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| Photo copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. |
In lieu of a such a third-party platform, I've decided simply to post our PayPal account button on the Tumblr site that functions as The Interstices. It doesn't have Patron's jazzy interface, nor a "rewards" program for specific monthly donations. Nonetheless, I can and will commit (have already, in fact, and for nothing but my own interest in telling my stories from my own point of view) to the following: To the extent practicable, I'll continue with the pattern I've maintained over the last month. That means roughly a week and a day of my sort-of-but-not-really-fiction, serialized as I've been writing it, followed by a week and a day of photography. The photography periods are designed to give my spirit a break from what lies deep within my family's history, and also to bring light to another space that I inhabit, that of the natural world here, where I live now. Folks have all the same options they'd have with any other platform: Donate nothing at all, and still have access to what is frankly good writing, unique storytelling, and unusual imagery; make a one-shot donation when the whim strikes; or make a recurring donation to help provide a regular enough cushion to permit me to take the time away from my regular work to write.
I'm not sure most people understand what my writing is. Most of what I do is perforce nonfiction, and much of that is woven with autobiographical themes. At The Insterstices, however I allow Thunderbird to stretch her wings. I've had these stories in my head, in my heart, from childhood, with no way to get them out into the light of day. I also realized, early on, that I would never be able to allow them out in literal terms, and so names are changed, places are altered, time is expanded and/or telescoped in some instances, at least as often to protect the guilty as the innocent. In the process, it becomes a wok of creative non-fiction combined with speculative fiction to create what the literary types call magical realism. Ironically, the "magic" is often the most "real" part of the story. That's not unusual; what is unusual is treating it matter-of-factly. But it's always been a part of me, of who I am and where I come from.
I also don't think — no, I know — that people understand the how of my writing. It's one of the reasons that I take the photographic breaks, because the process is entirely organic, but by the same token, extremely wearing. It comes from very deep places, some of them dark, some them too well hidden for too many generations. It comes from a well of memory, personal and ancestral, one that is saturated with sensation and emotion, nearly tangible in these three dimensions when I choose to revisit it. And so when I write each segment, there is no planning, no drafting, no endless repetitive cycles of writing and editing. No. For those who've been following along thus far, each of the segments you've read? Each of those has been written straight through, off the top of my head (or perhaps better described, pulled from the depths of my heart and soul and memory) on that day at that time. There is no real editing; the story comes as it will. It makes for, yes, an organic process; it also makes for an abraded, sometimes even flayed, spirit as I draw on what's there and bring it out to paint the picture for others to see. In one sense, of course, I know that no ones cares; they either like it or they don't, and process is irrelevant. But I do want people to understand the amount of labor, physical and spiritual, that goes into what I write: This is not writing to some publishing-industry formula for quick commercial success, nor is it any attempt to produce something called "Lit-er-a-ture." So when someone donates to keep such segments coming, s/he is really donating for me to produce, quite literally, on the spot. I do. And I want people to understand that what they're getting here is not the result of endless (or even any) drafts and revisions; I genuinely do write this well straight through, at least when the story is this integral to my very being. I'm sure there will be people who think I should keep that to myself, but it's important for me to make sure that it's understood.
I'm not sure most people understand what my writing is. Most of what I do is perforce nonfiction, and much of that is woven with autobiographical themes. At The Insterstices, however I allow Thunderbird to stretch her wings. I've had these stories in my head, in my heart, from childhood, with no way to get them out into the light of day. I also realized, early on, that I would never be able to allow them out in literal terms, and so names are changed, places are altered, time is expanded and/or telescoped in some instances, at least as often to protect the guilty as the innocent. In the process, it becomes a wok of creative non-fiction combined with speculative fiction to create what the literary types call magical realism. Ironically, the "magic" is often the most "real" part of the story. That's not unusual; what is unusual is treating it matter-of-factly. But it's always been a part of me, of who I am and where I come from.
I also don't think — no, I know — that people understand the how of my writing. It's one of the reasons that I take the photographic breaks, because the process is entirely organic, but by the same token, extremely wearing. It comes from very deep places, some of them dark, some them too well hidden for too many generations. It comes from a well of memory, personal and ancestral, one that is saturated with sensation and emotion, nearly tangible in these three dimensions when I choose to revisit it. And so when I write each segment, there is no planning, no drafting, no endless repetitive cycles of writing and editing. No. For those who've been following along thus far, each of the segments you've read? Each of those has been written straight through, off the top of my head (or perhaps better described, pulled from the depths of my heart and soul and memory) on that day at that time. There is no real editing; the story comes as it will. It makes for, yes, an organic process; it also makes for an abraded, sometimes even flayed, spirit as I draw on what's there and bring it out to paint the picture for others to see. In one sense, of course, I know that no ones cares; they either like it or they don't, and process is irrelevant. But I do want people to understand the amount of labor, physical and spiritual, that goes into what I write: This is not writing to some publishing-industry formula for quick commercial success, nor is it any attempt to produce something called "Lit-er-a-ture." So when someone donates to keep such segments coming, s/he is really donating for me to produce, quite literally, on the spot. I do. And I want people to understand that what they're getting here is not the result of endless (or even any) drafts and revisions; I genuinely do write this well straight through, at least when the story is this integral to my very being. I'm sure there will be people who think I should keep that to myself, but it's important for me to make sure that it's understood.
I've never been good at this. Oh, I'm actually very good at writing. But I suck, terribly, at asking people to compensate me for the work involved. Too many years of internalizing the lesson that I am here to produce and be grateful for the opportunity, that "exposure" and "adjacence" and subsequent erasure of my ownership of what I create are more than sufficient reward for someone like me.
I'm done with that. I will write for myself, and if it's good enough for people to want to pay to keep it coming, I'll give them the means to do so. Otherwise, I'll write as I breathe, because I must, but with no commitments to anything but my own spirit.
So if you're so inclined: Support the voice and the view from the spaces between, here. And if you have no cash to spare, but like the work, you can always share the link regularly, with your endorsement.
Thanks.
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.
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