#lauren makes things

[thelaurenshippen]

*popping out of a dark alley and hissing* you lookin' for slow burn? I got your slow burn right here-

*I open my coat to reveal a once-a-year podcast telling the story of a slow burn rivals-lovers over 10 real life human years* I'm talkin' sloooow burn, real linklater shit, gonna drive you crazy

[thelaurenshippen]

this is SUCH a good point. I remember seeing the movie Once in theaters as a teenager (a great movie if you've never seen it) and once they've finished recording their album, they get into a car to listen it on their shitty car speakers. that's stuck with me ever since and the first thing I did after finishing the first episode of The Bright Sessions, was load it onto my iPod (lol) and play it in my car.

even now, I still do five tests for all my pilot episodes (and then varying tests throughout a season depending on the episode): my own personal headphones, my laptop speaker, plug-in earbuds, bluetooth earbuds, and my car. I haven't made a habit of listening in busy areas, but that's a great idea!

A recommendation to all the audio drama creators out there:

Always listen to your show in the way your audience is listening to your show.

We tend to edit using nice gear. Good over-the-ear headphones. Quiet rooms. But most of your audience will not listen to your show this way. A recent poll indicated that almost 20% of AD listeners listen with a *single* earbud in. Almost 10% listen on their phone speaker. That's a significant part of your audience that is listening in a mono environment or with tiny speakers (or both). You also likely have listeners with hearing loss in one of their ears*, and you want your show to be accessible to them. Before you release your show, make sure to listen to it at least once on a single earbud in a noisy environment. Is your show still legible this way? Can a listener still enjoy it like this, and understand all the plot beats and character moments? If not, it's a good idea to spend some more time on your edit so that they can. (And it's still definitely OK to make your show sound *great* for those who have a great audio setup! Just make sure the show still works for those who don't.) *You likely also have audience members with hearing loss in *both* ears. Transcripts are important. I'm behind in getting them posted for Metropolis, I need to get on that. (Episode 3 of Metropolis is live, BTW. Just waiting for Spotify to pick up the RSS feed before the big announcement. 😅)

[man-down-in-hatchet-town]

This is a Jon Matteson appreciation post. From Paul to Wiggly to Boy Jerry to Richie to everyone in between, his range and specificity are incredible. His work is so lived-in and nuanced without losing any of the zany humor at the core of Starkid. I always love watching him and I can't wait to see what he does in the future.

[mechadria]

im honestly still just as wary about the next season of the witcher even after the table read -

because it was never about liam's acting skills.

do i think henry cavill was a spectacular match for geralt?

yeah. but not only because of his looks or his acting: he GOT geralt and the witcher in general. he's a massive nerd who knows the franchise like he wrote it himself and was a big reason (not the sole, but a big one) that the show kept on track and was even somewhat faithful to the original material.

but i don't believe cavill did a regé jean-page and like. left to seek stardom or whatever. this was a passion project too for him, you could tell.

no, I'm wary of the future of witcher because of the higher ups involved.

so what DID the people who disagreed so hard with him he quit the project do? well, they needed a 7000 word letter from joey batey and the fanbase pleading just to allow jaskier to be queer like he (pretty much) canonically is. didn't need incentive from anyone to create fake gay motives for the worse villain of the story, though. didn't need incentive to completely ruin one of the most beloved characters of the franchise, or let his actor get harassed on socials after the swap without ever saying shit.

i do not trust that these people, who have proven callous, arrogant and ignorant about both the source material and the opinions of the fanbase (and have made some choices nearing bigotry) and who disagreed so heavily with the actor who knew the source material best are capable of producing a good season 4. liam or no liam. am i hoping he's a good geralt? yes, the series and other actors don't deserve to have their performance harmed by him. can it be as good as the seasons cavill was in? for the reasons cited above: fuck no.

[thelaurenshippen]

oooh interesting question! thanks for tagging me @holliwoobz!

