I’ve been asked by a number of authors lately to give my thoughts and share my experience as someone who has used the Patreon platform, and in the interest of both giving that reply and helping anyone else who might be curious, I’m going to answer those questions here on this blog.
I began my own Patreon in a typical Heidi fashion: on a passion-fueled whim. It was August 28, 2015, and some Serious Shit™ had gone down in my life. Some bad, some good, but the bottom line is that big changes came with financial price tags, and I couldn’t figure out how to finagle things to account for that. Add to that I’d started to go indie on some of my backlist titles and was thinking about starting some of my new work as indie as well. Then I read Amanda Palmer’s Patreon pitch, got caught up, and jumped in. This was the post I wrote about how she moved me, where in the end I spontaneously started a Patreon. It was later in the evening, and I went to bed on a rosy glow of Amanda-fueled feeling.
The next morning I woke much more sober and went downstairs prepared to delete the Patreon and write a “hey, JK” post because I felt foolish for being so overexcited. I worried I’d let myself be too carried away and wanted to undo my exuberance. Except when I went to the Patreon site, readers had already joined. Lots of them. Not an army or anything, but several people. Enough that now I was stunned out of my shame and sat there long enough that even more people joined, to the point that I had a real Patreon and now here I am, sixteen months later, not only still using the site but considering it an integral part of my publishing experience.
I started my Patreon for a specific reason, but it quickly became something greater and more complex than anything I could have ever predicted. The money is of course what draws artists to the platform, and it’s a huge perk. In the sixteen months since I started my Patreon, my income from publishing houses and vendors I deal with as an independent author has come with all manner of headaches at different times, some which have been heartbreaking and intensely stressful, some simply infuriating—but every month that Patreon income simply arrives as the stable paycheck we can count on. It’s not a ton, but it helps. In good times it simply shaves off the overhead of indie book production, but in rough seas it can be what saves our bacon. Multiple, multiple times my husband has threatened to write the Patreons a fan letter. Because there was a span of months where the stress of publishing chaos, my health, and general whatnot meant my production was low and therefore sales were grim all around, and of course that’s when everything happened in our lives and the teenagers needed All The Things, Right Now, and we were sweating and panicking but every month there would come that solid, stable slam of money. My husband loves the patrons almost as much as I do.
Most of the time, however, the money is only a perk for me. Don’t get me wrong, I value (and utilize) every dollar, but the interaction and the connection is a bigger deal for me. Even when I’m not able to post as much, simply having the Patreon space is huge. I’ve crowdsourced both the entire patron hive mind and sections of it for help with projects (they’re giving me feedback right now, in fact, on something about my WIP), vented my frustration with minor things in general about writing or the process, kept them abreast of what’s going on without broadcasting it to the whole Internet.
Sometimes though simply knowing they’re there is huge for me. I don’t know why Patreon feels different than social media. I think it’s the idea of skin in the game. Or maybe it’s because of how I stumbled into this, because I let myself slip into asking. All I know is that for me, the connection of serving my patrons is magical. It frees me in a way I never knew it would. I don’t think it would work that way for every author, and in fact I think it could cripple many, that mental framework. For me, it’s so perfect. Every month I look at my patrons and think, “How am I serving you? What do I need to give you?” It’s never a burden, and in fact it centers and sometimes heals chaos in me to focus that way. It’s a kind of meditation for me.
Now, the key here is for me. The reason I’m taking the time to write this very long post and getting so personal about my reply is that my answer whenever someone asks me about Patreon is that I am adamant that each Patreon must be for each author and for each fandom/reader group. I think it’s a good idea for authors interest in Patreon to join the Patreons of other artists at least for a little while to poke around and see what’s up, to look at their rewards and get ideas, but in the end you need to make your own choices and find your own way. You also need to expect to make changes a lot until you find what works.
The one thing I’d say should be universal is that the word patron does mean you’re there to serve the people coming to you, and since there’s an exchange make sure you’re honoring it and being up front and realistic about what you intend that exchange to be. A lot of times people show me their rewards in preview before they go live, and if I ever offer criticism it’s to push them to think about how exactly they’re going to deliver what they’re promising every single month. It gets dicey thinking about how to reward people all the time, and you panic and think of stuff that sounds good in theory until you’re on deadline and suddenly you have to figure out how to run a Skype chat for people who aren’t showing up anyway because nobody wanted that reward except one guy in Cleveland. There’s also the eternal question of do you go monthly or by creation–always a hard call, because it depends on what you’re offering and how you’re setting it up. How often are you putting books/things out? How long are you making new patrons wait to join the fun? Sometimes they can’t see cool posts/get rewards until they’re charged, so if you’re going to go by thing at the very least have them charged as they join (that’s an option) so they can get access right away.
