artistic life

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Dear Writers: Please Read (A Book)

Published October 11, 2017 by admin

We’re back to some practical advice for this month, so pull up a chair and let’s dish.

About a year ago, I was guesting at a convention and was hanging out with some other authors. The topic of books came up (duh), and what we were reading, and I heard something which was utterly offensive to my poor ears which you think would be cynical to stuff like this by now.

“Oh, I don’t read, I don’t have time. I just write books.”

Or something. I’m paraphrasing. I think my ears are still crying.

Look at that sentence. Look at it!

If you write or want to write, I want you to stare long and hard at that sentence, and never, ever, do that. 

Look, I get some of you probably think this is bottom of the barrel basic knowledge and a waste of a blog post, but I also didn’t think I’d hear an author who was there giving out advice admit they didn’t read books.

And they weren’t the only one. 

I think I stared and was probably lifted up and carried off before I could open my big mouth.

Here’s the thing: to write well, you have to read. You just do. You don’t learn about different voices in action, or structure, or different takes on genre, or well…anything unless you’re actively seeing what all is out there.

And when I say read, I mean read everything. Everything ever written. Right now.

Okay, okay, that may be a slightly tall order. Definitely read, and please diversify. Don’t read only what you write to try to get a leg up, because you aren’t all those other people, and by time you think of the perfect idea to write to market, the market’s gonna change. You don’t read just to imitate people or try to sell. You read to become a more well-rounded artist and person. You may agree with how some people write and not others, and that’s fair. That’s cool…but you also won’t even know what you agree with and why if you don’t start flipping some pages.

Some of the most frustrating conversations I’ve ever had are with fantasy authors who only read like three other fantasy authors. Or people whose sense of the horror genre starts and ends with Stephen King. The problem is that 1) that gives you an extremely limited range and 2) If you are put in the position of sitting on panels or giving workshops, you are then going to be giving people limited and bad information.

Seriously, don’t be that person. Don’t be the “expert” who doesn’t know at least what some of the subgenres of the basics are. Don’t get so stuck in the romantic aspect of young adult stories that you forget other types of plots are a thing, despite having a huge chunk of titles proving you wrong. No one is going to know everything (no, you’re not), but at least get a feel for things that aren’t just your preference. Know some different mediums. Know what you don’t know. Then go read that.

I look at it like this: if I didn’t read nonfiction, I wouldn’t stumble onto some really fascinating things I could use in some of my titles. If I didn’t read folk stories, Olde School never would’ve gotten written. If I hadn’t started reading manga, I wouldn’t be nearly as brave to try new structures and tangent my plots and do different things. Reading graphc novels has taught me the beauty of trying to streamline and be concise. Anthologies have shown me just what you can do with a theme (and a set word count). Ray Bradbury is a master class of short stories, but his essays are equally important. I spent my entire time in college reading a huge range of plays (some required reading, others things that were loaned to me). All of them shaped the type of artist I’m becoming and my sense of story and action in different ways.

Articles, memoirs, poems, speeches, plays – you can gain something from all of these, whether you’re directly applying it into your work or not.

And, yes, you also learn what not to do. Or, you learn what works for you and what isn’t in your comfort zone or isn’t one of your strengths.

And, honestly, if you aren’t taking the time as an author to read, than I’m going to assume you’re writing for very different reasons than I am. If you can’t make time to support the art that you yourself are pursuing, than how do I know you’re developing your craft? How do I know you have any real respect for how hard everyone else is working? No one starts out fully formed and in a vacuum and there is always something to learn. Actors still take acting classes, artists still learn new techniques. Probably one of the most important things you can do if you’re a writer or want to get published is to get thee to your local library (because libraries are awesome) and see what’s up.

Seriously. Read a book. Then another. And another. Rinse, repeat.

So how about you? If you write, how important is reading to you? Do you stay in your comfort zone or read different things? Talk to me about the pros and cons!

