Hello everyone! The first thing I want to say is THANK YOU so much to those of you who are giving to the Patreon. It means more to me than you can imagine. I appreciate every single one of you. Currently we are at seven patrons, and $8 per thing with a goal of $20 per thing. Like I said before, I’m new to this, so I’m just trying all of this out to see how it works and to see if I can really be successful at creating art in exchange for money.
I haven’t said much since I made the Patreon last week, mostly because I felt that I didn’t really have enough content yet to actually go advertising my page. After all, plenty of other Patreons are loaded with art, webcomics, and short stories. What I wanted to do was to start writing my novel, and to make the first couple of chapters a “thing,” and release it to patrons.
But a funny thing happened. Firstly, even though I’ve felt inspired enough to write (and I’ve been reading Robert Jordan’s The Wheel of Time, which is regarded as one of the great master works of modern fantasy), I actually haven’t sat down and written anything. This isn’t really anything new, I think every writer probably struggles with the discipline of making themselves sit down and get the writing done.
But today something really unexpected happened when I sat down to write on my blog. My intent was to write about how I came to live in Delaware, in an attempt to help myself sort out my feelings and come up with a plan for how to proceed next with life. I decided that a good place to start was with my breakup from my boyfriend two years ago, as that is when things started to change in my life. But I accidentally started writing about our entire relationship, from the beginning, and what was intended as a quick aside to set the scene for how we got together and then broke up, became an incredibly details account of our whole relationship together.
It’s not like our relationship was anything so unique that it’s a better story than anyone else’s relationship stories. But I kept writing, because I just wanted to get it all out, I wanted to explain my side of things, and (knowing that my ex-boyfriend is friends with me currently and might want to read what I wrote), I wanted to share my side with him and really apologize for all that I did wrong. I’ve had so much time to grow from the experience, and reflecting on it, I see a lot more mistakes than I realized I’d made before.
I wrote this really just for myself, but I just couldn’t stop writing, and after a couple of hours it was to 7,000 words, and then to nearly 10,000 words. I thought to myself, “Now if I can just write something fictional that’s that length and I can release it on Patreon.”
But then I thought wait. I really put my heart and soul into writing this, I think it’s an interesting story, and in examining myself and the relationships, I managed to talk about a lot of things that are important to me: anxiety, panic attacks, obsessive compulsive disorder, death, parents, relationships, polyamory and monogamy, physical and emotional abuse. I decided that maybe I SHOULD share this with you guys, as the very first “thing.”
It isn’t a novel and it isn’t music, but it is something I wrote from the heart. It’s autobiographical, and it’s substantive enough in length that I feel it constitutes it’s own piece of work. If my patrons were a group of mostly anonymous strangers who were only following my page because they wanted to read a fantasy novel, I would think twice about posting this as the first “thing,” but since all of you who are currently following me are my friends, who not only care about my life and my experiences but also enjoy discussing life experiences, and who are invested enough to care about the story, I’ve decided to share this with you all.
I promise I haven’t forgotten about the novel. I intend to start soon. I think I already know what’s going to happen next. But for the moment, this will be Thing number one. It’s an autobiographical account of my relationship with my ex-boyfriend, beginning when I was twenty years old and moving forward to when I was twenty-three. Like I said before there are descriptions of abuse, anxiety, death, and other possibly triggering subjects, so be prepared for that if you do decide to read.
I’m going to post the story as a patron-only post right after this one, it may take a few minutes to get the images in and have everything formatted properly.
Thank you for supporting me. Thank you for listening. Thank you for caring.
(The following is cross-posted from Patreon. If you don’t know what Patreon is, basically it’s like an interactive Kickstarter, except that instead of funding one big project, you pledge a certain amount per creation, as much as you’d like to give, to support artists who are creating anything you can imagine. I’m trying this out as a way of gaining feedback and motivation to write my novel, and hopefully get a taste of what it’s like to actually make money for my art. I’m not trying to make a living on Patreon – not yet at least – but this is a great starting place for me. If you like what I write, or you like my music, or you just want to support me creating something in any way, you can become a patron and get access to a lot of neat stuff.)
I’ve always created stories.