I don’t ever intend my Patreon to replace traditional bookselling. I do offer my books as rewards to my patrons, so technically they take away from sales, but my patrons aren’t even a tenth of my book sales at this point, so they’re a scratch off the sales at best. Plus my patrons are more likely to recommend my books to others, ask for my books to be included in libraries (some of them are librarians and booksellers), and in general help promote my work. Also even the $1 a month patrons are technically giving me more “royalty” per book if I produce my usual books per year if they remain patrons for the full twelve months. Because I do give all my patrons all my books. I have enough higher level patrons they more than subsidize the $1 patrons, which means $1 pledges are a great way for students and fixed-income readers to get all my works, something I’m interested in facilitating.
I also love giving things to my patrons. It’s a hot pleasure of mine. I sometimes find random things in my life or think of books or what have you and think, “the patrons would love this,” and I enjoy offering it to them as a prize they can enter for. I give books of the month, let certain levels see sneak peeks of covers and blurbs and stories… It’s not that I don’t enjoy sharing these things with other readers too, but it is nice to have it contained in a space. I don’t love always that money is the gatekeeper, but it’s a dollar. $12 a year, and people aren’t required to stay a whole year.
Perhaps Patreon won’t always work for me–things change, needs alter. For now, however, Patreon is an integral part of my indie publishing experience, and this is how I utilize it, this is my advice for those thinking of doing the same. There’s nothing wrong with changing your Patreon if it’s not working the way you want, and there’s also nothing wrong with deciding it isn’t right for you and your readers after all.
Here is my Patreon if you’d like to look at it. There are all manner of rewards, and you can see them in the side column. You’re welcome to borrow any of those that might suit you and your readers, or use them to inspire your own ideas. I wish you luck in your Patreon endeavors, and I hope you find your community to be as close and nurturing as mine is to me–or, perhaps I should say I hope your community is whatever you wish it to be for you, and that your readers feel the same way.
Everyone is coming off their Yuri on Ice highs and are thirsty for more great story. If you’re looking for gay romance, well…um, hi there, but also, you know, there’s a bazillion other books and here are some others I’ve read, just a handful. Mostly though people are looking for anime. I’ve joined MyAnimeList and am trying to keep it updated (still thinking of things and adding them), but I’m also going to start rewatching and recapping the shows I really love and posting reviews on that site and my various blogs. It does double-duty as research/background amp for an upcoming work-in-progress of mine, but it’s also my happy place. So with no further ado, let’s dig in.
Tonight I’m starting with Beyond the Boundary, also known as Kyoukai no Kanata. The anime is based on a Japanese novel which has, alas, not been translated into English. I’m learning Japanese, but right now I can almost write out the basic hiragana with a cheat sheet and I can parrot back a few basic phrases and recognize a few in anime—Japanese characters are still almost entirely nothing but scribbles on the page to me, so I won’t be reading any manga or novels anytime soon. The bottom line is BtB isn’t quite like Yuri on Ice in that it was created specifically to be an anime, but it isn’t like Noragami or Haikyu! in that it’s being made into an anime as the manga is still being written.
I’ve already watched BtB all the way through, but it’s been about six months so some of the fine details get fuzzy. I also am absolutely no expert on Japanese culture or Japanese anything, so expect to hear me talk about aspects of what I’m seeing and be bemused by stuff that someone who knows better will pipe in and say, “That’s because X” or “that’s a Y” and this is all fine. I’m here to make all new mistakes in 2017.
This is post is analysis but also recap, so if you don’t want spoilers you should go watch it first and then get back here and read. You can stream it as of this posting on Hulu as well as Crunchyroll.
The first thing you need to know about BtB is that it is beautiful. I recommend it as something to watch post YOI because beauty is one of the things we fell for, and BtB delivers in every episode. The animation is often breathtaking and sometimes heartbreakingly breathtaking. The opening sequence is absolutely stunning, full of pans and sunsets and so much beauty you want to keep watching just to see what else they’re going to deliver if this is how they open the show.
The characters aren’t exactly slouches either. We begin with narration from Akihito Kanbara, who has spied a new female student standing on the ledge of the top of a building, and he assumes she’s ready to jump and commit suicide. He gives us a few thoughts about suicide in general, about what it means to take one’s life, and he remarks, without explanation, that this isn’t something that’s going to be an option for him in this life, so far as he knows. He also points out that he has two choices, to passively watch to see what happens with this girl or to be active and try to stop it, and though he’s normally a passive person he can’t help but rush to the rooftop and try to stop her. He omits part of what he says to her, though he lets us know he complimented how good she looked in glasses as he begged her to reconsider her suicide.
The girl remains still for a moment, then remarks, calmly, “How unpleasant,” backflips over the chain link fence, lands in front of Akihito, forms a sword out of her own blood, and stabs him with it. He cries out, falls, then asks, politely but out of breath, if she could please take the sword out of him for now. “What are you?” she asks, and he points out he should be asking her the same question. And that, he tells us, he how he met Mirai Kuriyama.
It’s a killer opening…and in the grand tradition of Japanese anime, instead of answering all those questions, we now migrate away from any attempt at those and instead go to high school, or university, or whatever kind of school we’re at here. All I know is there are virtually know parents, everyone lives alone in apartments or in big empty houses with older siblings, and they’re pretty much independent, yet they all go to school and despite dealing with paranormal issues on a daily basis, they still have to study for tests and tend to their club activities.
