Dandelyon's Worlds

Dandelion Fluff

Jerica flopped down in the soft grass, knocking the dandelion crown askew so one of the fragrant gold blooms blocked out part of the sky. She held the very first seed-head she’d seen this spring carefully in the sunlight, where it glowed with possibilities. She should make a wish, would make a wish, but which one?

The night before, the sky was clear, and she’d wished on the first star, and just as she’d wished, she woke to a warm, sunny day, this day, full of dandelions and the tiny white starflowers that poked out of the ground where the frost fairies had danced the winter away. There was breakfast too, not just scavenged dandelion leaves and old potatoes, but new-laid duck eggs roasted in the shells and a bit of the nanny goat’s milk after her wobbly black foal was full enough to fall asleep in the sun.

It wasn’t a big wish, of course, but big wishes on the first star in the night always went astray. First stars happened every night, or at least every night that they weren’t shrouded in clouds, and so they had little power past the night itself.

Dandelion seeds were also limited. The seeds didn’t normally travel far, so small, local wishes were more likely to succeed. A blessing for a roof to hold the weather off, or a bit of one’s garden to grow healthy, perhaps. But she could make many such small wishes later.

The first dandelion seeds in a year, however, those held more power. They were a promise for the future, and dandelions were tenacious and long-lived. Without a wind, they wouldn’t travel far, so if she wanted a big change, she would have to wish for something that might reasonably travel nearby, on the road or in the sky, or that might grow nearby. But if she chose wisely, it could change a whole season, and perhaps even bring opportunities to change her life.

She had so many daydreams, traveling to see the world, learning a trade, inheriting a proper farm from an unknown relative, learning she had secret magics. Other dreams were less practical, like finding a musical instrument and the ability to hold a tune, but for all that were perhaps more dear. Or maybe her childhood imaginary friend, a fae with huge green eyes and a ready smile, might turn out to be real after all. Of course, most of those things were too big, or too far away.

This was only a dandelion puff, after all.

The farm might be possible, but she didn’t know farming, just foraging. She set that possibility aside, even if it was more likely than most of her thoughts. Maybe she could obtain a bow and learn to hunt? Again, while possible, it didn’t seem like the right wish for her, for this year.
Jerica stared at the dandelion puff, still perfectly round, the seeds ready to take flight when she directed a proper breath at them. She could wish again, as she’d done last year, for a better supply of foragable foods and medicinals, of course, but she wanted something that filled her mind or her heart, not just her stomach. Or perhaps she just wanted something different.

A flash of purple caught her eye high in the sky, then flashes of green and gold and blue. Dragons. Jerica held her breath for a moment, her attention caught by their beauty as they soared and danced high above her, so high she couldn’t tell if they were wild or had riders. She’d always wondered what it would be like to ride a dragon, and look down on the world from so high.

Oh, but dragonriders were trouble, and wild dragons even moreso. But it was safe enough to admire them from afar, so long as they were just flying past on their way to somewhere else. Jerica lay there in the grass, the dandelion puff in her fingers forgotten, watching. It looked to her as if the blue, green, and gold dragons were showing off for the larger purple one. Might it be a mating dance?

She sat up suddenly, alarmed. It wasn’t safe to be near a brooding female dragon, not unless you were bonded to her. But dragons wanted people to help tend their nests, and that was a difficult and dangerous job. And here Jerica was, out in plain sight, the deep blue sky above her and not so much as a tree to hide under. She had to get out of sight before they spotted her.

A tiny wisp of white blocked her view of the green dragon, and Jerica looked in horror at the puff, no longer perfect and round. What had she been thinking?

As orderly as marching soldiers or knitting fingers, one by one the seeds took flight, spiraling gently up into the air. Toward the dragons. Of course they were. And the last few drifted around her before settling on the ground around her as if the breathtaking joy she’d felt at the dragons’ beauty were a wish and not merely a momentary distraction.

Jerica sighed and sat back down. The damage was done, the wish off and doing its thing. Running and hiding in the trees wouldn’t help now, and as the dragons flew closer and closer, she could see them so much better.

The blue one was long and sinuous, with lacy wings that almost looked like twists of the sky, dusted with the exact same colors as the few high clouds, whites and greys and that bright highlight where the sun hit just right that always reminded Jerica of the first hesitant flames rising up after a spark hit the finest kindling. Its eyes had the same firey gleam. It rode through the sky like a boat on the water, rocking gently through the air.