 

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Open Doors: #HoldOnToTheLight

Published October 5, 2017 by admin

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Sometimes I have bits of stories that come out of nowhere, and I’m not quite sure what to do with them. Usually it’s a premise, sometimes an ending punchline, other times it’s a character or just a snippet of a setting or time period. Sometimes I’ll get a few paragraphs that don’t have anything to do with anything, so I write it down, file it away, and go on with life. It’s much more stream of conscious than how I usually work, but I’ve learned to go with it in those moments.

A piece of dialogue has followed me around for years, and I could never figure out where it fit. I thought I knew which idea it went with, but then I’d start to doubt, or things would shift, or not quite match up. It’s something, more or less, to the effect of:

“You can wait and hope, scream and beg til your voice gives out, but at the end of the day, sometimes no one’s coming to rescue you. Maybe they don’t hear. Maybe they ignore you. That’s just the way it is. Being rescued, happily ever after – that’s a little girl’s dream, not reality. So you can give up, or go through it, fight through it, and hope to God you come out on the other side and be better. And some days I’m not sure if I have.”

They’re words that resonate with me personally, and they could fit with a few things I’m developing, so it’s not a question of them not getting used, but who they belong to. Recently, working on a pitch involving the expansion of some reprints, I suddenly discovered who it belongs to, or I’m at least 95% sure. And it shook me to my core, because I never would have guessed it would have been that character. I full well know that I’m putting her through some things, but I also hadn’t quite expected that to come out of her. And it makes me a little sad that I didn’t catch that about her before now, because in her earlier appearances, she’s strong and capable, and obnoxiously flippant to a certain extent. Looks can be deceiving, in fiction as well as real life.

Now, more than ever, it’s extremely easy to lock yourself in your own world, insulate yourself in your friends groups, secure your walls and lock things down for your own sanity. Sometimes you have to, and there’s no shame in that. Sometimes, though, it’s worth leaving a little crack for the light to get in, as Leonard Cohen would say.

As Clarissa Pinkola Estes would say in her poem Abre La Puerta, a wound is a door. Sometimes we have to remind ourselves to go looking for them, as well as leave them open. And it’s terrifying to do either, especially when you’ve been hurt, yourself.

I worry these days that in our world of cultivated social media and algorithms, it’s all too easy to put out a blanket “hey I’m here for you!” and feel like that does the job, especially when it gets likes or retweets or whatever. Yes, sometimes that’s important – you never know who’s scrolling by and may see it. But is that seriously enough, or is that emotional marketing that makes the poster and their friend group feel good, but not much beyond that? I don’t know. Admittedly I have a thing about pretty words with no real attempt to back them up, where the person offering pretty words and platitudes is somehow the only one gaining anything from them.

Besides, what about the people who aren’t in your direct circle that you don’t always talk to? What about the person standing next to you on a corner or that acquaintence at work or that you pass by every now and then at the store that doesn’t see those posts? Sure, there are a ton of resources out there, but what about those people that are in a place where they can’t comprehend that it’s there for them, that they’re worth those resources and time, too? You just never know. The person next to you could disappear at any time, that is a definite reality. And I get it’s a little idealistic to think that someone can be saved with a smile or an enquirey or a kind gesture, especially if they need real, in-depth help.

Couldn’t hurt, though.

I’m not saying overextend yourself or put yourself in danger or put huge mental pressure or stress on yourself. Be mindful, because you just never know what people are going through. Now, more than ever, I will continue to try to advocate empathy, because it’s something we all need to feel human and to be better humans. It’s a private thought of mine that one of the blanket meanings of life, one of the only reasons for bad things happening (privately or publicly, small or mass scale) that I can come up with, is to cultivate empathy. That may not be the case, but it’s the only thing that makes sense to me in the scheme of things.