I have complicated feelings about the word "creator", but I have complicated feelings about nearly every term used to refer to what I do, so it's no better or worse for me than any other. this question could just as easily have the word "artist" or "writer" or "podcaster" and I think my response would be equally ambivalent. in any case, I'm not sure that I have a strong definition for feeling like a creator - on the one hand, I felt like a creator the moment I put pen to paper and wrote my first story and on the other hand, I still don't feel like a creator at all, because I don't feel fully successful as one. I make my living from a patchwork of things, and creating is, in many ways, the smallest contributor to that patchwork.

but there are a few moments that stick out to me in the "oh shit I'm really doing this" feeling -

the table read for @thebrightsessions - hearing Julia, Briggon, and Anna give voice to these characters that had been only in my head was deeply surreal and rewarding

seeing fanart for the very first time. I remember it SO vividly. it was on instagram, in march of 2016, pretty much just after our second season began. it was a few doodles of chloe and I remember thinking "if this is it, if this show completely falls apart tomorrow, I'll be satisfied, because someone felt moved enough by it to make their own art"

recording the season 3 finale of TBS, the safe house episodes. those were the first episodes we ever recorded in a studio, not my bedroom (the only other episode we recorded in a studio in the first 4 seasons of TBS was the musical) and it was a full, 8 hour recording day, with pretty much the whole cast at, like, a real, fancy-ass studio that I dipped into my measly savings to cover and I sat in the parking lot for a full hour because I woke up at 6am and by 7:30 I just had to get out of the fucking house even if the session didn't start until 9. I had not one single goddamn clue of what I was doing, had never directed anything in a studio, had never tried to block anything before and, sure, we'd rehearsed, but I felt entirely unprepared. and then, you know, not the most emotionally chill episodes ever, so by the end of it, I was wrung out. but I got back into my car that evening and thought about how ten hours earlier I'd had to stare at the steering wheel and concentrate on not throwing up and now I was driving home having done it and done it well and maybe I really could make something of myself in this medium

and even now, having written hundreds of episodes of audio drama, directed even more than that, having worked with big companies and produced indie shows from other creators, having been hired to consult as an "expert", invited to speak at conferences and to college classes, I still sort of feel like I'm going to throw up every time I'm about to walk into that studio. I constantly have that feeling of "well, I made something that some people like, but that was a fluke, I'm not really a writer".

part of this is, of course, just your garden variety imposter syndrome that I'm not sure any of us ever truly get rid of. but the other big piece, the lesson I learned a few years into making shit and having it go somewhere, is that you never really arrive. you're never done, you've never made it. I long for the day that I'll be able to just write and make things and have that be enough to pay for my life and, god forbid, actually contribute to my retirement account, but I know that that level of stability won't necessarily mean I finally feel like a creator, like that's my job, like that's who I am, and like that's enough. but every day I do create, and that's the important part. so that's the feeling I try to focus on.

Audio drama creators: what moment made you feel like you were *actually* a creator?

[salembehindbars]

JFK Jr. Is quite literally my dream man. I have loved him since I was 5.

[misfitmiska]

Sorry for the inactivity but Merited Partiality by @clear-as-starlight has me on a CHOKEHOLD yet again. I’ve known for a while that I wanted to draw something based on the mesmerising battle scenes but I don’t have much experience drawing comics OR action scenes OR horses OR 18th century weapons so getting this done was a JOURNEY lkjhghhgfgh— but that is how you learn, by being overly ambitious and starting out mediocre! ^^

This one is loosely based on chapter 5 but I reworked some stuff so it was feasible with my current skill level. :p

[thelaurenshippen]

it's officially been 10 years since I sent @thebrightsessions pilot to my friend Jack to get his thoughts. he was the first person to read it, and gave me great thoughts, and I made the pilot better and then...

well. it was almost exactly a year before I sent this message:

all to say: however long it takes, however uncertain you feel—surround yourself with amazing, kind, talented people and just go for it. the worst that can happen is that you learn something. the best is that you learn something and it gives you your life, which is what happened to me.

