Category: Writing

Welcome to the last Otaku Journalist post of 2018.

Usually, I mark the end of the year with a holiday shopping guide for anime fans, or some remarks on Otaku Journalist’s birthday (turned nine in November!), I’ve decided to wrap things up a bit early this year. As a freelancer, my work grinds to a near halt after Thanksgiving and doesn’t pick up again until January. I’ve decided to take advantage of that by visiting friends and family, traveling for the holidays, and celebrating at least 5 birthdays including my own.

The end of the year is a particularly arbitrary benchmark into which I assign a LOT of importance. My New Year’s Eve ritual involves at least an hour of journaling on what I learned in the past year and what I hope to accomplish in the year ahead.

And so, for this last post, I’m revisiting an exercise I started last year, and which I encouraged readers to join in on, too: looking at my year through nine questions. Fittingly, that’s now one for every year this blog has been in existence! Read my answers, and maybe try it for yourself, too.  

What made up your body of work this year? Which parts are you most proud of?

• The Forbes article I did on spending the day with Ladybeard. I probably spent more time on this long-form piece than anything else I wrote this year!
• Second place goes to my Voltron model review. So much to build and photograph.
• I had a blast assessing this Gundam plot coherency scale.
• I spoke about cosplay for CBC Radio’s q show. It sounds like I’m talking the whole time, but in reality, the host was prompting me with insightful questions.
• Jokey posts for the Anime Boston Tumblr that read like shitposts of actual news.
• But most of this year was spent writing for corporate clients. I think enough time has passed for me to reveal that I spent my summer ghostwriting the majority of posts for GoFundMe’s blog. Tough but rewarding work!

What were your top 5 moments of the year?

• Watching the sun rise over the Kamogawa River from my rented Kyoto villa.
• Guesting at Anime NEXT and getting to talk to a new audience about geek careers and Gunpla building. Also, en route, having the best Philadelphia cheesesteak of my life.
• Moving the final item (a Skyrim figure) to our new house.
• Taking the Japanese English conversation club to the Maryland Renaissance Fair and realizing it’s weird no matter which culture you’re accustomed to.
• Hearing the laughter and applause at our midnight Otakon panel on Gundam humor.

What are you really glad is over?

The move! John and I lived in our apartment for seven years and accumulated a lot of stuff. We thought since we were moving a block away, it would be easy to just make lots of trips before and after the movers came. Instead, we unwittingly made it a lot harder.

Then there was the process of getting unpacked, buying furniture for a larger place and figuring out where to put it, all the while fixing any surprises that came up. My weekends disappeared as we spent them working on home improvement when we’d rather be playing video games.

By the time we hosted Thanksgiving, we had a fully-furnished downstairs, two guest beds, and I even knew where all of my plates were. That’s when it finally felt like home.

How are you different today than you were 365 days ago?

I devote my time to different things. I used to put a lot of emphasis on putting aside time for myself and my work; these days I’ll drop everything for my friends. I think that means my values have changed. I care less now about making my mark on the world and more about just living.

Is there anything you achieved that you forgot to celebrate?

I wrote a lot more fiction than I have in years. I think completing NaNoWriMo 2017 made me more comfortable with creative writing. Also, allowing myself to write stuff without immediately sharing it with the world has made it easier to experiment with my writing style.

What have you changed your perspective on this year?

Living with uncertainty. I’m trying to remember that motivational advice about how life is not a dress rehearsal, it’s happening whether you’re ready or not. So I just need to live in spite of not knowing, enjoy the good days without worrying if bad days are on their way.

Who are the people that really came through for you this year?

John was incredibly handy, replacing a burnt-out dryer cable, rewiring the ethernet through the attic, and bypassing more than one $300+ electrician bill with a $4 part and some Gunpla tools. He also made a great travel partner and fellow convention panelist. And of course, he’s been supportive of me in general no matter what. We’ve been married for five years this year!

My Japanese English conversation club became a much bigger part of my life. We began with weekly study groups and expanded to weekend events like pumpkin carving and a painting party. It’s been amazing to realize I’m still capable of making new, close friends in my 30s.

What were some pieces of media that defined your year?

The Danganronpa franchise. I can’t thank Sarah enough for recommending I try it at Anime NEXT. It led to a new obsession for me and my friend group plus my first cosplay in a decade.