We’re conditioned to be incredibly guarded in this modern world. To be tough, to keep rolling with the punches, to suck it up, buttercup, to deal, that other people have it worse. It’s incredibly hard to be vulnerable in this day and age, even a little. If things aren’t on the catastrophic scale, especially now, how can one complain?

It doesn’t make some things any easier.

Admittedly, I can be an extremely guarded person. There are reasons for this, and it’s my choice who to share those reasons with. No matter the case, I joke sometimes about hiding out in my tower, or the Great Wall of Selah, or just pushing my personal feelings aside until I get through a situation and deal with it later. Through the years I’ve had many lessons fall in my lap (though they didn’t feel like it at the time), as to why those are not great ways to live your life. It also goes to show that we can’t just talk about the reason for people being the way they are, whether it’s trauma, addiction, diagnosis, whatever. There’s also the carrying on, the journeying from that point, the recovery, the coping. We love a hero story and a redemption arc, but we tend to forget how hard it probably is for the person in question to get from point A to point B, even in the most tell-all of memoirs. And sometimes it’s the moving on that brings whole other painful moments that you just don’t see coming.

Some of my hardest personal times were feeling like a failure and going through the day to day, still having to show up, feeling like people were brushing things off or that I couldn’t open up to them. I still on occasion get flustered or anxious during conversation and feel like the biggest idiot in the world, because there are days it still feels like I’m rebounding and relearning how to connect with people and trust them with actual conversation and not be “on.”

One of the hardest things to experience is talking to someone you love dearly, step off the cliff and open up, and the door in their eyes slamming shut and locking tight because you’re saying things they may not want to hear. There’s the being brushed off because people around me figured I’d eventually just over things like I always do, as long as I’m keeping up with whatever’s on my plate. In reality, I’d push them off to deal with them later, until I couldn’t, then not know what to do and felt completely at a loss. Some of the hardest days I had years ago were when I couldn’t find the words to express what I thought might be going on at the time and show up every day and play pretend with my life anyway until things resolved themselves. I’ve bided my time to hang out with and open up to people, anxiety about stuff be damned, and find out they’ve changed their mind and gone off and left me because there were other things going on and other people needed them, and what could they really do? I’ve spent evenings with people wondering if I could talk to them, let it go, then found out years later if they wondered if I was doing okay.

I’ve felt that horrific feeling of being alone in a room of people and wondering if it even mattered I was there.

So yeah, I know how hard it is, and I know the inner workings of my tower, my fort, my wall very well.

If you’ve ever had a nightmare of running through a hall with something after you and every door of escape, of help being locked tight, leaving you nowhere to go, you’ll know the general feeling.

And realitistically, especially as I’ve gotten older, I do get it. Sometimes things happen, and I doubt all those incidents were meant personally. I’ve resolved a few of them with the people involved, forgiven and moved on. Besides, life gets in the way, it’s easy to judge, to choose self-preservation, especially now.

And yet..I also wonder during all those times, who was I walking by? Who was I passing up that could have used a smile or a conversation or some recognition that yes, you are human, I see you, I’ve got you, hang in there.

Because as hard as it was to write the above, I’ve also had some amazing people in my life and beautiful, wonderful little moments that have kept me going.

I’ve had people that started out on my periphery make a choice to come ask how I was in my day to day, and if I was too cynical they took me aside and gently called me out on it.

I’ve had people text me out of the blue with things they’ve kept that I’ve made for them, or things that we’d laughed about years ago, or just to say that they thought of me.

I’ve had people send me cat pictures, or ridiculous gifs, or ask me how a project is going, even if it’s stalling out. And then genuinely bug me to hear about it. Sometimes I get random cards in the mail, and I try to reciprocate those, because they’re fantastic to come home to. I’ve had friends share moments of their kids living up to my bad influence, and just all sorts of silly, fun things that end up mattering. As someone who feels like I’m always the first person reaching out, the one reminding people I’m alive, the one putting out the effort, those who know to keep after me have been godsends at proving that there are amazing people out there and that I’m someone worth looking after.