it’s said so much that it sounds trite but it really is true: do it scared

[thelaurenshippen]

hey, so, uh, I have a new show and it comes out every single weekday because I miss releasing stuff with any degree of frequency and I may have over-corrected.

this show - about a woman in the 1970s driving through an empty and post-apocalyptic America trying to find anyone to talk to - is an experiment through and through. I wanted to write something I could do every part of and something that I'd be building as I went. a little bit like how I made the The Bright Sessions (though of course, I got to lean on my amazing actors - and eventually my sound designer - throughout). every weekday, an episode between 1 and 5 minutes drops and I'm going to do it for...well, for as long as I can come up with story.

it's the most unpolished/spontaneous project I've ever done. I'm not heavily editing the scripts. I don't have an outline. I don't do endless takes of my performance. I'm recording on an actual CB radio. I'm writing about 2,000 words every week and recording every week and it's SO nice to have a consistent practice!

I have no idea what this show is going to turn into or how long it will go. but I highly encourage every artist out there to try making something you're not precious about! it's so easy for us to get stuck in the habit of only wanting to release stuff when it's done and perfect and everything we want it to be. sometimes it's great to just stretch our proverbial legs.

anyway. I hope you enjoy it! it's been really satisfying to put whatever I'm feeling on a given week into an abstracted character, a weird fictional journal of sorts. it feels good to have somewhere to put my existential dread, hopes, and fears, and I hope you find some relatability in it!

001 - ONE

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey.

Transcript under the cut.

Breaker, breaker, Channel 19, is anyone reading? [click, static] This is…uh- sh--

[click, static]

Whiskey…Alpha Romeo- this is Whiskey Alpha Romeo, calling out. 

[click, static]

Once again, that’s Whiskey Alpha Romeo, currently along I-80. 

[click, static] Breaker, breaker. [click, static]

You know, I just realized how bad those initials are, but that’s the rule right? W for east of the Mississippi, which–isn’t that a bit backward? Shouldn’t it be W for West? Anyway, W for east of the Mississippi plus the initials of your name– but I mean, still, WAR is a bit…Whiskey, I guess is okay. Though that’d be the part of the call sign that everybody in this area has, so…not really specific. 

Then again, it doesn’t seem like anyone is here – no other W-call signs to mix me up with. So if you are listening somehow, Whiskey is…fine. 

I don’t have a number? I don’t technically have any kind of license either, but who would be giving them out, right? I mean, in that case, I guess trying to stick to any kind of convention is sort of pointless at this juncture, so I could’ve picked any old name… 

But, I mean, we all have to hold on to whatever bit of structure we can to stay sane, right?

And I don’t know, I have the pamphlet for this thing and it feels like I should follow it to the letter. 

You know, this thing has been sitting in our garage for five years and this is the first time we’ve sent a signal out? I mean, we’re remote, yeah, but that doesn’t mean we couldn’t’ve–

[click, static]

Sorry, not we. The first time I’ve sent a signal out, though Lord knows she never did either. And never will, I mean, I doubt she’ll even notice this is gone, I doubt she’ll miss it, I doubt she’ll miss–

[click, static]

Anyway, here I am, clogging up the airwaves. I think that’s bad etiquette. But if no one is listening, there’s no one to offend. 

[click, static]

Yeah. Well, like I said. Whiskey Alpha Romeo along I-80–I’ll stay on this frequency for the rest of the day. Um…signing off. 

[hipsternumbertwo]

Cinderella's Castle Cast Reveal (Part 2) [Part 1] [Kickstarter]

[kismetconstellations]

Imagine wanting to kill this man with such intensity, you were willing to send your entire eight season series into a prolonged nosedive before it inevitably crashed and burned as a result of your hubris.