Which is where we open now. Akihito is in the literary club room with Mitsuki, who is one of my favorite secondary characters. She’s sassy, intelligent, and a cool head in a crisis. Also, sexy. In any event, she teases Akihito as they try to select manuscripts, but he’s distracted by noises in the hall, which turn out to be Mirai, who has come for her daily attempt to kill him. He is annoyed by this and attempts to explain to her, again, that he’s immortal and can’t be killed. In their back and forth they give us some grounding backstory we need to understand the story world: Mirai is a Spirit World Warrior, the last of a cursed clan with the rare and despised/feared ability to control their blood and used it as a weapon to kill youmu, which are these kind of demon things which can possess people but mostly run about making a muck of things and need to be killed. Mirai’s job as a Spirit World Warrior is to kill youmu, and she’s supposed to be really good at it.
Akihito isn’t possessed by a youmu as he keeps trying to tell her; he is a youmu, or rather is half youmu, half human, and because of this he’s immortal. It’s not something he chose, but there’s nothing he can do about it, so would she please stop trying to kill him. She nervously, fussing with her glasses (which he finds attractive as he has a serious glasses fetish) says she’s sorry, she must keep attempting to kill him. He stalks off, frustrated, and returns to the club room.
Mitsuki suggests he let Mirai keep trying, but Akihito angrily points out it hurts when she stabs him. When Mitsuki wonders why Mirai is so persistent, Akihito is struck with a wonderful idea, thinking perhaps Mirai is in love with him and that is why she keeps trying to kill him. He’s very pleased by this thought, because he’s all behind being loved by a girl who looks great in any pair of glasses. Mitsuki calmly labels him a deluded pervert, pops her lolly back in her mouth and continues reading a fiction about dismemberment.
Did I mention how much I love Mitsuki?
Then Mitsuki turns serious, suggesting Akihito should avoid any further interactions with Mirai. He’s surprised and asks why. Mitsuki reminds him that her family, the Nase family, are Spirit World Warriors and have jurisdiction over all the other Warriors in their district. She points out a Nase daughter is giving him advice, and if that doesn’t spell things out for him, then he’s stupid. On that note, she leaves.
Akihito, who is apparently stupid, meets up with Mirai, or rather lingers until all the other students are gone so when she tries to kill him there’s no one around. He does attempt to outrun her this time, but she’s pretty spry and after a merry chase they end up having a duel in a classroom which involves her being by terms as intense and clever as a ninja and clumsy as a clown. Their battle is interrupted by an invasion of a full youmu, however, and when it attacks Mirai not only hesitates but trembles, afraid to attack. Another Spirit World Warrior appears and gives chase, but the gig is up now: Akihito realizes that though Mirai has no trouble stabbing him over and over, she’s too scared to actually attack a youmu.
He takes her to dinner to talk things over, and while she eats out half the restaurant (on his dime) she explains she’s never killed a youmu, that she’s been too afraid. She was using him for target practice, basically, and since she realized he couldn’t die it was super handy. He gets angry at this, reminding her that stabbing hurts, and then the waitress reappears with more food for her and he’s even angrier at the idea that she’s bleeding him dry. “Wasn’t that the deal?” she asks. “You feed me in exchange for not trying to kill you?” Then he realized she intends to not try to kill him only for tonight.
He walks her to the train station, still trying to reason with her and point out she could be hunting youmu like a regular Spirit World Warrior, but she will barely talk to him and simply thanks him for dinner before she leaves.
The next day Mitsuki tells Akihito to meet her in the cafeteria for lunch instead of the clubroom, which is odd, but he does it because it’s what he does. She gives him a cryptic message, telling him once again to stay away from Mirai, more forcefully this time. She lets him know the Nase family is keeping an eye on her. But she also acknowledges that despite her warning, he’s probably going to have contact with her anyway, right? Probably, he admits, then laughs. “But hey, I’m immortal, right?” She leans forward and whispers in his ear, as serious as a heart attack, “If only you could die.”
Now it’s the end of the day again, and Mirai is meeting up for her usual attempted murder. Except instead she goes out for lunch in the park with Akihito, where he gets her to admit everyone talks bad about her on social media, she has no friends but him, and she avoids her apartment because there’s a youmu in there that she can’t kill. He declares this must be fixed. If she learns to kill youmu, then maybe she’ll leave him alone, he thinks.
She says she doesn’t want to, and he asks her, exasperated, why she doesn’t simply quit being a Spirit World Warrior. She shoots back, just as frustrated, that she can’t, reminding him of her cursed blood. She says she tried, but she can’t walk away from it whether or not she wants to. This is what she has to do. He goes quiet, gives her a small, sad smile and says, “It’s the same for me.” Then he leads her to her apartment.