I’ve had people that I never thought in a million years would remember I existed remember me after not seeing them for a few years, and get genuinely excited about things I’m working on – so much so that I can’t even begin to put a clarifying or cynical spin on it.

I’ve had a close friend on his deathbed ask how I was doing and make me promise to keep creating things and be happy. I still wear the necklace he gave me as a reminder of how much my ideas can influence things at cons and other times when I’m feeling nervous.

I’ve had people call me on the pretense of checking up on a project but really check to make sure things are going okay.

I’ve had library friends, who I never see anywhere else, who would talk about anything and nothing for handfuls of minutes just because.

I’ve had friends and acquaintences who would bring up things like meditation and yoga and transcendentalism, and then pivot the conversation to Prince, and cats, and who knows what else – and it always gives me a laugh and brings me back to present.

I’ve had friends text me just because, and those tint moments have made my day.

I’ve had friends just encourage the dumbest, insane ideas and keep the conversation going until I’m sitting there laughing with tears streaming down my face and it doesn’t even matter if the thing we’ve talked about ever happens, it just feels amazing to be silly and riff like that.

I never realized how much little gestures meant until I went out to dinner with some friends I hadn’t seen in years, and in coordinating the details I began to feel the ol’ virgo detail anxiety creeping up, until I was easily told ‘Hey, no worries, you don’t have to worry about that here. We got ya.’ The fact that I could spend an evening not having to figure everything out was like a vacation.

I’ve had people remind me to come to them with questions, for advice, for venting, because (strangely enough) we’re all in this life thing together and I don’t have to do it all alone (contrary to what past moments and anxieties say, because those definitely lie).

I still have friends willing to come with me to conventions or events I do, just so I’m not driving myself bonkers with preparation. They’re right there pointing out the fun, quirky moments (or instigate them when my back is turned if a giant troll costume is involved), making sure I don’t run myself into the ground.

I’ve had people keep after me and be willing to call me out when I needed it. People who drag me outside, or remind me to put on music, all sorts of little things that are so much better than a general “hey, glad you’re still here!” posted on social media…because I definitely know I’m a part of their life. I know they know that I exist.

And I honestly think at the end of the day that’s what we’re all really after. People to know and remember we’re here.

And it’s not just the direct benefits that I’m talking about in these instances. These incredible, awesome people have taught me how to take a breath, notice those around me, and in turn pass it on. These are the things that make a day better, but in my darkest moments through the years and my not dark but plain tired moments now, they remind me how good people can be and are. If anything has kept me around and encouraged me to tentatively step foot out of the tower and reach out to others, it’s the private gestures from kind people. They’ve turned me into a much better human.

I’m grateful – both for all these wonderful little moments, and the things that brought me to them, because you wouldn’t have one without the other. They’re all teachers in their way, all things to think on. True, you lose a little protection when you open space in your wall or whatever, but you can’t reach out to others until you let some light in.

In my own way, I’m probably a little too prone to emotional vomiting on people, but I want people to know that they matter. I have no shame in thanking people who influence me, or who have put up with me through the years, or randomly texting people to say I’m thinking of them. It may be a little awkward, but it’s become part of who I am. I try to notice people around me most days and it probably creeps some out. Deep down I know that little gestures probably aren’t the be all and end all. But still. If you don’t keep your door open, you can’t reach out through it to others, and they also can’t get through to see you. Besides, there’s the old tradition in fairy tales – you never ignore the stranger or weirdo when you’re lost in the woods or at your wits’ end. How you treat them determines how you’re treated, and that figure is usually the one who teaches the best lessons and distributes the most influential gifts. If you’re closed off and hidden away in all but words only you don’t get them, and you also close off any opportunity to help someone else, in return.

Life can be dark, but it’s also dotted with stars. You have to open the door to see them, though, and sometimes you have to dare to peer through, to reach through other doors to see things further.