Avatar: The Last Airbender. Believe it or not, I never watched it before 2018! My friends and I have been doing a remote watch-along for a couple months. Much like The Good Place last year, it’s given us some common ground and a handy topic everyone likes to discuss.

What will you be leaving behind in 2018?

Feeling personally responsible for everything. It’s hard to relinquish that illusion of control, the belief that if I could just be… better I could force the world to work a certain way, but it’s a much more reasonable worldview to realize that I can’t.

I hope the end of your year is marked by time spent with the people most important to you, plus plenty of downtime for catching up on 2018’s truly impressive anime releases (I suggest beginning with Laid-Back Camp, Hinamatsuri, and Zombieland Saga). And in between all that, I hope you’ll consider thinking about these questions, too. See you in 2019!

While washing dishes last weekend, I dropped a plate. Like a crab claw, my thumb and finger automatically snapped apart. I remember this from last year: the beginnings of carpal tunnel. Even though I type hundreds of words every day, somehow NaNoWriMo is my tipping point. Since it’s the kind of stream-of-consciousness fiction that prioritizes just getting raw, unedited words on the page, it’s a lot more repetitive than the type of thoughtful writing I usually do.

So with that, I’ve quit. Sort of. Even though I’ve taken myself out of the running for the 50,000-word goal, I’ve still gotten a few things out of this exercise:

Four new pieces of creative fiction

After last year’s heavily researched science fiction draft on quantum mechanics, this year’s novel was on the lighter side. I wrote about a fanfiction author with a secret who visits her pen pal in Japan. And whenever I ran out of ideas for that storyline, I broke it up with drafts of actual fanfics I’ve been meaning to write. I published one, and I’m working on the other two now. Without NaNo, that might have taken me years or more realistically, never happened at all—since I put such a low priority on fiction.

A new way to write

I was stuck on a slow Metro train when inspiration for my novel struck, so I started taking notes with my thumbs. By the time the car started moving again, I’d written 300 misspelled, poorly grammaticized words—but 300 words all the same. I realized that when I can’t finesse the spelling and grammar, it frees me to get my thoughts down first without worrying about the final result until later. I’m not a particularly speedy texter, but when I type just for me, I can write almost as quickly as I think. I’ve started writing my weekly streaming reviews this way as well, and the best part is I can still type easily while wearing my wrist brace.

Not always writing to my strengths

One of the reasons I don’t prioritize fiction is because the nonfiction writing that makes up my day job comes first. The other reason, if I’m really honest, is because I’m not as good at it! As a ghostwriter, I’m good at matching other people’s tone and voice; as a fiction writer, I’m not too good at developing my own. As a technical writer specializing in niche topics, I’m good at establishing detail; as a fiction writer I’m crap at worldbuilding and creating a convincing plot. I could just avoid those things, but then I’d never grow. One advantage of personal development that should get more attention is that improvement is a lot more interesting than sticking to your comfort zone. NaNo has been a great way to hone my weaknesses in a kind, supportive space.

Continuing to write every day

I’ve decided to no longer aim for the finish line, but I’ve still been returning to my manuscript daily. After 20,000+ words (that’s 50 pages in Google Drive), it’s habit forming. I have a lot of unfinished threads I want to pursue, even if it’s not at the rate of 1,600 words a day. I’ve been editing, rearranging, and massaging the wording—all the things they tell you not to do during NaNoWriMo because it will slow you down, but it’s precisely this slower pace that is keeping me from injuring myself further.

Last year, I kept writing beyond the point where I was dropping plates. After a close friend died, I’d realized that we never know when it will be our last chance to accomplish a goal. I’d been putting off NaNoWriMo for years and nothing was going to stop me that time; my resolve was unwavering even as I knelt to pick up the shattered china. My novel that year, about a woman in a parallel universe trying to return home, is a palpable metaphor for grief. But this time I’m choosing to celebrate the writing I did do instead of worrying about the writing I didn’t.

NaNoWriMo is an amazing exercise that can push you beyond your comfort zone; I guess this year it was just a bit too much of a push for me. I still want to try it again next year, just with daily carpal tunnel exercises baked into my writing routine. Even if I don’t finish again, it’s such a good opportunity to grow as a writer, which is why I’m always encouraging people to join. Want to use it to work on an existing project? Sure! What if I use my 50k to write 30 different daily blog post drafts? Sounds good to me! Maybe I should offer that same flexibility to myself.