They arrive, and at first it simply seems empty and quiet, but soon there are strange noises and movements, and the youmu appears. Mirai whips out her blood sword as the youmu forms, looking like some kind of floating unwrapped mummy…and the episode ends.
I love a lot of things about Beyond the Boundary. I love that the girl is the one whipping the sword around, to start. I love that the guy is pretty beta. There’s actually more about the guy to come and we’ll discuss that in upcoming episodes, and this will include ships, but we’ll cross those bridges when we come to them. I also love the whole monsters inside theme, which isn’t new at all of course, but I love the way BtB plays with that theme. I love that it’s Mirai’s blood and Akihito’s identity, that neither one of them want what they have inside them but to take it away is to end them and so live with it they must.
I also adore what I already mentioned, how we go through this whole thing with mega ultra paranormal background and it is only going to dial up, but meanwhile, don’t forget your school books. As a writer I’ve got to remember this grounding, because it seriously works. They lose it a bit in later episodes, but I really dig this whole “the world is a mess but school must go on.” Everyone writes it for kids but hey, it works for adults too because that would be Life 101. All damn day all I wanted to do was enjoy anime and maybe do some fun things but I had Things I Had to Do. Oh to only have high school in my way. At least then someone would be making me dinner. I’m the asshole who has to cook and make sure there’s food to be cooked. This is why I love the high school magic. Someone is taking care of the background noise. Oh, to have a cafeteria! A clubroom. An adult above me to pretend to have answers so I didn’t have to be the one standing up and lying my ass off about how it’s fine and we’re not all about to go down in a flaming Cheeto apocalypse.
The thing I’ll tell you too is that this anime ends happy enough that I’ll rec it. Now you may end up shipping people who don’t sail together, and that’s fine—the ending is vague enough you can still pilot side boats if you want. I’m not sure that the “movie” or extra version or whatever you call it is out on Crunchyroll. I think I watched it on Youtube but to be honest I’ll be buying the Bluray because I really dig it and need it in my life. For now, however, I’ll continue recapping the episodes one at a time once I have my life homework done and my word count/WIP goals met for the day.
If you decide to give Beyond the Boundary a try, I hope you like it.
Honestly, I should wait until tomorrow to write this recap and analysis, as I am still a teabag of feels still steeping, but I’m also Little Miss Brood and should frankly get my butt back to writing books tomorrow, so let’s write this bitch before I get caught up in the day job or the wrong thing trips me back into an anxiety puddle again. Because right now Everything Is Fucking Wonderful even though Yuri On Ice has ended. Season one has ended, that is. The punchline of the day is I would bet hard, hard money we’re getting a season two and that the series as it stands is highly satisfying, emotionally healing and utterly rewatchable until we get that second season. So today we dance, katsudon. Ready or not, we dance.
There will be spoilers ahead, and GIFS. Here’s the non-GIF link. Before we get there, though, here’s a list of all my blog posts to date on Yuri on Ice. I’ll update this as any get added, including the one I’ll be doing on December 28 at Happily Ever After at USA Today. That one will be more of a retrospective post, but my aim is to make it interesting to both people who have watched the show and people who are curious.
And because it comes up every time I do a post: You can watch Yuri on Ice here.
- Born to Make History: Heidi dishes the hell out of Yuri!!! On Ice (Overview and Eps 1 & 2)
- Born to Make History, Continued: Yuri!!! On ice Episode 3 recap, Eros of the Pork Cutlet Bowl
- Born to Make History Continued Further Still: Yuri!!! On Ice episode 4 recap, Like Yourself…and Complete the Free Program!!!
- Born to Make History: Yuri!!! On Ice episode 5-6 recap summary
- Born to Make History: Yuri!!! On Ice episode 7, the one that broke fandom
- Born to Make History: Yuri!!! On Ice episode 8 recap, I fucking hate JJ already
- Born to Make History: Yuri!!! On Ice episode 9 recap, absence makes us laugh and get mushy and cry, and I want to punch JJ more than ever
- Born to Make History: Yuri!!! On Ice Episode 10 recap, @kubo_3260 is a genius & I want to retire to be her handmaiden and make her katsudon and cake
- Born to Make History, Supplemental: Victor Nikiforov Weeps for Toxic Masculinity
- Born to Make History, Supplemental: Yuri on Ice—the Gift of the Undefined Romance
- Born to Make History: Yuri on Ice Episode 11, Our Heartbeats flutter to a stop (but it’s gonna be okay, I swear)
Okay. Spoilers ahead. You’ve been warned.
This post isn’t about Yuri on Ice, believe it or not.
I’m definitely still in my initial stages of exploring this topic for myself, but it helps me to talk out loud, and it helps me to feel like I’m helping other people recognize if they’re in the same boat themselves. I know that’s the case because every time I bring this subject up I’m drowned in comments and emails and notes of people saying, “I feel that way too.”