The green one was more solid, all craggy like a mountain or a boulder that had been smashed apart into long, unlikely shapes and left in the fog long enough to be covered by moss. As it drew closer, Jerica saw that its underside was smooth and brownish, while the upper was fuzzy, more like moss than she’d realized before, and strewn with tiny flashing gem-like flowers in soft whites and yellows. She imagined running her hand over its head, and wondered if it would be soft like moss or spiky and sharp, like the inside of the geode her grandmother had given her.
The gold one was longer than either of the others, coiling through the air without wings of any kind, its dozen or so long legs twined around it like a silver macrame cloak. Its large eyes flashed brightly, a coppery bronze color with unlikely green highlights, and it smiled as if the whole world was one huge, intoxicated party.

And the purple one was all feathers and fringes and embroidery, like a patchwork quilt made from all the lacy and frilly fabrics Jerica had ever imagined, but in the exact same shades of purple and lavender held together by fancy stitching in black, forest green, and all the prettiest blues. Her eyes were the purest swirly white and filled with mischief and joy.

And on her back was a fae with huge green eyes and a ready smile and a face Jerica remembered from her daydreams.



If you want to read my thoughts about using it as the start of a novel, you can head over to my Patreon, where I have a few more things to say about it. For a limited time, the post over at Patreon is open to the public.

If you enjoyed this and want to buy me a cuppa (hot chocolate, that is), you can use this paypal link.

kelkyag , not the only one to tease me that I still haven’t finished the series of stories that started with Feather-Blessed, asked: “How many serials do you want to have running at the same time?”

My plan was to do one. Fireborn. And really, one serial while doing other writing for publication is enough.

But then I found #FridayFlash, which stretches me in a different way. And part of me is still amazed that I can write whole stories (or at least enough of a story to be satisfying) in less than 1000 words.

So, why am I now (apparently) writing another serial?

The thing is, when I sit down to write, something mysterious happens. The words I put down are (mostly) simply not there until I start. Then, on good days, they just flow, each one shaped by the rest. And by other things, most of which are completely outside my focus-of-the-moment.

Fog and Lembas, for instance, was written in one sitting, as was Deep Dreams. Sure, I polished them a bit, afterward. But neither needed much. (I wish I could always do that. There’s other pieces I’ve spent a lot more time on, that aren’t as good.)

In both stories, I had no idea what I would be writing until I started. Consciously, anyway. I picked a name for a character and made the character do something, and kept going. Now, there’s all sorts of things I think about consciously as I go, once I have at least one character in a situation. But that starting point is mysterious to me, even though I can predictably start a story. Event though, frequently, I can’t predict what it will be about.

And 1000 words is so short! For me, anyway, this length emphasizes that there’s a multitude of stories to tell about any one character or setting.

But I was talking about the creative process, and writing serials. And a significant part of that is you. Your comments help me to know what’s working. And even better—sometimes they make me think. Long comments, comments like tigertoy made on the first of these feather stories, inform my thoughts about that story—and about subsequent stories too.

Feather-Blessed started similarly, with my commitment to write stories for #fridayflash, and no story written yet. No particular idea ready for writing in my conscious mind. So I made up a character, and gave her action—speaking to her friend, which then required another character. And suddenly, I had a backdrop, and characters, and a situation, things to work on using all the various storytelling skills that I’ve worked to acquire. And I wrote, and polished, and read it aloud, and posted it.

I didn’t plan a serial.

But then you commented, and asked questions, inspiring me with both your words and your pocketbooks. And I thank you for both.

The Rose and Bay awards have been founded to honor people participating in crowdfunded projects. This year, the categories are to be Fiction, Art, Poetry, Other, and Donor. They are being managed by ysabetwordsmith  and xjenavivex .  (They are each managing categories they didn't participate in in 2009.)

Anyone interested in any crowdfunded projects can nominate up to three projects per category.  That includes donators, artists, authors, and all readers/viewers.  So all of us are eligible to nominate our favorite crowdfunded projects or donors. 

The nominations are to be placed as comments in the appropriate post in the crowdfunding  community; I'm linking to the post for nominating crowdfunded fiction here.  Once there, you can check out the community to find the other posts, and other crowdfunded projects.

I'm really excited about this, and hoping it will lead to more people understanding what crowdfunding is.  I also hope it will help more people find crowdfunded projects that they can enjoy.

