Thoughts on Your Masterpiece, and a Thank You

Hi giraffes,

As a kid living in a weird English village, I was generally allowed to just wander around all day. (We spent the rest of our time smoking pipes and running from tigers.) One day I ended up in the village library. I hadn't read much back then, and what I had read I barely understood. For whatever reason, that particular day, I walked out with a copy of The Lathe of Heaven by Ursula K. Le Guin. It blew my mind: broken realities, warped physics, all that jazz.

I read some more of her stuff later on. And that blew my mind too. I decided that sci-fi was where it was at and assumed everyone wrote as amazingly as Ursula Le Guin. They did not. She was a very rare gem, and it took me years to realise it.

When people are really making art from the heart, I think you can tell. And if you enjoy that person's art, you start to feel a bit like you know that person - even if you've never had a conversation with them, and probably never will. And you sort of feel like you have a kinship with them. 

So when she passed away last week, I finally understood why people get upset about public figures they've never met having the nerve to leave the planet. They shaped your childhood, altered how you saw the world, held up the torch in the dark, and had no idea you even existed. 

If you've enjoyed my stuff, then you should know that most of it was largely inspired by her books, and is really just a shit attempt to grab at the bar she set impossibly high decades ago. So I think we can be quite safe in assuming that if you haven't read her work yet, you will enjoy it. The Left Hand of Darkness  and The Dispossessed are my favourites, and I'm certain they'll both be read long after you, me, and the next few generations have gone back to dust. 

To conclude all this gushing: the world was a better place for having her in it, and will be a lesser place for her leaving. Give her stuff a chance if you haven't already; there are whole worlds to explore. 

In her words: “Children know perfectly well that unicorns aren’t real, but they also know that books about unicorns, if they are good books, are true books.” 

We lost another of the greats about ten years ago, Arthur C. Clarke - also a hero of mine. In a bit of a sad mood about this death stuff, I found a video of him saying a final goodbye, knowing the end was near. It's not too easy to get through without someone...chopping...onions...nearby...

What always blows me away about the people who turned out to be amazing artists is that they didn't know they would be amazing artists. They were just working on their shit in their attics, in their sheds. And because they loved what they did, and because they were generally unusually wired or whatever, they happened to create fantastic stuff. 

A question I keep getting in emails is: How should I pursue X? 

The first mistake here is assuming that I know anything about anything in the first place, but I will tell you a vaguely relevant story that I hope might put the problem to bed. 

Vaguely Relevant Story That I Hope Might Put the Problem to Bed: 

Some years ago, a friend of mine wanted to learn the piano. I play a bit so I said I'd give him lessons. Sure enough, he bought a piano. A few weeks passed and then I went over to his place to get started. He said he was already well into it, and knew all about scales, and flats and sharps, etc, and had read a bunch of books about music theory. 

"Great!" I said. "So, what can you play?"

He replied that he hadn't actually touched the keys yet. 

The piano had dust on it. 

I can't remember what I said, but I don't think it was very polite. 

You can see the issue. All theory and no practice. 

It's easy to dive into theory, where there are no mistakes or sharp corners. It's also a great way to improve at fuck all. 

The one thing I'm quite sure all the Greats had in common was that they certainly knew lots about their crafts, and had mastered the techniques, but their love of it came first. Everything else followed from that. I am a firm believer that it's love of something that precedes all else. The rest follows naturally, from passion.

I never thought I'd be making videos online. Now, I'm not massively proud of most of it, but I can safely say that as of the time I started doing it as a job, I haven't worked a single day since. Because it isn't work. Some days a script doesn't work, or you're a hair's width away from giving up, but you don't. Because you love doing it, ultimately. Maybe you have stuff you enjoy and happen to be living off of also, and have found the same thing. 

So, if I was going to play as a shit guru for a moment and answer the question, I would say fuck perfecting technique until you've found that thing that lights you up. Once it's found, technique, practice, time-investment, motivation, it will all spring naturally from loving the activity itself.

When you met your best friend for the first time, you didn't force yourself to hang out with them, or lend them money, or listen to their problems or whatever. You did it naturally. Because they were your best friend. 

 I do hope that helps. 

A Bit More Housekeeping, and a Somewhat Important Notice: 

Outside of YouTube, I'm also supposed to be finishing academic stuff. I never actually thought YouTube would take off, and had planned to go down the PhD route, and hopefully end up in an office somewhere, drinking coffee, petting the cat a bit, and refreshing Reddit. As of the next few months, I'm going to have to try to finish all my academic stuff. That means probably only one video a month for some time now. I intend to make them a bit more long-form, and go deeper into whatever dumb subject it is, but I just don't have the time to put out two a month. Even at my amateurish level of editing, it still takes 10 or so days to get stuff out, and that's after the script is done, if it works.

If one a month is too little for you, there certainly won't be any ill-feelings on my side if you won't be supporting my stuff on Patreon any further. I get it entirely. To be honest, I'm amazed you've supported my bullshit at all. If this is indeed you saying thanks and goodnight at this point, then please just know that you have nothing but my everlasting gratitude for your kindness, and that I couldn't have kept this up without your support. Cheers for everything, and please be sure that you made a massive difference. And to everyone else, the above also applies and cheers again, of course. 

In a roundabout way, the opening of this message was about death, so I'll end it on that note too. (Wahhhhhey!) I bet some of you like The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I do too. 

Well, you might remember a special watch one of the characters had. When she turned it on, it made her think her arm was broken. She called it a 'pseudo-fracture', I think. She said it made her work a lot easier, because she thought she's at a disadvantage. Well, it's amazing how motivated some people get when they're close to death and they know it, Steve Jobs, for example. But it'd be great if we could feel that all the time, without actually being terminally ill. 

I say the next bit without any intention of bumming you out, but: I'm afraid we are all terminally ill, it's just the timescale that differs. I regularly slip into periods of not giving a shit about Big Life Stuff, as I'm sure you do; because life feels infinite from where most of us are sitting. Unfortunately it's quite far from infinite. And while I obviously wish you a super long and super healthy life, there isn't infinite time to line up all our ducks. Whenever I'm feeling unmotivated, that thought generally gives me the kick up the arse I need to get everything in gear. And I sincerely hope it works for you too. 

Some time ago no one knew who Ursula K. Le Guin was. They do now. They will for a long time yet, despite her passing.

If you're working on your masterpiece in your attic, in your shed, on your laptop, and you're having a hard time, and you hate all your stuff, and you can't imagine anyone ever taking you seriously, please remember that these thoughts are not original. Everyone you've ever respected, anyone who ever did anything of worth, had these exact same thoughts too. And they went on to create amazing art.

These aren't my words, but I mean them: I wish you more than luck. 

Thank you enormously for the support. I hope you're all doing ace, and that you had a spiffing January,

All the best as ever,

Ex. 

P.S. - The Destroyer of Worlds is doing well. I have attached a photo of our daily routine for your enjoyment. Every video is edited with her snoozing on my lap, waking occasionally to check the world is still there, then going back to sleep. I like this arrangement. I think she does too.