I’ve not been shy about admitting I haven’t been able to handle the post-election fallout well, and the truth is it very quickly became only a tiny bit about the election itself. Despite all my efforts to use logic, coping mechanisms, and every tool in my not insignificant arsenal to assert self care, since November 9 I have barely eaten, barely slept, experienced frequent (but mild) panic attacks, had decreased interest in usual activities, been irritable, withdrawn from friends and family. I am unable to listen to any news and even a few news stories, even simply Twitter headlines can send me into a terrible spiral. I don’t mean that I’m simply upset. I mean that one story about the CIA can mean I won’t sleep. Sometimes a simple photo of a certain individual who won the electoral college can render my appetite dead for eight hours. In no way am I exaggerating my reactions. They’re intense and upsetting and I am, despite all my efforts, unable to control them. I’m managing them, but I cannot get ahead of them, not in the way that I want. And as December 19 (the day the electoral college votes) approaches, all my anxieties get worse.
I have my coping mechanisms, but they’re bandaids, and I’m very aware of this. So today with great eagerness I went to my new therapist and fifteen minutes into her gentle leading chatter I abruptly took hold of the conversation and said I wanted to talk about something, and I explained what was happening to me. I laid it all out. We’ve already talked about this in my introductory visit, but I really put the whole corpse on the table, and I was honest and calm but also raw about it, and then I said, “I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to move forward, can you help me?”
I knew she wouldn’t have a magic wand. I didn’t expect her to fix me, but I hoped she could give me a tool or at least some insight so I could move forward or at least not feel so helpless. She did give me something, and it was odd, because it was something I already knew. But it was oddly magical after all, simply having someone else say it to me, to have me lay that all out and then have her name it. See it. Acknowledge it too.
Basically, I’m reliving trauma. This really is PTSD. Old wounds are fresh, past pain returned. It’s shocking and painful to my present self because I thought that was done, gone, but it’s shocking and painful also because that pain is still real. And my reaction this time is to freeze. There’s nothing I can do, and so I am standing still, bleeding out, watching things fall.
I’m working on trying to move. This post is part of it. I don’t like losing control, and I’d rather tell the whole world that I’m having a hard time than slink around quietly pretending otherwise. I’d rather put a pike in the ground with tears down my face bleeding than bleed on the inside and stumble around while people wondered what was wrong with me as I continued to fall more and more spectacularly. Also, I know I’m not the only one having trouble. Apparently therapy offices are full of people like me. Like, full. This fucking election woke up all of us. Some people are angry and fired up, and I love you for that. Please go fight.
Those of you who need to sob and bleed, those of you frozen who can’t move, my hand is up. I’m in this corner, if you need to huddle.
Here’s the thing that I talked about today, the thing that made me sob all the way home, the thing that drove me to blog, that I need to climb on top of so I can find better footing. It’s not just that the man who assaulted me and fucked with my head has merged in my mind with the President Elect, that ever time I see him or hear him or read his name I feel physically ill, the way I did when I was young. It’s that every time I see people who voted for him or discarded the threat of him and protest voted I see enemies and enablers. I see the people who I told and didn’t believe me. I see the people who dismissed me. I see the people who made excuses and didn’t help. I understand intellectually it’s not the same, but the problem is, trauma doesn’t work that way. It’s a reptile response, and at this point when I drive down a road and see a Trump bumper sticker, my brain says, enemy, threat, get out, get out, they hate you, they don’t care what happens to you or anyone you love, they’re monsters. I can’t see people anymore. I see enemies and allies. It’s really exhausting, and I want to quit, but it’s not that simple.
I have been crying pretty much since my appointment, but honestly that’s good. They’re different tears than the ones I cried right after the election. Those were tears of panic, and these are release, mourning. While I drove Sia’s “The Greatest” was playing, and I immediately put it on repeat and cranked it as loud as my eardrums could stand. It’s playing now, so loud the bass is like a heartbeat in my head, Sia entreating me over and over again not to give up, reminding me I’m free to be the greatest and that I have stamina. And at some point a triangle of images formed in my head, three Heidis from three different times of my life when this trauma was sharpest. The time of the incident, which was such a hellish, awful time on so many levels, a Heidi floating on a sea of chaos, barely feeling. The Heidi in her early twenties, returning home and seeing him in town and recoiling in fear, having panic attacks, trauma spilling over until random things triggered her and she melted down at college, ending up in her first real therapy session with the campus pastor, the first person to believe her.
Then there’s the current me, the last leg of the triangle. We stand across time and space, regarding each other, feeling each other’s pain and shock and helplessness. I have tried to send strength to them, showing them where we end up, and they in turn have sent strength back to me, reminding me that we did in fact find a way to go forward, that it hasn’t been that the trauma has been eating us alive all this time. And yet I’m also noticing there’s a need to stand here and acknowledge it, to witness. To say, “this is a thing we are all having, and it is awful and painful and none of us deserve it, whether or not we can endure it. Maybe we are the greatest and have stamina, but this is a shitty thing we have, and we all hate it.”