I expect the awards will evolve over time--for instance, I wonder if recorded music projects should have their own category.  I hope you will let us know (here, or on one of the posts in crowdfunding discussing the matter) what you as consumers of crowdfunded content would like to see in regards to these awards.

And I hope you'll consider making a few nominations!

Today, miintikwa posted Crowdfunding is not a zero-sum game.  I encourage you to go read it, though I'll add some additional thoughts related to her two main points here, because what she said was right on the money, but for more reasons and in more ways than she lists.

That post got me thinking.  There's so many ways that this is true--if you don't know game theory, the phrase "zero sum" means that the game has a winner and a loser, and the winner is ahead by the same number of points (dollars, goals, whatever) that the loser lost.  miintikwa is responding to people who were afraid she would lose patrons (and therefore money) if someone else in their circle of friends also did a one-card-draw.  One of the things she says is that the more people understand and accept crowdfunding, the more patrons there will be.  I think this is true.

The analogy to busking is very good here.  People who support musicians by tossing coins into the hat don't restrict their appreciation to only one busker.  And their actions make others more comfortable with showing their appreciation.  It's why musicians "salt" the hat or case--no patron has to think they are the first, or has to worry if they are guessing wrong about why the hat is there.  It removes some of the fear of doing something embarassing.

But the zero-sum language is apt for more reasons than that.  When you support a writer or artist here online, it isn't only about the money.  You have a bit less money and the artist has a bit more, true.  But also, you have the enjoyment of this work of art, and the expectation of more enjoyment in the future.  The artist gets feedback about which art her audience wants more of.   There's that personal connection--if you form a personal connection in a bookstore, it's with the store clerk or owner, not the writer or artist.  The owner of a small store will think of you when ordering books--but here, you can tell the writer directly what you would like to see more of.  That doesn't guarantee they will write it, of course, but as the repeated resurrection of Sherlock Holmes demonstrated, money can be a powerful motivator.

And that brings me to miintikwa 's other main point, and I'll quote:  "My skills are valuable, but I want to make them available to everyone."  What a wonderful, accurate, and succinct statement.  (Of course, that means I want to elaborate on it.)

In two parts.

"My skills are valuable..."

Everyone has skills that are valuable.  Everyone also needs to eat, stay warm in the winter, and so on.  Are my skills at composing business letters, organizing and filing and summarizing confusing piles of paper, ferreting out the points pertinent to the problem at hand, and obtaining more piles of paper to add to the file--is that really more valuable than my skills at storytelling and art?  If we go by a pure money standard, I'd have to say yes.  That has paid the bills for years, and probably will do so again in the future.

But my spirit rebels against that assessment!

In my heart, I feel my skills at art, at photography, at storytelling, at singing and playing instruments--my creative pursuits--are far more valuable, are more meaningful and important and vital not only to me, but to my society.

"...I want to make them available to everyone"

I want to find all the people whose lives I can make better, who I can gift with a smile, or a laugh, or that sensawonder feeling, or the relaxation and joy that comes from experiencing something beautiful and transcendant, or an insight that helps them solve a problem or transform their lives for the better.  I want to find them whether they hace a million dollars or barely two pennies to rub together. 

There's a place for concert halls, for sold-out performances, for book contracts--and don't get me wrong, I'll be very happy to get a book contract.  But there's also a place for busking, for performing where everyone can hear.

The hat is there because I do need money (everyone does).  But it is also there as an affirmation that I know my time and my skills are valuable. 

Also, even if no one uses the hat, it reminds me that I'm not just goofing off here, I'm working.  I'm working to make the world a little better, to cheer people, to give them a bit of rest from their woes or some bit of insight, in some small way to make their lives more beautiful and joyful.  Whether I get any monetary pay or not--I'm working.

If I can give you so much as a smile, then your day and mine are both improved.  And there's nothing zero-sum about that!

I'll add her post-script here too: crowdfunding and freestuffday are available communities to support if you want to be more active in these areas!

Though she doesn't use that word...

One of the things that Twitter is good for is recommended reading--finding blog posts by people you don't know, people whose blogs you don't want to read every day, but THIS POST you want to read.

I was amazed at how similarly this traditionally successful musician views crowdfunding to how I view it, though she didn't use the word Busking.  But she talked about her experiences as a "statue" with a tip jar, of having people thank her for the music, and give her money--and conversely, drive by shouting "get a job" and even throwing poo at her!  (Thankfully I never got that last bit while busking!  Maybe people have more respect for the muscial instruments than the artists--the people--doing the performing?)