As a child, the way I had fun was to wander around outside, on my own, using my imagination to create big adventures. My first inspiration was and continues to be video games, and I still remember when I was seven years old, running around the back yard with a stick in my hand that could be used either as a sword or a gun, whenever I needed it, and creating stories about my favorite video game characters.
The first game to ignite my imagination was Final Fantasy VII. I loved this game in a deep and profound way that can’t honestly be described. The music, the scenery, the vivid story hooked my attention and my imagination and never let go. I used to draw the characters on paper, then cut the pieces of paper out and use them as toys and have them battle. I would go outside and grab a stick, and sing the battle music and I executed turn-based combat all by myself, playing both the player character and the opponent, in what I’m sure was a hilarious sight to behold.
As I grew older I continued to play this way, and it’s the way I got out my creative energy. I never wrote down the stories that I made up, which started out as fanfiction, long before I knew that fanfiction existed, and even long before I knew that there were OTHER people who also loved Final Fantasy, Sonic the Hedgehog, Zelda and Mega Man the way I did. When I played with my toys, I created platformer video game style levels for them to hop around and pitted them against enemies in video game fashion. When I was thirteen, my method of play didn’t change, in fact it evolved. Now the stories I made up were a little more complex. There were villains with motivations, there were relationships between characters, and I even started to come up with stories that, even though they were heavily influenced by video games and television, were still my own.
At fifteen I continued to play this way by myself, only it was much more conspicuous to be seen waving a stick around and talking to yourself, especially with the emotion of someone acting a character on stage, so what I began to do was just go on long walks, and see the scenario in my mind, and speak the characters’ dialogue under my breath. When I was seventeen and started to enjoy listening to music, I would create dramatic music videos that often involved fight scenes between characters in the games I loved, or even my own characters.
I’m twenty six now, and I still come up with my stories this way. If I have an open space where no one can see me and a stick, I will indeed pick it up, use it as a sword, and engage in my own RPG style combat against imaginary enemies, create characters and soliloquize from the perspective of villains or protagonists. I also take copious notes and write a lot of scenes out of order, with the result being that many of those scenes no longer make sense in the stories the way they are now.
The first time I sat down to write one of my stories I was twelve. Well actually, technically the earliest story I can remember writing was a Sonic the Hedgehog fanfiction when I was in second grade. My mother still has the paper. I also wrote one in third grade about James Bond, in the style of the Nintendo 64 game Goldeneye. But the first earnest attempt to write an actual book, a real cohesive story, was when I was twelve. It was a fantasy story, intended to be an epic in the style of Final Fantasy. The concept was that the story took place in a world which had once been devastated by a great flood akin to those in various religious mythologies (indeed, the first thing I sat down and wrote was a prologue that occurred during the Christian Biblical flood), and a certain demon who could take the form of a great leviathan had survived the flood, and was now out to kill a young man whose destiny it was to vanquish him.
Not the most novel idea, but I still say that it wasn’t bad for a twelve year old. I didn’t get very far with the story, but it stayed in my mind and continued to evolve. I created more characters as time went by, added subplots. The main character’s brother was killed in the opening scene, but when I started listening to My Chemical Romance’s Black Parade, I decided that he had faked his death to protect his brother. When I started listening to Queen, I added a scenario in which the main character was thrown into prison in a gladiatorial coliseum, and created a character named Dexter to help him out of the situation, and funnily enough Dexter actually survived and is now a character in the novel I’m writing. When I became interested in choral music I created a mournful scene in which Dexter lamented the death of his lover (no longer a part of Dexter’s character in the new novel, by the way).
All of this played out in my head, very little was written down. And this is the way my stories have always been. Pages and pages of dialogue are improvised by me and most of the time I never write any of it down. It’s still the way I’m most comfortable writing, although now I’ve learned to either record myself speaking, or take notes as I’m talking.
Every idea spirals into a series of ideas, and eventually they start connecting to one another, and then there’s an entire story, complete with subplots and character arcs and relationships… but it’s all in my head. I speak the characters lines when I’m in the shower, when I fall into depression and I feel lonely I play a scene in my mind of two of my characters cuddling and falling asleep. These stories are a part of me, and they go with me wherever I go. These characters exist. And I want other people to see them.