It’s funny, that’s the thing I resist the most, because it feels like a dark pit, as if acknowledging it sucks is the most dangerous thing, that which will suck me down. And yet every time I join the others in admitting how much this hurts, how much I hate it, how much I am still both of them no matter how old and smart I am, how wise I may have become–every time I jump into what I’m afraid is darkness, that’s when I’m able, even if only for a moment, to sing along with Sia and spin in a spark of light.
I can’t call Senators. I can’t protest or picket. I can’t yell or scream, even though I have in the past. When you see me gleefully tweeting about anime or anything at all, I may be indulging in my privilege to ignore the woes of the world, but it isn’t the case that if I didn’t ignore it I would be out there fighting. The only other choice for me right now is destruction. I hate admitting that, but it’s where I am. If I had to spend my days lobbying politicians and arguing against who we have elected I would last less than a week and then I would need to be hospitalized. Absolutely no hyperbole in that sentence.
That said, I know my way out of this. One, therapy. Lots and lots of fucking therapy. I have so many goddamned appointments, honey, and I’m going to all of them. All of them. Crying is happening too. I’m hoping soon when I wake up at three AM I can come down and cry and journal rather than simply watch Haikyuu! and try to forget the world exists. As soon as the smoke clears on Christmas I’ll be back to full time writing too, and that will help me as well, because work has always calmed and focused me. You can bet your ass this will all bleed into my books, and that’s a good thing. Directly and indirectly, but what will matter is I can create those worlds and feel as if I have control. I am not okay right now. But I know what I need to do in order to get to okay again.
And now we get to the other reason I wrote this post, in addition to it being therapeutic for me to confess. If you read this and you feel this way at all, if you’re having trouble because of this fucking election, whether or not you feel you have a right to feel that way or it’s silly or not or you’re overreacting–if you relate to anything I said here even a little, please, please go find yourself a good talk therapist. They’re not magicians, but they’re wonderful mirrors. Someone to help you see yourself and what you’re doing and where you’re trying to go.
Even if you can’t do that, if you’re having trauma because of this election or for any reason, don’t feel ashamed, and don’t feel alone. And don’t feel powerless. I may be down now, but I’m not felled, not by any measure. It’s not about whether or not you fall. It’s how you get back up again.
I definitely have a mountain to climb. But Sia’s right. I do have stamina. And the hell if I’m giving up. Then, now, or ever.
Born to Make History: Yuri On Ice Episode 11, Our heartbeats flutter to a stop (but it’s gonna be okay, I swear)
There will be a GIF and non-GIF version of this blog for many reasons. If you require a non-GIF version of this post, please redirect to this link before the cut.
If you’re reading my posts for spoilers, you can carry on as you do. If you’re here because you’re trying to decide if you should wait until next week to watch because you’re nervous, if waiting a week is going to kill you if there’s too much tension but you don’t want to be spoiled, let me stop you right here. Play episodes 1-10 on permanent loop for the next seven days and then play 11-12 straight through next Wednesday. You’re welcome.
Because yes. It was That Kind of Episode.
I swear this isn’t going to turn into a Yuri on Ice blog, and I promise I still am writing fiction, though I’m getting dangerously close to a volume of printable work on this show alone. Here’s the thing, though, episode ten really did change the whole game, and it’s going to keep changing things. At some point this weekend I’m going to rewatch the whole series given the new information that we have, but I just saw a Tumblr post that made my head spin. So here we are, one day later.
Spoilers again. Get out if you don’t want them. Read More
Born to Make History: Yuri!!! On Ice Episode 10 recap, @kubo_3260 is a genius & I want retire to be her handmaiden and make her katsudon & cake
I would like to warn our affiliates that we will be running long. Also I have so many feels and this post will be ridiculously effusive. If it were me delivering this as a speech in a bar, I would be drunk, weeping, and there would be rendering of garments. Probably at some point I would begin erecting a shrine to Mitsurō Kubo out of whatever material was at hand, and then it would just get weird, weirder than that was already. Probably sticking to written words is best.
Let me begin with these words: with two episodes yet remaining, and with the caveat that I understand this is anime, not a novel, I am elevating Mitsurō Kubo into my top five authors, and at this point it’s simply a cool-off period (and the remaining two episodes) to see whether she dethrones Henry Fielding as #3 behind Sir Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, or if I need the whole canon to really dethrone Bujold and Austen, or if I should put her at six, or what. But she’s in there for sure. Unless she drops a nuke on Barcelona or something during the last two episodes. She has stolen my soul, and I don’t want it back. She is genius. Woman, Kubo-sensei, what have you done, you brilliant, patient, beautiful genius. May every wish you have ever desired come true upon you tenfold, forever, and may I please, please simply stand near you someday so I can weep near your shadow and die happy.
SPOILERS, SO MANY FUCKING SPOILERS.
Born to Make History: Yuri!!! On Ice episode 9 recap, absence makes us laugh and get mushy and cry, and I want to punch JJ more than ever.
