A new-ish idea about Patreon, Substack, and artlife

This week I feel myself buoyed a bit by Bluesky, which seems to be trying to recreate the heydey of Twitter, which I missed entirely. Being a person chronically years behind whatever the next big thing is, I never got swept up in what was good about it. I came to it late, when I was working a marketing job and had to engage with it. By then it was 2017 and the place was a nightmare that just kept getting worse, like when you wake up from a nightmare and then realize you’re still asleep and having a continuation of the previous nightmare, until you wake up again and then you’re never sure whether you’ve escaped from the dream. Maybe we’re all still in there, who knows.

A sign outside the punk bookstore in Croix-Rousse in Lyon, France. “Books this way, Reality that way.”

Point is, Bluesky is looking pretty nice.

And I’m enjoying the way people are rebuilding writing communities there. Maybe I can catch the wave this time.

I also woke this morning with the terrible thought and feeling that I’m running out of time somehow. I turned 50 after all, and I still haven’t published anything of note. Here in Canada I’m feeling more of a fresh start. But I’m also feeling like, if not now, when? If not me, who? (I mean, everybody else, obviously; everybody who is so clearly better than me or at least got innumerable memos about what it is one must do to be a successful writer. One thing one must do, it seems: write. Gross. Anyway.)

But seriously: I got involved in a show, and I friended a bunch of people I met during it, amazing people, people I’m proud to know. I rehearsed with a choir I’m proud to be a part of; our director reminds me a little of Scott Jarrett if he were female and, well, Canadian.

But also, I auditioned for two solos in the upcoming concert. I was scared, as usual, but I did it, and I got praise for it. One fellow singer said I sounded like Joni Mitchell, which is maybe the best compliment I’ve ever received. It all felt wonderful, and fulfilling, and even if I don’t get a solo (one woman after me absolutely knocked “Callin’ All Angels” out of the park, and if she doesn’t get it then I take back the nice things I said about our director), I’m going to feel good about the way I put myself out there, and was heard.

Now if I could just convince my body for once that singing in front of a group does not mean I am in mortal peril.

I’m getting there, I swear.

Point is. I’m out here, doing art.

I’m doing theatre, I’m making music. I’m writing this column, and I’m working, however torturedly, on my novel. There’s a roman a clef baking slowly in my mind, too, and maybe a fictive memoir or two about particularly titillating periods of my life. I’m trying, more and more, to get into the life of the artist, the life I’ve wanted since I was a child. Back then I thought I would draw, but now I know that that’s not what “artist” has to mean: I just want to be where the creation is happening.

Art is happening right in my front yard. Did you know that peonies could end up looking like this? I did not.

Back to Patreon. I’ve had a Patreon for absolutely ages, and I’ve done, honestly, very little with it. Mostly I’ve occasionally gotten into a rhythm of posting novel excerpts for my Patrons from time to time, and felt guilty about the fact that a few people are apparently into paying me a little money every month to produce stuff. And then I’ve gone months without producing anything. Lather, rinse, repeat, as we used to say.

But I’ve also started this here thing, and have been highly reluctant to take it to paid. Why…? Well, most of it’s probably fear. A sense that nobody’s interested in paying for what I have to say. But also I have a certain distaste for the current media landscape: I’m not a journalist, for one. And I’m not sure how I feel about this world where consolidated media is dead / untrustworthy, and where every person whose work I value has a siloed stream for which I pay them semi-directly. I only have so many $5/month, you know?

But I do already have a Patreon, and while it is small, it is a proof of concept that some people are into the idea of supporting me, a little, in my life as an artist. And I want to talk about that for a second.

So here’s the thing. I’ve been writing for as long as I’ve been able to write. It’s just a thing I do. Singing, too. Theatre, too, though it came a little later. No matter what I’ve been doing in my life, I’ve made the time and space to do art, too, no matter whether I was being paid for it or not.

This sort of works, in an existential sense; the Making of Art has always been of paramount importance to me, and it’s clearly something that I will do regardless, indeed something I must do if I’m not going to fall into an intractable depression and die.

I’m not being dramatic. Mostly.

That being said…whew. I’ve also spent my working life thus far trying to do something at least adjacent. If I couldn’t be a Broadway star, I was going to do arts admin. If I couldn’t teach acting and directing at university, I would get an MFA in creative writing. If I couldn’t (wouldn’t?) publish a novel, I would keep writing them and not showing them to anyone for 20 years. And for my living I’d write marketing copy, treat clients who are blocked and depressed, edit other people’s work, and so on. The 9-5 life has never been for me, and I’ve never followed it. I found other ways, some of them even intensely fulfilling. But I never trusted myself enough to truly make the art my life.

And all of this has taken its toll. Fact is, I could really use a bit of income for the artistic efforts I make, especially if I’m going to make them regardless. Fact is, it’s hard to justify making time for rehearsals and novel work and going heads-down into creative endeavors for hours when there’s living to be paid for. And honestly…I think I’d be more likely to “do it anyway” if there was a little bit more anyway to do it for.

Look at how lifted I was by a little praise. How joyful, how much of a balm against the early Canadian winter it was to have people tell me how good I sounded in my audition. What have I only always ever wanted? People to see what I make and say that it’s good, that it makes them smile. I’m an entire mess and I know it, but in some ways I’m really a simple creature. I just want to move people with the stories I tell, the songs I sing, the shows I make, and I want them to tell me so.

But I’m too old now to deny that it’s hard, increasingly so, to set aside the time and get into the zone and do the damn work when there are so many other things pulling on my time and energy, and those things either make the money I need to live, deliver some instant gratification, make me feel guilty and remiss if I don’t do them, or involve the rest and reflection I desperately need. I have to admit that I’d feel more positive pressure to truly set aside and protect writing time, for example, if I knew that some people were paying me to, and looking forward to enjoying the results.

Maybe that’s self-aggrandizing, or being a “sellout,” I don’t know. I’ve never quite escaped my Gen X roots in that regard. Even the word “monetizing” gives me hives. I missed all the waves, all the times I could have figured out something about how this particular iteration of the internet works and made it give me something to live on. Though I admit I’ve seen what that does to people, and it doesn’t seem great.

Still. Point is. Help?

If you like what I do or have done — whether that’s here, or on Medium, or making shows or singing songs or anything you’ve known me for — please consider supporting me on Patreon. I’m going to try to center the funding part there; they’ve been doing it a long time, and it’s the place that makes the most sense to me to consolidate it.

And if you don’t want to do that — I’ll keep writing here, as I do, for free. I may seek to re-focus this space more on the therapy and grief and trauma-related stuff, but I’ve also enjoyed writing about art here sometimes, or about life in Canada, or politics, or my own fiction, or old artistic expressions that maybe don’t hold up so well.

Meanwhile, over on the Patreon, I’m going to start trying to share new or old/buried endeavors of mine, some locked, some public, and actually let people into what I do. Maybe you’ll even like it. Just remember, don’t join through the stupid MacOS app, which will rob you. Just join on the site, yeah? Or even follow and see if it grabs you. I’ll see you there, or here, or on Bluesky, or all of it. Let’s stick together.