Music is probably an important part of everyone’s life, in one way or another. But the funny thing is, I actually hated music (that is, pop/rock music, anything you might hear on the radio or on a CD) until I was a teenager. My mother actually commented to me how weird it was that I didn’t like music, and I did ultimately start getting CD’s (the first one was In The Zone by Britney Spears, the second war The Very Best of Cher), but I hadn’t developed any kind of passion for music yet. But over time I realized: I DID have a passion for music and I always had, it’s just that it was all video game music. Sonic the Hedgehog, Final Fantasy, The Legend of Zelda, and theme songs to television shows, I LOVED that music.
I started learning to play piano when I was sixteen, because I wanted to learn how to play a song I really liked (it was Axel F from Beverly Hills Cop, as remixed by Crazy Frog). My chorus teacher taught me to play the song and I instantly wanted to learn to play others. The second thing I learned were the opening chords to Roxanne by The Police (simply because that was the nearest songbook on hand in the chorus room), and then of course one day I realized that Final Fantasy songs could be played on piano, so I brought him the sheet music to one of my favorites, the Final Fantasy VII battle theme, and watched him play it. I was amazed. I was really, truly hearing the music, in real life, coming out of a real instrument.
From that point there was no turning back. Video game music was why I learned to play piano, and as I grew up and discovered Tori Amos, Amanda Palmer, Imogen Heap, Amy Lee and other artists who use the piano to communicate their music, I learned to play their songs, and I learn more about how to play every time I play one of their songs.
And that’s the thing. I’ve always thought that I couldn’t be a writer or a musician because most of my ideas aren’t entirely original, they’re borrowed. I borrow my story ideas from Final Fantasy and Breath of Fire and Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles, I borrow my musical structure from Evanescence and Tori Amos. I’ve always thought to myself, “Well yeah I like to play music and write, but no one would pay for it, I can’t actually be a real artist, because everyone will see right through it to the sources from which I pulled.”
But I didn’t realize that everyone pulls from everyone else. No ideas are entirely new, and in fact most of the best stories are retelling of mythological stories and campfire adventures, with characters who are archetypes. Some of the best musical pieces in history are variations on themes from earlier times. Good artists create using borrowed ideas as well as their own ideas, and what comes out is something unique that no one else can create in exactly the same way as that artist created it.
Everyone’s voice is unique. Their vocal ability, the playing of their instrument, and the way they write their poetry and their stories, it’s unique to them. Neil Gaiman says, “Tell your story in the way that only you can tell it.” Every artist fights against directly copying their inspirations, and it’s terrifying to see something you’ve created and know that a part of it’s skeleton is borrowed from another artist. The bones holding together my stories come from more places than just my own imagination, and the chord used to keep my songs going don’t come from my mind alone.
But that’s okay.
What’s important is that the creation happens. What’s important is the warm, beaming pride I feel when I look at the screen and see the words that came from me. Their origins may have come from other places, the ideas and the concepts might have been borrowed, but those ideas were churned through my mind and I created something that only I can create. Sometimes it’s better than other times. That’s okay. Kesha says “You have to give yourself permission to suck.” And it’s true. No one becomes a great writer by starting out writing something brilliant, and no one becomes a great musician by composing their master work on day one. But the important thing is to KEEP CREATING.
So that’s why I’m here. I’m here to create. I’m here to write the novel that’s been growing and living inside of me. I’m here to write the songs that I sing to myself, and to recite the lyrics that I hurriedly copy down on sheets of papers, sticky notes, and the notepad of whatever device I’m holding.
I want to share it with you, and I want to know that you hear me. I want to hear your ideas about what I’m creating, I want to know what you think.
Everyone is going to die. Most of us are afraid of that. I certainly am. But it helps me to know that I can create something that will be here after I’m gone, a record of my thoughts. A story that talks about the things that are important to me. Characters who address the things I’m afraid of, the things I long for, the things I wish were true, and the things I hope will become true.
There is much work to be done. There are more details to go into and more specifics to explain. But this is where it begins.
The simple explanation is: I’m writing a fantasy novel. I write poetry, I write fiction, I want to write a nonfiction book about my experience with religion and maybe even an autobiographical book of stories from my life. I play piano. I sing. I write songs.
This is the first step.
If I keep going, I might be a real artist one day. Someone who wakes up in the morning and does what they love.
That is my dream. That is my wish, and my goal.
Thank you for being here with me. Thank you for helping me. Thank you for listening.
Let’s get started.