About the campaign:
#HoldOnToTheLight is a blog campaign encompassing blog posts by fantasy and science fiction authors around the world in an effort to raise awareness around treatment for depression, suicide prevention, domestic violence intervention, PTSD initiatives, bullying prevention and other mental health-related issues. We believe fandom should be supportive, welcoming and inclusive, in the long tradition of fandom taking care of its own. We encourage readers and fans to seek the help they or their loved ones need without shame or embarrassment.
Please consider donating to or volunteering for organizations dedicated to treatment and prevention such as: American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, Hope for the Warriors (PTSD), National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), Canadian Mental Health Association, MIND (UK), SANE (UK), BeyondBlue (Australia), To Write Love On Her Arms (TWLOHA) and the National Suicide Prevention Hotline.
To find out more about #HoldOnToTheLight, find a list of participating authors and blog posts, or reach a media contact, go to http://www.HoldOnToTheLight.com and join us on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/WeHoldOnToTheLight

 

 

Costume-palooza: Batgirl

Published October 3, 2017 by admin

It’s one of those weeks where I’ve got nothin’ new goin’ on, so let’s go to the archives and see what we can talk about. And since it’s Halloween and my daily artistic life is costumes, guess what another theme this month is…

Pssst, it’s costumes. Totally costumes.

At the moment I’ll stick with stuff I’ve done for myself, because I’m still going through the 9 million possible portfolio shots I’ve taken in my lifetime of other stuff that I have yet to edit and arrange (seriously. So great with documentation, not so great about doing stuff with it). I also like showing stuff I’ve done for myself, because some years I pull out all the stops and other years I am tired and lazy and end up being a car lot noodle (and you think I’m kidding).

This one falls somewhat between extremes, and is admittedly one of my faves. Babs Gordon/Batgirl somehow ended up as like a giant beacon of a role model for me as a kid. I grew up watching reruns of the old Adam West show, I vaguely remember reading comics during church choir practice when I was supposed to be paying attention (I guess I felt I wouldn’t be allowed to borrow them from my guy friends, so I have no idea. It seems silly that I was hiding that habit, now). Of course, as I grew up and really delved into her storyline, it just blew me away. The fact that this character could go through intense trauma, be forced to give up the one of the things that made her who she was, and then come blazing back as Oracle has always stuck with me through my own changes and growth. And sorry, I do not accept non-Oracle plotline Babs. Not gonna happen.

It was the animated series, though, that really grabbed me by the nostrils as a teen. That whole show had an artistic sensibility and design that I really hadn’t seen up to that point. The storylines blended humor with some really serious plot points, and kept the characters fairly true to their roots. I can’t help but think that I learned a lot about story development from that show, as well as episodic fiction, because I just straight up devoured it as long as it was on. Beyond the Tim Burton movies or anything else that I’d grown up on, Batman TAS was and will always be my Batman. So years ago when I was part of a group costume challenge where we decided the theme was cartoons, after some brief debate, I went with Batgirl.  Admittedly I had to go with the redesign because I was also working a ton of hours building Halloween event stuff, but I’m pretty in love with the outcome.

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The basic suit was actually done with cuddleduds – they have a nice sheen and honestly with my body proportions (long torso, wide hips, short legs), I didn’t have the time or desire to build my own catsuit (and I likely would have had to. I’ve had some bad moments with store-bought catsuits). The tops are usually pretty long, so if I keep it pulled under the belt, you really don’t notice from a distance that it’s not all one piece.

