This Project is Over the Top, Even for Me
I’ve been online since the mid 90s, so you’d think that I’d be used to the wildness of the world wide web.
And yet I’m sitting here, more of less shocked at this amazing thing I’ve made with people I’ve never met, from around the globe.
Some of you have been following me long enough to know that, just before the start of the pandemic, I started animating a “trailer” for Secondhand Origin Stories, even though the book was already out.
I had never really animated anything before. I’d watched a lot of documentaries about animation, animators, and animation studios. But, other than like 2 basic animations, consisting of about 6 frames each, that I made on on my families first color-screen computer (how's that for dating myself?), I'd never animated anything before.
Thankfully, I had a friend I knew from my days in indie comics who knew a thing or two about animation, and was willing to come over and teach me the basics of how to animate in Clip Studio Paint. I compensated them by turning the lesson into a fancy tea- an excuse to dress up and make them a whole homemade cheesecake in the flavor of their choosing. It turned out to be one of the last social events we had before the pandemic got going.
With that single lesson, and a little rotoscoping, (which is a lot harder than I thought, by the way) and some careful use of tools and tech, I’ve produced several animated clips that I’m slowly compiling into a “trailer” that I hope will be finished by the time I’m ready to release book 2 in the series, Names in Their Blood. Here's a few preview GIFs.
I’m getting better.
Not only that, I’ve discovered that animating is the most soothing hobby I’ve ever enjoyed. It’s perfect for when my brain is too tired for writing. It’s gotten me through pandemic times, police-teargassing-my-whole-neighborhood times, and Trump times.
I have no plans to stop.
So, even though I animate at a snail’s pace, and am not close to done with the trailer, my mind started wandering, several months ago, to what my next animation project could be.
I had an idea, but it seemed outlandish even to me.
I spent my preteen and teen years watching Sailor Moon, Gundam Wing, Trigun and Cowboy Beebop. I’ve had periods of watching less anime, but I’ve never really stopped watching it.
And I got it into my head that it would be gloriously self-indulgent and incredibly funny to make an anime opening theme song for my own works. Scrapped Gods (Second Sentinels book 3) had enough elements nailed down that I knew it could fit into several of the visual tropes and aesthetics, allbeit with very US midwest imagery.
It's all so incredibly self indulgent. I barely think of these projects as book marketing. Who does this? Nobody. Because it’s ridiculous.
But it is fun.
When I’ve mentioned the potential new project to my wife and friends I got a lot of people smiling and shaking their heads. A lot of “that sounds like something you would do” comments and amused sighs. Clearly, this is how the people around me are used to me behaving.
If I do something, I do like to do it beyond a reasonable level.
When I was in college I decided that I wanted to be in a comics anthology but I didn’t know how to submit to one. So I organized 9 nerds into making one and even got some of them college credit. When I decided in my mid 20s that adulthood involved a devastating lack of invitations to formal balls compared to what I had been led to believe, we found a way to throw one. In my 30s when I found out that comic artists in Portland were being invited to the final full dress rehearsals of operas to sketch “promotional art” and so got free opera, I instigated 10 years of free opera for local comic artists, including myself, complete with pre-show talks and fancy snacks.
The simple truth is that my default state is instigating unlikely projects. I usually manage to pull it off.
But even I figured that making an opening credit song for my book would be difficult.
Because where would I get the song? Animating, event planning and drawing were all at least adjacent to skills that were already in my wheelhouse. But songwriting is truly beyond me.
I suspected that I might be able to find an indie musician who I could directly pay a few hundred dollars to for small-scale licensing rights. I spent months digging around for someone with the right vibe, who had a song that would go with what I was planning. But no dice.
I turned to social media.
Johnathan Johnson, the head of Plot Twist Studios, reached out to me on Tumblr about doing a custom commission, but I laughed it off. A custom commission would be out of budget. I’m going to get hundreds of hours of entertainment out of this, but there still had to be a limit. I have a family to support.
But.
Just for kicks, I asked. What would it cost?
Several months later, I can not stop laughing that this actually worked.
Plot Twist Studios did the composition for me. I sent in key words, imagery, anime openers that I thought had the right vibe. I did not know enough about music to be coherent, but he understood what I was looking for and translated my flailing feedback into exactly the feeling I was looking for. I am truly blown away that he got the vibe of a book I’ve barely outlined, distilled into a minute and a half of music.
Originally I’d planned for the song to have lyrics, and to that end I commissioned poet Wendy Ruzindana, who found me on twitter. She produced a fantastic poem called The Path that really spoke to the themes I’d given her. I got an extra kick out of collaborating with someone in Rwanda because the worldwide-ness of the Internet is still magical to me.
We went back and forth several times, trying to get the lyrics to fit into the composition. Since I don’t know what I’m doing, there was a mismatch. Both Wendy and John were very open to shifting things around to try to fit it together. But I was too in love with what they had each created, and didn’t want to water or whittle down either for the sake of fit.
I’m attaching the uncut version of the poem to the end of this email, and the instrumental, which is still called The Path in honor of Wendy’s poem, is right here.
https://soundcloud.com/projecttrinity-1/the-path?ref=clipboard&p=a&c=1&si=7ab41d37e16543e189b57409c4a80d53&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing
This is the song, as I'll be using it. Until I finish animating the opener to it, you lot are the only ones who get to hear it. (Except for anyone trying to hang out with me while I’m writing in the next few years. I expect to be playing this on loop.)
I can’t believe this worked. I feel like such a Patron of the Arts. I feel like the most ridiculously self-indulgent indie author who ever lived. I feel like a super lucky collaborator.
I feel like making things.
If there’s an especially fun self-indulgent instigation on your mind, I encourage you to shoot your shot. If there’s one you’ve already done, I would love to hear about it.
I’ll close out, yet again, with offering you piles of free books. This month I’m involved in two giveaways. Same deal as before- you sign up for the author’s newsletter, you get a free book! Please check them out here and here. But only till May 1st, so don't wait too long.
I’ll see you next month. Until then, please enjoy The Path.
The Path
Ask the young dreamer where the path lies.
Ask when the scarred trail on the soul will reach destination.
Ask the seniors if it is necessary to be defined by the dead ideals of the gone.
Why should the language of pain be spoken by all?
In a myriad of nauseating lights, why should darkness be extinguished?
Ask the gods why lives should be decreed.
Ask why the written should be reaffirmed.
Ask why must the same rituals be performed.
Why should change be necessary?
Why should one face be seen by the mirror?
With the soul unwilling, pretense is worn to hide the true face of the destined.
The smell of sin and lies is showered to bury the lingering smell of fear.
As yet another play of destiny occurs, the cruelty of fate revisits the living.
Marionettes in place, a game of prey and predator unfold.
The mask worn to hide, awoke and gnawed to replace what was once truth.
Still, with the oath in place, the soul re-remembers the sight of what is.
If the chains are now one with the soul and the false is the skin of the real,
Moans of distress and rebellious heartbeats shall be heard.
A burning path will be written with the agony and the spitted howls of the heart.
Victory shall give a befitting answer.
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