I'll share a couple of quotes (in blue below), but the whole blog post is worth reading whether you like or hate her music. Even if you never heard of her.

listen.

artists need to make money to eat and to continue to make art.

artists used to rely on middlemen to collect their money on their behalf, thereby rendering themselves innocent of cash-handling in the public eye.

artists will now be coming straight to you (yes YOU, you who want their music, their films, their books) for their paychecks.

and

it’s also not a matter of whether an artist is starving or cruising on a yacht.

i would hate to see my fans turn on me once i actually have money in the bank with a “well, i would support you if you were starving, but now that you’re eating, no way.”

Writing (which includes rewrites, proofreading, research, and so on, and then if you're self-publishing, all the editing, formatting, and even html stuff) and music (which includes lots of practice as well as writing new material and the whole process of recording) and art (which includes rough drafts too, as well as needing expensive supplies, many of which are toxic or can ruin your clothes, rugs, and woodwork, and which requires scanners and other post-creative stuff too)...gosh, that sentence is too long!  Let's try again.

Writing, music, and art seem glamorous, but they are all a lot of work, a lot of time spent ignoring the good shows on TV, a lot of time spent pretending there are no good video games, a lot of practice and honing of skills, for what is often far less than minimum wage, if you compare the hours spent and the cash outlay with the cash inflow.

Yes, you get praise from your fans.  But you also get criticism.  You may, like Ms. Palmer, be repeatedly told to "get a ****ing job".  You will probably be told you're a talentless hack.  If you get publisher/music deal/art gallery, they get a substantial cut of the money fans pay for the product.  And so do any other middlemen involved in the process, the bookstores, the operators of the venues where you sing, ticketmaster, and so on. 

The artist whose work you love typically gets far less than half of the money you pay--unless you give it directly to the artist.

Think about that.

And remember that artists have to eat, and pay rent, and heat their homes, just like you. 

Do you want your favorite artists spending time on some day job, or do you want them making more art?

When it comes down to the bottom line, it's each artist's fans who make that decision. 

Just sayin' ... you got the power.

One of the secrets of busking, if you want to earn your dinner or pay some bills, is to find a good corner. Somewhere that the merchants won’t chase you away, where you and your audience won’t block traffic, and where people who like your special style of music will hear you. If you sing French folk songs, it probably won’t be effective to stand outside the local Mercado, or the local Rap club, for instance.

Cyberland is a little different. No, a lot different. Every corner is, theoretically, equally distant from every other corner. That's good, right?

Well, not really.

First, all corners are just one click away, from any site that has your url--but how many sites do?  And are they sites where people are looking for what you do hang out?  Just because all sites are equidistant, doesn't mean it’s easy to find the corners you’re interested in, from wherever you are.

So, it’s not as simple as picking a spot, opening the guitar case, and performing. You can’t count on someone’s shopping list or evening commute taking them past your corner.

So you go out and put your name and url places.  Then you try to figure out what's working. 

This is problematic too, for though I know there's tools out there, I don't know enough about them to use them efficiently.  I haven’t figured out how to use tools like visit counters—and don’t know if LJ is friendly to them. ( It’s not particularly friendly to PayPal buttons, which have to be pasted in with the screen in HTML mode, and even then usually don’t work the first time I test them, so I have to edit the entry and paste the code in again.) So, unless people leave a comment, I don’t know they’re here, and unless they tell me, I don’t know how they got here. So that makes it difficult to track what works and what doesn’t.  I did tell LJ I do want to know who looks at my journal, but if that feature is running yet, I haven't found it. I also don’t know what, if anything, it would tell me about non-LJ visitors.

That said, so far, Twitter, with the assistance of e-fiction book club, have allowed at least one new reader to find me, and places like Author’s Den and Blogspot have not yet produced results I can see, though that may not be a fair comparison, as I joined Twitter earlier.

So, my quest to figure out how to make my corner of the net a good corner for Cyber-busking is ongoing. You could help me a bit—you can answer this question:

When you’re bored and wanting to find something to read on the net, how do you go about looking?

And, of course, if you are more net-savvy than me, feel free to show off your knowledge as much as you want! 