The cape was fairly easy to do out of stretch jersey, and it took some off and on googling to figure out which bat was the right bat for that uniform. Admittedly the belt isn’t completely right (I think it’s actually like a series of circles). At the time I could only find partial views of her head to toe (or mid-move where things were blocked), so I went off the original belt a litle bit combined with what I could see, but I don’t really mind it. I was going for a purposefully cartoon look to match the TAS feel, so I used car upholstry liner as the base then covered it with fabric. Gloves and boots are bought because I don’t hate myself that much, and I made gauntlets to go over the gloves out of a yellow party satin and more car liner. The mask is spandex and involved me sitting still for it to be draped to the shape of my head – the one thing I didn’t do (and should have) is put the wig on for that (it may have still been in transit, actually), so the fit is a smidge off, but nothing too bad. The mask was the thing that did take me a while to do since I wasn’t the one draping it. Figuring out how far the darts had to go and positioning the holes did give me some fits, but it was definitely worth it. I think, all in all, I got this done for a little over 150 – for as simple as it looks it did take a little bit to pull off.

 

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Obviously I don’t have fun with this one at all.

 

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Want a creepy read for Halloween? I’ve got ya covered! Check out Mooner, my historical vampire tale, or try any of the genre-defying shorts in Lost in the Shadows! Not into horror? No prob, check out all the other fun titles I’ve written!

 

 

Find Your Definition of Success (Things I’d Wish I’d Known)

Published September 21, 2017 by admin

So I was going to do a post about Dayjobs, but things have kind of segued into something that should probably come first. We’ll start basic and go nitty gritty later on.

You’ve decided you want to work in the arts. Yay, you! Welcome! It’s going to be a wild ride, however you decide to do things. That being said, one thing that really wasn’t a conversation when I was first starting out was something incredibly simple, something that you’re going to need to hang onto as you navigate your art and your career, but mostly personal interactions with others.

Those are always interesting. It’s one thing to talk to other artists/creatives – that’s pretty easy, and even though there may be some clashing with people at different points in their career, you at least kind of speak the same language and can find a common ground.

With other people, however,  things can go a little something like this. For me, somehow this usually happens when out and about, dating, or at (non industry/creative) dinner parties, so this type of person is forever branded in my brain as:

Dinner Party Person: So, what do you do?

Me: Oh I’m in costumes and design/I’m a writer/I’m (insert whatever I felt would be better to navigate these conversational waters here. There’s a reason I hate this question, and moments like this are likely why).

Dinner Party Person: Yeah, but what do you really do?

Me: Uh, I’m in costumes and design – right now I’m working at (insert place/gig here), I’ve got a few things lined up-

or

Me: Well, I’ve got this book out that I’m promoting, I’ve been doing some guest posting and podcasts while I submit, I’m working on an idea that-

Dinner Party Person: No, I mean how do you make your money? Your real job?

At this point, if we were talking costumes, I’d usually saucilly offer to pull out my tax returns, but whatev. To be fair, there are some people who regard my career stories as entertainment (I’m not lying when I say I’ve used stories to get out of dinner parties), and that’s usually fine. I can be that person. No one would believe my autobiography at this point. Writing is harder, because people are either way impressed that you’re published, or they know enough to start asking what type of publishing (I escape this somewhat because I’ve mostly worked through publishers), or how much you actually sell.

There’ are always people who are looking for an opening in these conversations to prove to themselves for some reason that everyone who chooses a creative path is a weird bohemian who lives with 37 other people and paints actual cats or something and is destined to face their lives alone living in a box. It’s like they want to watch you give up on yourself in real time and think that one conversation over food is going to turn on a light bulb and make you go “Oh my god, you’re right, you’re so much better than me! If only I’d been an investment banker! If only I’d not let art into my life! Shame on me!” as you curl into a ball and have the breakdown they expect you to have at some point. Okay, I may be exaggerating a little, but still.  It is all too easy to feel less than coming out of those conversations.

Take social media. Somehow Facebook’s real power is to put you in touch with everyone who is better than you and perpetually throw their accomplishments in your face at your most vulnerable moments. You may love those people, you may be happy for them, but I guarantee at some point you’re going to be scrolling and wonder why your life is a shambling ruins when everyone else is getting contracts or working on amazing things (and they feel the same way, too. It’s all relative). Both of these situations also don’t take personal circumstances into account, so we just assume that we’re obviously not doing something right or we’re not good enough, and on and on.

