#my opinions on deans sexuality vary on how much i like him at any given moment Tbh

[loveinourowngrave]

“dean winchester is straight,” i say, despite being a wincestie. “he just views his brother as a woman.” the audience look at me in horror. except for one man in the back who rises to clap for me. and that man…. is sam winchester herself

[kintsugi-sheep]

Orchard, 21.03.21: Vitamin Z

Vitamin Z

This week I was reminded of why I started this course of changes. I don’t know how appropriate it is to refer to someone as your muse today, but I knew regardless. It’s like an adrenaline shot to the heart, one of those cinematic, dramatic ones that snaps you out of the in-and-out, humdrum, mundane world around you and pulls you, heart-first, back into why you started what you were doing.

I probably won’t meet her again. I’m sure that ship is at a nicer dock perched on a virtuous coastline and carved out of six-pack abs. But, I’m grateful.

It’s easy to find the flaws in someone who rejected you. In her case, I couldn’t find any. She was just right to turn me down.

I missed her. I miss her. But there’s wonderful women everywhere. And I’ll take to heart the changes I need to make so that I don’t miss the next her that crosses my path.

 Budget

In the spirit of that, I sat down to figure out my budget for the next year. And it’s looking surprisingly optimistic.

My goal is to move up to Syracuse. With my financials figured out, I just need to not lose my job and I should be able to make it my next June.

Needless to say, I was happy to learn that.

 Facebook Writers

What I wasn’t so happy about is the series of Facebook groups I’ve joined. As you can tell, writing personal things isn’t really my strong suit. Certainly not in situations like this, where I’m making myself do it. But, considering that I am one writer out of hundreds of millions in the world, I imagined it be nice to acquaint myself with some people. Marketing for writers isn’t easy, after all. Especially when you’re not named.

But the communities are all pretty…vitriolic.

A man asked which of two covers worked better for his book. Being a group of writers, he received dozens of detailed responses. Answers wherein the speaker was more interested in showing off their understanding of literary and publishing nuances than actually answering the questions.

My response: “Number 1.”

A woman made a detailed list of the stereotypes applied when male writers write sexually active males against how they write sexually active females. Of course, the problem was these were stereotypes in writing. “Men who sleep around are great! But women who sleep around are sluts!” “Men who aren’t interested in sex are focused, driven by success in life! Women who aren’t interested in sex are lesbians!”

She applied this long list of writing faux pas on the shoulders of male writers. And this led to more arguing.

People post clips of their book as they’re writing it. A commenter tells them to use more commas and write shorter sentences. A poster volunteers themselves to give out their opinion, making sure to note that they’ve run a blog for the last ten years, so you know their word has value.

A Facebook certified “Conversation Starter” describes The Face by Dean Koontz as “tiresome, tedious, ostentatious” with “florid prose and so many extended metaphors”. This followed by a flood of comments about how much Dean Koontz sucks and questions of how he got so popular.

I’ve never read Dean Koontz, but I’ve heard of him. I don’t recognize any of these people by face or name.

Crabs in a barrel. There’s no success too small for these people to put down. There’s no templar too noble for them to not shit on. There’s a million complex, pretentious, “it depends”, pseudointellectual answers to simple questions like, “Does the blue cover or black cover look better?”

I’m happy I didn’t go to college to write. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to some out this exhausting.

It feels like people don’t understand that there’s success to be had for everybody when it comes to writing. There’s not always fame and critical success. Or an interview tour or a movie deal. Or a place in a high school text book or pop mythology. Or billions of dollars in the bank and vacations to hunt sharks with a shotgun.

But success is available to everyone. Appearance may vary.

I don’t know if I’ll stay in these groups. Or if a non-collegiate writer like me would be expunged. But I take peace in the knowledge that if I ever want to know what type of writer I don’t want to be I can just open up Facebook, click on the group, scroll half a page down, and find some example of how not to pursue this career.

 In the Name of Love for Shaman King

I should also make it clear that I’m going to forego the Shaman King breakdown I intended to write. I have enough distractions from what it is I need to do.

I’m disappointed twice over. First, I don’t have the ability to pick up a new discipline and edit a video together. Maybe if I were more patient or observant, but I’m just not there yet. Secondly, I let the new viewers, the ones who get legitimately excited to experience something I used to love, who craft theories and breakdown themes, get to me.

My love of Shaman King inspired me as an artist and a writer. And while I put down my colored pencils nearly a decade ago now, I still write. And I still carry those themes of spirituality and optimism into the stories I craft.

And that’s the best way for me to present my love. Through my actual work. Through what actually inspires me. Through patience. And not a six-hour list of things I love about the series.

And that wasn’t a jab at legitimate reviewers. That was the plan.

 Mom

Also, I was given a mattress by my mom this week.

Family’s a weird point for me. I don’t know if I’m ready to get into that, but I feel that I need to do a better job as someone who owes his existence to other people. I forgot who it was, but someone once said that there are two types of parents. You can be a role model or you can be a cautionary tale.

 Coworkers

I’m in a good place with my coworkers, too.

The front-of-house is mostly college-aged—closer to my age than most of back-of-house—and their optimistic look on life keeps me grounded in positivity as well.

I didn’t work in too many kitchens after culinary school, but they could definitely get rough. It’s nice to be able to enjoy your work.

 Commitment to Making Flash Fiction as Flash Fiction

I needed to reassure myself in my commitment to writing flash fiction.

I made an assurance to edit one of the stories when I posted it to Reddit a few days ago. It didn’t take me long to realize I shouldn’t have done that. Flash fiction is the nice decompressing poop that you take in the morning before you begin the stuff you legitimately work on. And if it’s nice enough you may even be compelled to mold that poop into a decent short.

I got myself caught up. I was afraid that, having posted many of these low-quality poops online, people would begin to judge me as nothing more than a poop writer. And when it came time to actually try to get people to read my web serial, they’d be like, “I don’t care if it’s free. You’re a poop writer. I can’t waste my time with you.”

Yahtzee Croshaw does a series called “Dev Diary” on YouTube, where he breaks down the process of making indie video games. In one of them he talked about how perfectionism sinks in. How it’s tempting to keep your work to yourself, to keep it from being judged so that others may not, by extension, judge you. He said he had to remember that he was not his work.

And I suppose I have to do the same. I’m not a hobbyist with a single story that I’m convinced will put my name on the map. I’m a writer with dozens of different ideas and could get excited about a dozen new ones in the next week.

Boxing matches are won by throwing many small punches, not throwing one with all of your bodyweight and hoping it’s a hit.

 A Non-Racist Uber Driver

I had a race-related discussion with an Uber driver.

It was nice.

 Pre-College Memories

I reflected on my lackadaisical approach when it came to applying for college. I was short tempered and impatient and ignorant.

It’s thanks to Vitamin Z that I realized I don’t have to actually go back to school to do what I need to do.

But the effort I need to put forward will be monumental nonetheless.

I told you I’d come back more positive.