I had so many thoughts about where this episode might go, and worries about where it might go. This is the problem with groundbreaking stuff: you never know exactly what ground it’s going to turn over. You hope it’ll be the earth you want them to go for, and at some point you start to trust them, but as everyone who had their heart ripped out of them over The 100 last season (and so many other shows and stories), we know queer representation doesn’t always do what we need it to do. This is why romance novels are so treasured and why readers are so loyal. But we want to see all media give us some HEA. So we show up hoping.
I wasn’t sure at first if the show was going to be there for us, but today I knew for sure Yuri!!! On Ice is definitely in the ring. One hundred percent, not just hat in the ring, but coat off, knuckles wrapped and dusted, and I’m hoping to all that’s holy strapped in for more than just this season. I knew there was subtext. I longed for more than just baiting. I wasn’t entirely sure what to hope for after a while or even what I was watching until I got to episode seven, and then I thought, holy shit, we went there, we really went there, we’re here, oh my god. Even then, I still doubted. Call me Thomas, because I kept concocting scenarios in the back of my mind where that was a blip, Victor being overcome with feels and crushing Yuri later. Look, I’ve been burned before. I was ready for everything. I am not one of these young lads or lasses watching from bedrooms or dorm rooms. I have been taught well not to hope.
And then today happened and now I’m so toasted, so screwed, so lost to these boys and this show even more than I already was, because I believe, all the way down. This is not anything but a love story. No question. No apology, no bait and switch. Not unless they violate every code of storytelling on earth, and I don’t believe they’ll do that. They are here for the love story.
They are here for the queer love story.
THE JAPANESE ANIME WITH WIDE INTERNATIONAL RELEASE NOT TREATED LIKE YAOI AND CONSIDERED WITH TOTAL SERIOUSNESS AND GRAVITY IS A QUEER LOVE STORY. Drag every soul you know to this show. Subscribe to Crunchyroll. Tweet and Tumble and Facebook for your life. You do not only vie for season two. You are lobbying for a shattering of a wall through which more Yuris and Victors and Salas and Milas and so much more can pour.
So. The recap.
I was all set to go to bed, and then I read one too many things on Twitter after eating. I haven’t eaten all day, which is a new weird habit. I’ve been blaming it on one of my drugs, but I wonder if it isn’t more a post-election thing than anything else, and “post-election” for me is a basket catching a myriad of things we’ll gloss over in a second. The bottom line is, I’m supposed to go to bed, but I feel like I want to vomit, so I’m going to blog instead, and drink tea, and listen to the soundtrack to an anime which I have hobbled from YouTube videos partly because I want to listen to the songs but mostly because I am desperate to hold onto my sanity.
So it’s a weird thing to some people, I know, to blog your neuroses, to “air your dirty laundry.” Well, trust me, you’re not even seeing the underwear. You’re seeing socks at best. But it’s a technique I’ve used my whole life, because while there are more than two types of people in the world, there are as far as I can see two in this house: those who bury the things they don’t want to look at, and those who pin the monsters to the bulletin board and aim searchlights on them. I’m a searchlight gal.
I gotta lotta monsters up in here, some I’m not going to share with the entire Internet, thanks, but some are easier to roast with friends. And yeah, the fucking election is one, though it’s only one. I mean, it’s the nightmare that won’t end. And I mean that it won’t end as in every time you shift the glass of the world you get little shafts of light shining on how shit is going to reflect, possibly for a long time, and sometimes that freaks me out. Which gets us to my second and much more pressing issue, the sense that I can’t control any of it. I never could, and I’ve always been aware I’ve been wandering around a world full of injustice, but I feel like we just leveled up fifty levels without warning, or I became more aware of more levels or something, and I’m having a hard time there. Plus there’s the stuff from about six blog posts back, plus I’m worried for my kids, and you know. Sometimes you want to vomit.
Tomorrow morning is talk therapy–second session, which will be more of real one, because first time with a new person is always like first day of school. Second one honestly will not be much better. It takes more than a few minutes to get to the meat of stuff, and I’m spoiled because I had a great therapist for years and I haven’t forgotten her. But I’m excited to go, because I view therapy as throwing acid on the monsters’ faces, and I’m all about that. Sometimes it leaves you raw, yes, but then you get better, and I like getting better. I don’t mind introspection, and talking one-on-one has never been an issue for me, nor has sharing details about myself, even with strangers. Witness me taking to you right now.
In the meantime, though, there is this whole strange new relationship with food and the not eating of it. I mean, I ate Thanksgiving, I guess. And that was fine. I didn’t eat much, and I only had a smoothie and Thanksgiving dinner, but that’s not really unusual. But then there’s today, where I choked down a bowl of cereal (and I mean choked) in the morning then nibbled at a small piece of pie around noon and then didn’t eat anything until half an hour ago when I couldn’t stand it anymore. If you know me in real life you know this is nothing like me, this way I’m eating. It’s slightly freakish. I can tell I’m losing a little weight, but it’s also making my body unhappy at times. So I have to quit that. I’m going to start making myself drink smoothies and then eat dinner, whether I want it or not, even just a small dinner. God just the thought makes me want to hurl.