The point is, we’ve got this idea in our heads that a person isn’t successful unless their face is on Entertainment Tonight all the time, or unless they’re like Stephen King or JK Rowling. Here’s the thing: There are an awful lot of working artists/writers making a living who fall into neither of those categories.  And by this being the prevailing, subconscious viewpoint, that puts a ton of pressure on feeling like things have to be all or nothing. There are a lot of options between those two extremes, and there’s nothing wrong with falling into that big, giant category. People in that middle ground accomplish stuff, yo, there is nothing to be ashamed of!

Your artistic career is not going to be all or nothing. It’s going to change. A lot. You may have to go do something else for a while, then come back to things. You may achieve instantaneous fame and glory and then have to figure out how to not crash and burn. You may, because of location or means, be somewhat of an unrecognized working artist your whole life. This falls back on why you have to decide why you want to do this, because you have to make up your mind constantly if you can live with that or if you’re always chasing an image.

However, it is still your career. Your projects. Your baby. Your dream, your soul, your thing. So you also need to figure out what success means to you. If you’re an actor, is it only being on Broadway or starring on a hit TV series? What’s that going to mean if you get tours or regional gigs or guest star a lot, but can’t quite get that final bit to happen? Are you cool with just doing side event performance work while you do something else? As a writer, are you only going to be happy if you have a huge film franchise built off your work? Are you cool with just putting out a free blog, or are you somewhere in between?

Things can change, goals can change, your definition of success is completely personal and can absolutely change.

I’m not saying don’t shoot for the stars, but don’t beat yourself up if you’re not there yet. This is your personal happiness we’re talking, here, and if you’re continually judging yourself on something that’s likely to be elusive, you’re going to miss out on a lot in the meantime. You want to make sure that you’re appreciating what you are doing, celebrating the successes you have obtained. I’ve had to remind people that while I haven’t had Harry Potter or Twilight-level success, I’ve also put out some books which I’m very proud of, and networking with some amazing people, and determined to keep going so this can be my career. With costumes, I’ve worked alongside some incredible companies and done stuff that I never would have dreamed I could accomplish when I was in my late teens and early twenties and likely still have far to go on that path, as well.

It’s okay to lighten up on yourself and appreciate all your successes, whatever they may be. It’s not going to be all or nothing. If you need someone to tell you, then I am telling you right now: not hitting the highest of highs does not make you a failure. You don’t have to hit that mark to prove anything to anyone, be it yourself, former teachers, family, or those obnoxious dinner party people.

Enjoy the journey in all it’s wild, crazy glory. Enjoy what you learn and what you’re creating, because that’s kind of the point. Enjoy all your successes, no matter what level, because they are yours and they are awesome.

Project Pics: My Little Trenty

Published September 16, 2017 by admin

Alright, something fun for the weekend!

So, I am blessed and cursed to have friends that forget nothing and love to never let me forget anything, either.

Yeah, I now have photographic evidence of the time I made a Closer-era Trent Reznor My Little Pony for a friend’s birthday ten million years ago.

I would like to take time to heartfeltly apologize for bringing this into existence.

No, I am never doing this again (unless heavily, heavily bribed). Mostly because (at least at the time, maybe circa 2004-2006) that small of scale got to me. Now, maybe if I did something more to my liking, I might be alright. I’d have to test it out again, but I remember this specific project being pretty tedious. I’m sure part of it is I’m used to a much larger scale (usually human and above), but I think part of it is that the more modern MLPs are just that hard to work with (at least for a novice like me). It took me at least two goes, because in order to change out the hair you have to slit the head off, and I remember slipping enough the first time that the head wouldn’t fit back onto the body, and it was just a mess.

Yep.