If you were at DragonCon (lucky you!), or visiting relatives like me, and missed the chapter of Fireborn I posted Friday, here's a link:


http://wyld-dandelyon.livejournal.com/56518.html


And, just 'cause, a picture or two from my Aunt's yard.

And it's SO GOOD to be back using my own keyboard on a table that's not too high!

It was good to see family too, of course.


Oh, and for those interested, Elizabeth Bear talks a little about the donation-model of publishing, and calls it to busking in so many words, over in her journal.  She's matociquala on LJ.

Or, in the words of Pink Floyd - and Motley Crue - "Is Anybody Out There?"

Singing for your supper is a common theme in fantasy stories about bards; it might be cliché, but for anyone trying to make a living, or even to supplement one, on their creative endeavors, it is literally true. It’s not as simple to get cash from your paypal account to buy groceries as it is to sing and then sit down at the table and have the innkeeper bring your already-cooked food, but it’s the same principle.

But the cash is symbolic of more than just one’s daily bread. It is a tangible way that an audience lets someone know that their life’s work--the current performance, the carefully-crafted song, the story that they labored over, the hours spent on a painting or recording--was enjoyed. That your hard work, both in the moment and the years that led up to that moment, was appreciated.

One of the joys of live busking is that you get feedback. You see children’s eyes follow you as their parents walk by, you see people’s expressions change as they listen, and their feet tap in time to--you. You see the people who could have taken this train, or that one, but who lean against a wall or sit on a bench to listen to a few songs before continuing their day. Sometimes you even get applause. Other times you simply see that someone who arrived looking stressed and upset is smiling as they get on their train. (Of course, you also get people who think folk music is deadly boring, but hey, not even Mozart or Elvis could please everyone.)

And all of it, all of the positive feedback, subtle and overt, cash or applause or just a smile—all of the feedback feeds the artist’s soul.

Cyberland is different. You put out your work and then wait. It’s hard to tell if people are even reading your words. They could be smiling, even laughing out loud, or reading your story aloud to a friend or child, but unless they take a moment to leave a comment, the artist will never know it.

As readers, the feedback loop--there’s that feed word again! Once the artist posts their work, oh reader, the feedback loop is in your hands. In this economy, many people can’t afford cash. But other things feed the artist too. Your smiles, your laughs, your questions, your referrals to friends, all these things are welcome.

If you enjoy “free” fiction, or poetry, or music, or any artistic endeavor online, whether it’s my work or someone else’s, please take a moment, open that comment box, and let your fingers do the tapping. Even a single word lets the artist know they are not, in essence, singing on an empty El platform, with only the echo of their own voice to keep them company.

Busking in Cyberland is the continuing musings of the artist on her experiences with crowdfunding.  You can find the other entries here.

In the traditional publishing model, an editor and/or publisher act as a gatekeeper--letting some stories through the gate to the public, and not others.

In short, this means they decide if a story is good enough to publish.

But their decisions are based on more than that. They consider lots of other factors, for instance:

• Is this story by a big name author, who will prompt bookstore sales even if the story is mediocre?
• Have I already bought three werewolf stories this month?
• Does this story fit the theme of the anthology or tone of the magazine?
• Do I already have too many 8000 (or 800) word stories on backlog?

In other words, they reject perfectly good stories, stories you would love to read. Prizewinning stories get rejected too, often more than once, before going on to be published elsewhere, and win that award.

And, editors have never been perfect. Sometimes people throw published books across the room, wondering why any editor bothered with them.

In Cyberland, in contrast, you, Reader, are my publisher. You have the power to act as my gatekeeper. You have the power to tell people I’ve never met, when they’re sitting at their computers, bored, looking for something, that this is a good place to visit.

And if you do, I promise to try to make them welcome, and to tell the best story I can in that moment.

Oh, yeah, I should add a disclaimer: If you don't like my work, I recommend you don’t throw your computer across the room. I can offer no warranty, express or implied, as to the repairability of either computer or wall if they are thusly mistreated. Besides, you get an editor's privileges too--you can tell me what you think of my writing. And unlike the wall, I will listen. Also unlike the wall, I will likely comment back.

(Second disclaimer - the dumb computer crashed and I had to retype this. I'm not proofreading now, I wanted to be on the road already; any typos are gratis.)

For those who haven't been following me on LiveJournal, I am writing a story online, called Fireborn, and you're welcome to check it out: http://wyld-dandelyon.livejournal.com

I also have been posting about my gardening, with pictures, and most recently about busking.

Welcome!