It’s a strange day. It’s been bad. It’s been relieving. It’s a weight off my back, and it’s not at all fun. So I’m in the mood to talk about writing, for once. I never know what to tell other people who say I motivated them to start writing.
I will never, ever (as of writing this if, if I get older, don’t correct me, you older, annoying self), be the writer who can inspire and give other writers tips.
I am always the child who picked up the first books that pulled me into their worlds until I could see and hear everything. The books that taught me how to imagine things. I am always in the shadow of authors like Tamora Pierce or Terry Pratchett, staring up at their incomprehensible, wondrous mountains of fantasy and longing to climb up there and find something.
So let me talk about writing. There are two things I’m going to recommend to you. It will miss 99% of the people who even read these blogs. But someone might get it.
#1. Aimee Carty’s songs, ‘2 days into college’ and ‘Baker’.
Sometimes, I watch YouTube Shorts. The few that didn’t waste my time were Firefire Department Chronicles because it’s actually probably useful for me about medical issues and it’s funny (and horrific). A guy who goes around inspecting homes, @cyfyhomeinspections, which I like because someone has to do it, and a YouTube short of ‘2 days into college’.
I love animations, and this is a song. It’s a great song. Go watch the animation; it is a seamless complement to the music itself. I realized, at some point, that I was subscribed to the very talented animator, but NOT the songwriter herself.
So I went and subbed to her YouTube channel, and lo and behold, there’s this new video. Seven days ago as of writing. Normally, I don’t expect any artist to write multiple songs I like. I’m not an album person, and this one was titled ‘Baker’. But I thought I’d give it a shot since it’s an animated video.
I don’t love this video and song. It doesn’t make me happy. It doesn’t make me sad, either. It doesn’t give me that much nostalgia.
It’s one of the best songs I’ve ever heard. I get it.
I thought I could be a writer. I wrote my own book when I was in sophomore year of High School. It sucked, and no one would tell me straight up. It took me a while to realize it, and I was so disappointed I didn’t write for four years.
I began again. Then I got discouraged. I tried again. Gave it up. Decided to write a book. And it wasn’t that good. It was about a character named Pirate. I wanted to make a video game about her.
I never did. The book sold nine copies. All the ideas I have had never turned into anything, at this point. And that’s like most of everyone; famous people have a few ideas that are something. I got sad just out of college.
And then I started a story called The Wandering Inn.
Once upon a time, I was a writer. And I realized I wasn’t that good. I do wish I could go back to the times when I was all kinds of things and the best at everything. If I was ever that young, it’d be nice.
But then I wrote a story people really liked. I’m not that good at writing, and people tell me I’m great at writing. They say no one can write this much and that I have as much talent as the most famous writers.
I never believe them. I think, sometimes, I’ll wake up and this splendid dream will end, and I’ll finally have to prove it can come true. I have an amazing ability to disassociate from compliments and criticism, like most people in this kind of job. I look at bank statements and I don’t understand the numbers on purpose. That might be good or bad.
I look at negative comments and ones full of praise and I worry each chapter’s not good enough. I think I can do better, because I don’t believe I’m a writer. It’s probably unhealthy. I’ve given a lot of my life to the story, to the exclusion of being able to do anything else. I don’t know if it reads like a complaint, but I’ll keep doing it, because. It’s a privilege and an honor and a challenge, and if you don’t try your hardest, it will be that much less. And I am no Writer.
That is, to me, the kind of thing I never mention because it’s so universal to me and it doesn’t matter. I don’t know how sympathy would help, and I don’t want to concern people. Writers should write. So here’s what makes me happy.
This song. I lied; I think it makes me happy to hear someone put words to an experience. It makes me feel Human. And this—
#2. Dumbing of Age, the webcomic.
I saw it three times over my life, and each time, I think I stared at the first few strips and wrote it off because it’s a story about college. That’s not interesting, seeing someone move into a college dorm.
