bwimaginarium

[bwimaginarium]

Deadlines...

Douglas Adams ("The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" and much more) said that he loved deadlines, and that he particularly enjoyed the whooshing noise they made as they went by. Reed Waller's Omaha the Cat Dance once said, "I've never missed a cue. I've grazed one, a few times."

I have a Patreon for my finest furry fiction, and I charge by the story or novel chapter. My patrons can expect up to two entries per month, and no more than that, so that they know they aren't signing a blank check. They are still very generous to me, and I am very grateful, whether the pledge is small or large. The appreciate me, and they appreciate my work. I don't write for the masses; I write for people who enjoy what I write.

Sometimes, the calendar is not my friend. Like a lot of creative people, my brain occasionally decides it's gonna get bull-goose bozo, fixate on some atrocity, bemoan how much of the last six decades of my life I've effed-up, soak up huge quantities of nitro-brewed Imposter Syndrome IPA, and generally shut down any attempt at feeling worthy of breathing, much less anything else. The approaching deadline, plus Uvalde, plus lack of physical reassurance, plus diet issues (I want my sodding chocolate, or there's no point to life), plus all-too-regular insomnia, plus daily stress, and you do the math.

This hit in the last ten calendar days of the month, and I was about to punt my Patreon. This hurts for several reasons. I'm living on disability, and the extra income really helps pay for food and things I couldn't otherwise afford. I really want to feel that creative groove, because it's a very powerful force in my life, when my brain isn't screaming about something else and getting in the way. I also really don't want to disappoint my patrons, my readers, my fans, my friends. They're a special bunch, and they like what I do, and they tell their friends, and they seem to like what I do, too.

Artwork IS work, and it means a lot to me to have people who are willing to express their appreciation of my work with a few bucks in the hat, a kind word, an encouragement based on wanting to know what happens next. It hurts when my disabilities get in the way. A few are physical, a few are neurological, a few are mental. Sometimes, they pile together in a gang-bang orgy of synergistic fury that makes me believe that I really would be better off pulling the plug. I'm such a fake anyway, right?

I made the deadline this time, posting the ninth chapter of my novel-in-progress on the 30th, and the tenth chapter (barely finished) today. I hope they're good (Imposter Syndrome). I also hope that the next two chapters aren't quite so difficult to bring forth for next month. I want them to Be. The characters who came to me, who want me to tell their stories, they want them to Be. My patrons want them to Be.

Time to rest tonight. Time not to hurt over deadlines. Not time to be dead. I've got work to do.

[bwimaginarium]

The Art of Asking

Yes, that’s the title of Amanda Palmer’s book and audiobook, which I’ve been listening to lately. One of the things that she speaks of is how she used blogs back when the Internet was new, how she still does today, and how she has dared to share the good, the bad, the ugly, the downright weird. Her followers love her for being real, whether she’s happy or sad, rich or poor, on the road or at home... whatever she is, wherever and whenever she is.

Damn gutsy, enit?

She speaks of all the reasons we stop ourselves from being genuine. On a bummed day, I might appear weak or whiny, insecure or unstable, needy or grasping. On a great day, I might appear egotistical, boastful, superior. On an ordinary day, I might appear boring, tedious, unworthy of someone’s time. This whirling vortex of unspeakable evil, where nothing I can do or be is even the slightest bit acceptable to anyone, is where I was born, raised, carefully controlled, constantly and consistently reinforced, and living in for just short of 64 years now.

I would love to use that happy catch-all “I don’t care what other people think.” Miss Palmer cares; don’t think she doesn’t. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t connect with people the way she does. She does point out that she doesn’t change who she is for the benefit or comfort of others. My opinion is that those who genuinely don’t care what other people think are sad, disconnected, self-destroying people who have forgotten that connection is what makes us whole.

Let’s try something else. “I will strive to be who I am, offering that to others, who may or may not like what they find... which is okay, because they are working to be who they are, too.”

I hope you like who and what I am, what I have to share. I’m going to be vulnerable enough to ask you, gentle reader, to connect with me. It might be difficult sometimes; it might also be fun sometimes. Perhaps, after over six decades, I can try being real, without apologies.

Wish me luck.

[bwimaginarium]

I’m still in shock, so outbursts like this happen. Sen. Chris Murphy (CT) said it best: “What are we doing?”

[bwimaginarium]

Introduction

Let me introduce myself. I am Tristan Black Wolf (a.k.a. Tristan MacAvery). As I write this, it’s Thanksgiving Day in the US, in the year 2021 CE, which is 5782 in the Hebrew calendar, and 4719 (Year of the Ox) in the Chinese calendar. These dates are as close as I can get in my limited research; as you’ll find in this blog, I try to perform my fact checking.

A few facts about me, then about the blog. I’m 63 years old as of my last whelpday in August. My BA comes from Sam Houston State University (Huntsville TX) and is a double-major in English (lit and rhetoric) and psychology, with a minor in philosophy; this degree prepared me for no known job in the US, but I’ve had quite a number of them. I’m a writer (published since 1977), and I’ve worked as a technical writer, editor, voice actor (for English-language dubs of Japanese anime), office temp, performer of comedic improvisation, writer and producer of a web comic (ongoing), and I was once paid five dollars for being entertaining in a men’s room (you’ll have to wait for a later entry to hear about that one). I received my PhD in Liberal Arts in 2016, honoring my nearly 40 years of published writing, from an institution that was accredited when the degree was bestowed but is no longer. As the Prophet Vonnegut tells us, “So it goes.” Politically, I’m a progressive Democratic Socialist, which I became because of my fact-checking. I am officially a single gay male, although I have several much-beloved men in my life who I truly adore; if they are willing, I’ll tell more of them. I’m also a proud furry, which refers to my love of anthropomorphic animals, not of bestiality. You’ll discover that I pick nits, draw boundaries, and defend the downtrodden, ranging from my brother wolves in the wild to the Oxford comma.

This blog will be about any number of things, including various rants which I hope to keep entertaining and tongue-in-cheek rather than in-your-face. I will include reminiscences, philosophical wrestling, the setting straight of a few records (when necessary), and the occasional terrible pun, because I’m an unrepentant paronomasiac (and wordsmythe, as you can see). You might even get some comments about books, movies, shows, music, and more, although I have a different website for that. (You’ll get those details in due time.)

Tumblr is home to miscellany, and that’s why these rambles and observations will be posted here. My hope is that, through all of this madness, you’ll find some heart, some laughs, some ideas, and perhaps some things that will make your life better in some small way. In my view, that’s what I’m here for. So jump in, fellow traveler. It’s a helluva ride.