything, but creating frenzy is not the same thing as creating a full life.
Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy.
Posted by: heather hanson | November 09, 2008 at 09:00 AM
Thanks for coming back to us guys. You've been missed. Here's to a healthier approach to new things to come.
Posted by: fatdan | November 09, 2008 at 09:26 AM
Thank God you're back :)
Posted by: scholiast | November 09, 2008 at 09:30 AM
welcome back home, boys. We missed you!
Posted by: Brian | November 09, 2008 at 03:30 PM
Must be one of your best blogs yet. I have been secretly keeping up with you two from afar for the past two years. It has been inspiring checking in every few weeks for updates. What a humbling thing to get a whirl wind of "success" and then dropping out for a bit to decompress and realize that the whole point was to enjoy what you were doing. Now that this amazing life lesson has been awarded I can't wait to see what further things come your way. Staying tuned.
Posted by: David Bibbs | November 09, 2008 at 04:53 PM
I'd love to know what books you read durring your s/s 08 hibernation.
Also, I've been doing the same thing for about a year now. I keep getting little hints and feelings, telling me to get back into myself, and my life. I'm taking this as my final sign.
All signs are pointing to jump! Again, and for the first time. Thank you for this post.
Posted by: Alyn | November 09, 2008 at 07:28 PM
I have been reading this blog since shortly after ya'll graduated from the U of M. Josh H. you were a CA in my dorm my freshman year, and Josh K. you worked the front desk. I want you both to know how much i've enjoyed reading your adventures. They break up the monotony! I wish you both the best of luck!! THANKS!
Posted by: Sara | November 09, 2008 at 09:24 PM
oof. Josh, that was great, and reminds me why I keep coming back in the first place. I'm sure I'm not alone in saying that I can't wait for this book! You were missed, though congratulations on passing one more milestone in the never-ending search for balance...here's to hoping it's better this time around!
Posted by: Aaron | November 10, 2008 at 12:47 AM
Fantastic journey. Sounds like you're both on the right track.
Posted by: Robert | November 10, 2008 at 07:37 AM
Thanks, guys. :)
It's great to hear your voices *telling* your story; it totally brings a new dimension to things.
I love it.
Keep it up and welcome back!
Posted by: Tim | November 10, 2008 at 12:07 PM
Congratulations and welcome back, I missed your news.
Posted by: Mark | November 10, 2008 at 01:10 PM
welcome back...
Posted by: Brian | November 10, 2008 at 01:41 PM
So NPRish! I loved it! Absolutely loved every minute of it. I have been reading since your U of M days. Watching the trajectory of both of your lives has been amazing.
Thanks for this. It gave me chills and also reminded me of my own life (though mine is not so glamorous) and New York's crazy ability to breathe that second wind into your soul just when you're about to give up.
Posted by: Jon-Marc | November 10, 2008 at 02:15 PM
I haven't visited your blog in months but I have to say that definitely listening to your blog makes it VERY refreshing and interesting. Please keep this kind of thing up...maybe?
Posted by: Physical | November 10, 2008 at 09:09 PM
I'm glad you are back!
Posted by: Roy | November 11, 2008 at 11:05 AM
YAY!
Welcome back boys. Missed you!
-R
Posted by: Ruben | November 11, 2008 at 02:23 PM
Very interesting.
Posted by: Bob | November 11, 2008 at 02:47 PM
Definitely wanted to underscore the comments already left on the post. You're a great writer and it was fun to actually let you tell your own story, so well done with the audio addition.
And quit being so shy. We'd all love to see some of these extracurricular projects you mention.
m@
mattsign.com
Posted by: m@ | November 11, 2008 at 03:14 PM
* At 2,600 words, this is the longest post in Josh & Josh's nearly four-year history. (That's 1/38th of a novel! Shazaaam!)
* The podcast was recorded in one shot, all the way through, on the first try. Go figure, right?
Posted by: Josh & Josh Trivia Dept. | November 11, 2008 at 11:46 PM
Hey guys. Wow, I honestly can't tell you how much your kind words mean to me. I would tell you that my eyes got watery as I read the comments, but then that might be embarrassing, so maybe I'll just keep that to myself. (Oh. Wait. Shit! Oops. Oh well.)
Josh and I have said it since day one: We have the coolest, kindest, best readers, and even after all this time, you guys still make it fun. Thank you for going on this lil journey with us. Thank you for re-embracing us.
Here's to many more good times together. :)
Posted by: Josh H. | November 11, 2008 at 11:49 PM
Welcome back!!
Posted by: Justen | November 12, 2008 at 11:03 AM
hello, i am new to the blog and am reading it from the UK. just had a week in NY and stayed in Hells Kitchen somewhere lovely and your blog has been great inspiration for places to see.
well what a time you have had, maybe you should take formal J+J holidays through the year, you can't always protect against stress but you can put in some safety measures... i think it is called hard to get!
welcome back, heres hoping for a great winter season for you both
regards catherine x
Posted by: Catherine | November 14, 2008 at 05:17 PM
So glad you worked through a down time. You guys are great fun. Appreciate what you have, even though i have a wonderful man, my bff is far away, and bffs fill a void no one else can.
Continued luck and fun...one day i'll have the guts to say hi to you guys on the street...i pass you all the time.
Posted by: chrisnyc | November 15, 2008 at 12:14 AM
Wow! A Book! I still remember when you were just Josh H hanging out at Vera's. I've never met anyone as successful as you in such a short amount of time! Congratulations. Such a successful road from not that long from the halls of Pioneer. Although I don't remember ever meeting Josh K., Congratulations to both of you. You both very much deserve it and you both do great work!
Posted by: Shannon | November 15, 2008 at 09:39 PM
And this, my friends, is EXACTLY why you guys should be writing a book.
But you know, have fun. Life ain't worth living any other way.
Posted by: Dudboi | November 22, 2008 at 10:40 AM