The last time I tried it, a month or two ago, someone I trust recommended it to me, and I gave it a shot. And it didn’t really hook me at first, but this time, I kept reading and kept reading…and there are webcomics I love that are long, unfinished, among the best stories in the world.
Girl Genius, Order of the Stick, The Property of Hate…Dumbing of Age…
It is one of the longest webcomics I’ve ever read. I realized it updates at a prodigious rate—and more—it began in 2010. I spent day after day, during my break, reading into the morning and unable to stop. That kind of feeling.
The person who recommended it to me, described it much like The Wandering Inn in several ways, including the protagonist. It’s not a perfect one-to-one, of course, but I get it. It has one of the closest characters to Erin, in a way, and I swear, I never knew this character existed when I began The Wandering Inn.
But Dumbing of Age is like The Wandering Inn; I have often heard Volume 1 is the hardest to get into because it’s slow. Then the story grips you. The same experience is present here. I think the slow start to the story is sometimes necessary, but I digress; this story has a lot of slice of life. It has dark moments that are horrifically painful to read through at times, and good moments to balance those dark ones.
When I was reading, I had a thought. ‘Is this what it feels like to read The Wandering Inn?’ If so, how horrible.
The story needs it. That’s why I kept reading. I can see the art getting better, I believe the characters exist and are real, and it is now bookmarked and I check it almost every day. It matters to me, and I tell you this not just because it’s something I’d rec; it’s an explanation.
In the process of discussing the webcomic, I began to talk to other people, and I learned this is a comic by a well-established artist, David M. Willis. Not only has he been doing it since 2010, for fourteen years, he updates every single day of the week.
For clarity, if you didn’t know it, webcomics update at three days per week on the fast track, normally. This one is daily. And it has been going for fourteen years.
Does this sound familiar? I wrote an essay about what it was like to be a writer, once. Sailing a ship into uncharted waters where few people have ever been before, because few people have written stories this long. Some died; some are in languages I can’t read.
The Wheel of Time. Devta. One Piece. Detective Conan…Berserk…
There are not many stories. I don’t know if there are any longer web serials in the English language.
—I can see a ship ahead of me going strong. And it’s going farther than I can guess. It’s been fourteen years, and it’s getting better. It began before me. The creator is working as hard as me, if not harder.
It’s like listening to ‘Baker’. I felt a connection, rightly or wrongly, with the creator based on just that. I wanted to write a scene between Joyce and Erin, as if they ever had a chance to meet. I haven’t wanted to write fanfiction for a long while.
I have a tremendous respect for Dumbing of Age on all levels. And I would love to someday talk to the creator. He and I are very much the same…
…Except that I learned he had a backlog of months. He is, in fact, as much as a year ahead of the currently published strip.
So I denounce him and state that he and I have nothing in common because if I ever managed to get more than a few chapters ahead, I’d lose that backlog in a heartbeat. He’s some kind of freakish monster of creation, and I resent his strategical preparations immensely.
…Anyways, that’s my blog. I’ve had a day that was worse than most, and I am tired.
I am still tired despite my new schedule. It’s definitely for the better.
I still feel like the old pirateaba was better than me. I still feel like I can’t write anything close to what the story deserves.
And I think I might be about to write an arc that will be as magical as any of Erin’s fires, or terrible. I am writing chapters, short, and there’s a bit of magic I’m chasing. If I catch it, I’ll be so happy. Until the next chapter, and I’ll be hunting in the grime and muck of that other metaphor for writing, hoping to pull a glowing shard of inspiration and hold it high up.
What I’m trying to say is, I like writing. That’s what it’s like, to me. Go give that Aimee Carty and webcomic lots of love. If you are like me, it will consume a piece of you, hopefully forever.
Now, wish me luck, for tomorrow, I’ll post the first of many chapters. And continue onwards. I have always been ambitious. I always thought I could be the greatest baker.
—pirateaba