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So, basically, I boiled the original hair out of the head, and made sort of a larger-scale needle threader to pull the hair through the existing holes. It’s about as much fun as you think. The tail was somewhat easier because it’s basically one bunch and it’s enough to actually grab onto. I can’t remember, but I may have scalped a doll from a craft store or a generic dollar store Barbie for the hair. Yeah, I know, I feel horrible just typing that.

Eyebrows, eye color changes, the NIN cutie mark/tramp stamp, and I think the boots were all done with model paint (maybe the silver boot detail with silver sharpie – that stuff is pretty magical). I just couldn’t get the hang of the molding I’ve seen on a lot of other custom ponies, and I was working on a schedule, so I played to my strengths and what I had on hand. Plus, back in my day, MLPs wore actual fabric clothes, so I’m a purist.

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If you have never tried patterning out a vinyl coat & pants and fishnet shirt for a freakin’ miniature toy horse, you’re missing out on a life experience. Granted, my original MLPs are some of the few things that have made it in tact through the years, so I likely patterned off some of the clothes I had for them as a kid (God bless the 80s). I think the shirt was the easiest part – I either crocheted or knit that on a really loose gauge then seamed it up on the body of the pony. the bandages on the forelegs are just muslin, I can’t remember if I bothered to hem the raw edges, but it appears that I did. The vinyl for the coat and pants is something I had on hand, so I did my best off of stills from the Closer music video. Because that is apparently what I was doing with my free time back then.

I never really figured out a great way to do the goggles on that scale, so point deducted for that, I guess. But yes, this exists, probably to be immortalized for all time now. It is honestly pretty cute and seeing it after all these years does amuse me, but man oh man did it take some finger gymnastics to get this thing done.

2nd Look: Dropping the Mask and Exposing the Spirit

Published September 15, 2017 by admin

What can I say – I’m back from vacation this week and the wireless has been cutting out on me. At any rate, I wanted to do a second look at this post, because I think it warrants it. It’s probably the only serious post I’ll ever do under the Lost Manuscripts tag (usually reserved for horribly illustrated stuff I did as a kid, hilarious school projects, and pages of my angst journals). I’m also getting back into Jung, and everything seems to point to that sort of undercurrent lately: Clarissa Pinkola Estes keeps showing up in my social media, The Unwritten series with the whole Leviathan symbolism, and I was given a copy of the reader’s edition of The Red Book last Christmas (still working through that beast). My fascination with this kind of thing is fairly personal and probably goes back to my teen years. It may even go back to this very project.

So, without further adieu, click here to read all about that time I did a gigantic 2 volume school project on my personal interpretation of the masks people wear in society. And my parents wondered why it was hard for me to date as a teen…

 

Becoming a Germ of the Wild, another look back

Published September 6, 2017 by admin

Since we’re at back to school time, I want to tip my hat to some teachers that forever shaped me (and who are probably regretting that now). These are actually past blog posts of mine, so I’ll give you the intro and then link you to the rest of the original post. Today’s look back takes us to senior year of high school:

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After fumbling through the beginning of teenagerdom in Jr. High, dealing with on and off friends, and all the other fun things that 80’s sitcoms didn’t fully prepare me for, high school was mostly uneventful. My freshman year was a little bit of an acclimation time. There was also a theme of me fast growing into a professional piner for dudes who I viewed as unobtainable and who probably wouldn’t have been good for me/would have been a let down had anything actually happened. Other than that, though, I kept my head down and avoided most drama. School work plus a growing love of theatre and music occupied my free time, and then there was college and the ever-important looming future to think about. Then senior year happened.

It’s not something I’m going to waste a lot of time talking about or fully get into, because at the end of the day it’s something that happened long ago, is minimal in the scheme of things, and bringing up specifics would turn into a they-said/she-said situation, and I don’t need that in my life. What’s important is that my reactions to it changed me forever as a person.

To read the rest, click here