Yeah, nobody in this desk chair has any issues at all…
Anyway. That’s my problem, and I’m gonna fix it, somehow. In the meantime, I have my drug, and I’m administering it copiously. Sadly it’s not an antidepressant. I would totally go get myself on one, except I’ve learned through attempts to mitigate pain through antidepressants that they totally kill my ability to write. They don’t for everyone. They do for me. And when I say kill, I mean, there’s nobody home. I’m here, and I’m happy as hell, but I can’t write anything. Blog posts and recipes. No fiction. I can do a little, but it sucks. If you go back in my published career and see some weird lulls or where the work gets thin or maybe you even felt like it just wasn’t quite like you were used to? Drugs. Well, drugs and then sometimes also screaming pain, but that’s another story.
So I have to find other ways to get my brain through this speed bump, ergo the not passing go and directly moving into therapy. It’s not enough, though, and so there are other things. One is music. That’s always been there anyway, but I’ve cut out podcasts and news and started playing music instead. I mean, I still read Twitter and Facebook for news–I follow a bazillion news networks–but I don’t listen to NPR or any of my podcasts, though I miss them all the same. The other thing is I’m consuming story. Weirdly, though, it’s not coming the way it usually is. Usually I read when it comes to moments like this. Except this time I can’t.
I keep hoping this goes away. I can’t explain it and I don’t get it at all. Any second a book I really want to read will come out and that will break it, I hope, except I have about six books I really want to read on my kindle and they’re just sitting there. So who knows what’s going on there. Audio books have been okay, somehow, and I’ve been listening to favorites. I’m going to restart some Pratchett soon. But I can’t even read Pratchett yet, and that’s like a four alarm fire. I’ve wondered if maybe this is finally the moment for The Shepherd’s Crown, which I’ve been saving (still). But not quite yet, I don’t think. No reading, not yet.
Anime, though. Anime is all up in this house.
I was already watching anime with Anna as post-election therapy before the infamous Yuri on Ice infection began, but now I’m a habitual cruiser of Crunchyroll and Funimation and a subscriber of both. I also started a trial of a “learn Japanese” online thing because it was one afternoon’s wild hair and it was the kind of thing that seemed good to give my brain to chew on. Trying to figure out how to ask for directions from the train station I’m unlikely to ever get to seems more productive than making myself so ill from worry I can’t keep food down. Plus then I too could argue with the translators someday.
Mostly, though, my brain is stuck on one drug and one drug only right now. When it encounters something it doesn’t like, when it reads one too many tweets, when it thinks about too many horrible things that could happen, when the straps that hold everything in the world it thought it knew begin to come too loose for its comfort, something curls around my ears and whispers, “play the gay skaters again, okay?” Sometimes I feel like maybe it’s been a bit too many times, that we’re spoiling the show, and my brain is okay with this, because it knows about Tumblr. I’ve gone from someone who doesn’t really get that place to a manic dashboard refresher inside of a weekend.
Then there are the songs. I’ve had “History Maker” for some time now, but this isn’t enough. My brain will occasionally put out a call for a new song, and once it saw that translation for “Stammi Vicino” it had to have it, and today it got it. It’s a good thing I know how to capture audio. This would all be easier if everything were simply released for purchase, but never fear, I’ll be buying it all the second it is. At this point I owe these people a shrine stateside.
If I were younger, this obsession would be different. It would be hotter, whiter, more feverish. It would feel more close to my heart, more real and personal. I’ve been to enough rodeos to see this for what it is: a mix of professional wonder and a dash of mild psychosis, a brain seeking for something, anything to cling to in order to create order amidst chaos. I don’t see any harm in letting it have its gay skaters. At this point when the gay skater sign goes up I know it’s basically a bat signal, Little Heidi saying, “things are not okay in here, we need some comfort stat,” and so to Tumblr or the YOI playlist we go. I just hope it keeps working long enough for therapy lady to help me get some more adult sized tools or the country to get its shit together.
Yeah, I know. I’ll be working on those tools as fast as possible.
Anyway. If you’ve been wondering why we downshifted from “hey I’m kind of freaking out here” to LET ME TELL YOU ALL ABOUT THE GAY SKATERS, now you know. Kind of the same thing, just different sides of the freak out.
Still going to tell you all about the gay skaters. I could pretty much strap in every night and talk four three thousand words about them, honestly, and I’m definitely going to keep doing recaps and possibly the occasional “this is what I just thought about” posts. But starting tomorrow I’m back in the fiction word-making game, because I have my own boys to write about.
Brains are weird, man. I definitely have an octopus on mine right now. Kind of works out I’m writing about the guy who knows all about how to dance with one, I guess.
Anyway, thanks for letting me put a few pins in this part of the monster. Going to listen to these songs a few more times, cruise just a little bit of Tumblr, stay the hell off anything with news on it, then go to bed. And not gonna lie, I’m probably going to watch an episode.
Or two. Or as many as it takes until Little Heidi says it’s okay to go to sleep. I like her. She gets what she wants right now. And hey, I like the gay skaters too.