[thelaurenshippen]

#CATCH ME SCREAMING#WHAT DO YOU MEAN ITS ALL CROSSED OUT#hes having *feelings*#frick me this show is so cool with even just the little bits we have#also with fogg being hurt??? and him just trying to brush it off????#theres SO MUCH fic material in here via @fandomscraziness22

I LOVE THESE TAGS A LOT and also if you are interested in reading what was crossed out, I did share it in our pals discord :)

May 30th, 1919

Somehow, I have found myself a fifty-five year old man. While I have had either the good fortune or the misfortune (all these years on and I’m still uncertain which it is) to avoid the ravages of age, my mind is that of a person who has been on this earth for five decades and seen a nearly world-ending war. One would think that these experiences would bring wisdom with them, but that remains to be seen. All I know I’ve gained is a kind of weariness that reminds me of being a boy, but now without any of those hardships.

To think of that boy now brings no small amount of relief, a bit of awe, and a certain measure of grief. My life is inarguably better than it was and yet, I have no sense of who I am really am. Perhaps it is the lack of possibility—when you are a young, the future stretches before you like an endless road. And then, over the years, you get set in your ways, your thinking, your very being. You become limited by your own experiences, perspectives, and, for most, your physical form.

I see it in my colleagues—those I still correspond with, too worried about the consequences of seeing any of them in person. They write of how they wish they could go adventuring as they always have but their heart or their bad leg won’t let them. Even John has sometimes spoken of how his leg and hip bother him, slow him down, though he talks of it as a mere inconvenience and nothing more. I try to be compassionate and understanding in my responses, though I always have to take special care writing him back on the subject, for every time I think of him immediately coming into mortal danger when arriving at the front, a kind of furious anger fills me, the likes of which I have not felt before. It embarrasses me, to still be so easily riled by the events of a war already being written about in history books, but everything with John always did provoke me faster than anything else.

I have yet to see him in person—travel still limited in the way that it is—but I fear he will try to hide from me the more serious ways in which his injuries affect him. He certainly went through a considerable amount of effort to hide the incident from me in the first place, always skating past my questions in his letters and having me write, not to the infirmary, but the neighboring town. In any event, the burns did not seem to slow him down too much during the war, considering he was right back out there far sooner than I would have preferred. I suppose I should just be grateful we’re both alive—I am grateful, deeply. But it irks me to think of him in pain or distress.

But all of that is old news at this point—I fear that he and I will discuss matters ad nauseam if we both refuse to move on. Neither one of us is very good at backing down from a fight.

Perhaps I am fixating on others’ troubles because I have so few of my own. I am certainly not resource limited. Especially since I began playing my luck on the stock market, the wealth that I have is practically unthinkable. It certainly would have been beyond the imagination of the boy who hawked newspapers on street corners to support his mother.

What would he think of me now? He would be glad, I think, to be out of the grips of poverty and equally astounded at that fact. But would he be disappointed in my fairly sedate life? Would he be horrified at my loneliness?

For all their struggles—learning a new language in adulthood, being so far from their homeland, even if there was nothing left for them in Ireland—for all the ways in which my parents were impoverished, they were never poor in company. Two people so in love they crossed the ocean with only the other to talk to; who had a child to enrich their life, not fill it; who made a warm and loving home out of a one-room tenement in the middle of a strange nation—these were not people who were lonely. It hurts to think of how they would have grown together as they aged, of the way their love would have deepened if father had never died. Perhaps mother would have been more inclined to travel, less afraid to stray too far from her husband’s grave for too long. Maybe her vibrancy and sharp mind would not have withered on the vine, the way I’ve no doubt father’s would have if she had been the one to an early grave. I never would have been company enough for either of them. No child could have filled that hole of grief.

Which is why I can never take a wife, nor have a child. It pains me—a sword in the soft spot of my chest—but there is nothing for it. Despite the fact that I’m sure I could find one—while I may not be much to look at, especially off stage, I am rich and, as far as anyone knows, of good stock and name. The myth of Charles Chambers has become so complete that no one remembers he appeared from thin air like one of his illusions. Charlie Coughlin, for them, was never alive.