I’m concluding my official count at 21,708 words, but if I do a word count on the manuscript I’m still editing, it’s grown to 23,441 by now. I’m moving a lot more slowly, turning this lump of pure ideas into something more polished. If NaNoWriMo is less about finishing a book in a month and more about starting a habit, well, it’s working for now. Maybe that’s all that really matters.

Photo of kintsugi pottery, which has been broken and mended, via. 

Recently, a friend asked me how I managed to stay motivated while writing my two self-published books. She wanted to know how I managed to keep going when I wasn’t even sure if it was going to pay off, especially when I had other, paying work I could do instead.

A major part of my confidence comes from the fact that both times, I polled my audience about which topics they’d most like to read a book about. It was important to start with something I knew readers already cared about. But today I want to tell you about what came after that: getting some semblance of the book into readers’ hands as soon as it was ready.

It’s just like Twitter. It’s so easy to tweet an idea out there and see people’s interactions right away. The instant gratification is addictive. Longform writing projects are the opposite of that. It’s so long until anybody sees what you’re working on that it can feel like you’re writing just for yourself. And no matter how much you care about the topic, that can be a slog—especially when I know I have more immediate work you could do.

But hold on a second. Let’s examine why that other work feels so much more pressing. I think it’s because the other work: blog posts and articles and copywriting, is due to meet its audience very soon. Like Twitter, it’s more of a conversation, and that feeds my dopamine receptors. Unlike a book that might take months or a year to finish, it will get acknowledged right away.

Since I knew I was motivated by a dialogue, I worked that into the initial release of Otaku Journalism. I started by writing just one chapter and releasing it as a downloadable guide. Then another, and another. By the time I announced Otaku Journalism was going to be a full-length book, these guides had been downloaded more than 1,000 times. Readers had told me what they did and didn’t like, and I could keep that in mind while I wrote the rest. It was easy to stay motivated after that, knowing that this was more than a passion project, but a collection of advice that readers wanted and told me would be helpful to them.

Even so, I don’t think of Otaku Journalism as a success since it took me more than a year to break even and start profiting off of sales—I spent too much time and money upfront. But I corrected those mistakes in Build Your Anime Blog. I kept it lean and dense by incorporating 12 interviews with other bloggers in order to give way more advice than I could offer alone. This extra help also made it possible for me to wrap up the project in just two months. Even if it hadn’t made a profit right away (though it did!), I wouldn’t be out as much time or effort.

The one thing these two strategies have in common is that they got me out of my own head and back in front of an audience quickly. Whether it was through a serial chapter format or through a speed-writing sprint, I got to the good part—getting reader feedback—as soon as possible.

The thing is, writing in a vacuum is hard. When it’s just you and your word processor, it’s easy to get caught up in your own anxieties. What if people hate it? Or even worse, what if they don’t care? The thing is, if you did your homework before starting to write (through a poll or another sort of audience research), you know logically that people want this. It’s just that the gap between picking the project and putting it out there is the time that it’s toughest to remember that, because there’s the largest amount of space then between you and your audience.

I’ve been remembering this all over again this NaNoWriMo. This is about the time when the glamour of being a capital “N” Novelist wears off and I face the reality of extended daily writing goals, reevaluating if I still want to finish this. (I mean, last year I ended up in a wrist brace so it’s a huge question of risk vs. reward; a constant struggle of motivation vs. self-preservation.)

Whenever I feel the least motivated, I talk to friends who are also doing NaNo about where I’m stuck. On a few occasions, I have dropped my own manuscript to write a scene or two for a friend’s. It’s so much easier to write when I know what I’m putting down will soon have an audience. Even if my friend doesn’t like my contribution, it feels good to be acknowledged, compared to plugging thousands of words away into a document that might never be ready to publish.

It might be a long time before my work is ready for the world, and I certainly didn’t workshop my NaNoWriMo idea with a test audience. But I can still text a bit of dialogue I’m proud of or talk to people about the process. These moments of outreach remind me I’m not writing this alone.

Continuing from last week, not to mention last year, I’m wrapping up every November blog post with my current word count out of 50,000. Today it’s 16,417—I’ve fallen a few days behind. I’m not sure if I’ll get to the finish line this year, but I still plan to write a little every day!