So, yes, I could get a wife with ease—one who would, no doubt, be beautiful and clever and eager to start a family. Perhaps I could even contrive some kind of disguise to age with her, tell the children the truth when they are older. But I would have to watch them march off to the afterlife as well, and I’m not sure I could bear it. I’m not sure I could bear getting married—even without children—only to have to do it all over again with the same lies and secrets. When I fall in love—if I fell in love—I suspect it would be forever.

I have yet to discuss these matters with the one other person who understands, but how am I meant to write to John and ask his intentions toward marriage? I’m sure if he has eyes on someone, he’ll tell me when he means to propose. Or perhaps I will read about it in the papers like everyone else.

I know it is improper—immoral even, in some eyes—to think of such things, but even as a young man I thought that John was a striking—[the rest of the paragraph is crossed out so completely as to be unreadable]

It is best not to put it to paper, even here in the privacy of my diary. There is no point to such stray fantasies thoughts anyway.

I have forgotten father’s face. I had a photograph taken of mother and I before she passed but I can no longer conjure the feeling of her hand in mine nor the sound of her voice. Every friend or colleague I’ve ever known will someday fade from memory, or has already, vanishing like morning mist in the heat of the day.

Now, the face I see most clearly when I close my eyes is John’s. And his face, like my own, is ever unchanging.

[from the personal diary of C.X. Chambers]

[listen to New Year’s Day wherever you get your podcasts. to read the pre-1917 entries, join atypical artists and get access to the archive of 24 entries (5,000+ words), as well as ad-free episodes. to receive future monthly missives straight to your inbox, sign up for free here]

[boygerbishart]

im not immune to .desert bluff.

[novelconcepts]

Can I offer some Taivan portraits in these trying times?

[ang331]

[thelaurenshippen]

[Text ID: a screenshot from episode 41 of @breakerwhiskey that reads "It’s strange, you know? Seeing something treated with such care. I don’t know much about dogs, but it seemed…happy. Even though it was all by itself, god knows how far away from its home or the person who’s looking after it, it looked happy.

I guess that’s what being cared for does. It makes it so that even the loneliest parts of life seem surmountable. When you’re accustomed to the feel of a warm hand, the night chill doesn’t seem so bad. When you’ve got someone to brush you down each night, or clean your collar, it doesn’t matter that you’re getting your feet dirty on a dusty road."

a screenshot from episode 138 of Breaker Whiskey that reads: "I’ve been thinking a lot about the dog, about what I said after I’d seen it. That I wanted to be taken care of like that dog. That I was jealous of it. And the more I think about it, the more I’ve reflected on the last six years, on what they were like, on what they weren’t and on what I know now that I didn’t know for most of those years…

Were you keeping me like a loyal dog, Harry? Giving me just enough affection and positive reinforcement to keep me from biting your hand? Making sure that my kennel was comfortable so that I didn’t try to leave it, but never giving me too much because, after all, I’m just something to share space with, to bark at the door when there’s danger.

It isn’t even like I was some kind of lapdog, a pet that got nothing but love and gave nothing in return, but there’s an…obedience, that you brought out in me that I hate. Even in all our disagreements, in all my frustrations with you, I still always listened to you.

Because there was always hope. There was always the possibility of something and I know you said that you never could—

[click, static]

You knew. You knew that possibility was keeping me at heel. And I’ve been so useful to you. Let’s be honest with ourselves, Harry, for once—you would have died years ago without me. Sure, you’re sufficient now, I don’t think I could have left if—

[click, static]

You’ve learned. You’ve become more capable over the years. But at first? I did everything. I kept us alive. I kept us safe. I got us out of that prison transport in the first place. And you knew that you needed me. So you took care of me in turn, just enough to make sure I’d stick by you. Even when you also knew that you’d already—

[click, static]

a screenshot from episode 142 of Breaker Whiskey that reads: "Me. Want me to do with it. Not us. Because she’s not here. Because she didn’t trust me enough to come with me, didn’t trust me to keep her safe, didn’t trust that this journey would be worth taking."

END ID]

sooooo normal about this btw