Methodologies
The why behind the archive.
In this category, “fanmade” does not mean fandom-centered. It means I am approaching a subject as a devoted reader, watcher, researcher, or admirer rather than as an authority. These newsletters are where I think through the concepts I keep returning to, whether that is art history, human psychology, autobiography, or some other subject that has become part of my hobby life.
These pieces are often reflective, interpretive, and open-ended. I might write about what I see in a work of art, how an idea lands in my own life, or how a subject is shaping the way I think and create. They are less about delivering final answers than about documenting fascination in motion.
Fanmade stories let me enter a world that already has its own logic and emotional weather. From there, I can stay with characters longer, shift them, deepen them, love them differently, or let my own original characters move through that space beside them. A lot of this work is playful, intimate, and often queer, because those are the kinds of stories I most want to spend time inside.
Because the setting already exists, I can spend more of my energy on character arcs, emotional pressure, and the shape of a life inside that world. I love epics, backstory, and the larger journey of who someone becomes, so fanmade fiction gives me room to test those things without needing to build every wall from scratch first.
Original newsletters are my month-to-month entries. They are usually short, personal, and reflective, centered on the parts of my life that feel most worth recording: hobbies, thoughts, routines, disruptions, and the moments that stayed with me after the month was over. I tend to keep them upbeat, but I do not avoid seriousness when life asks for it.
These are the most direct pieces on the site. There is no borrowed frame, no outside universe, no conceptual mask between me and the page. This is where I speak plainly, tell the truth as I understand it, and use the archive the way other people might use social media, except more slowly, more intentionally, and more privately.
Original stories are the deepest part of my storytelling. These are worlds I may have lived with in my mind for months or years before writing a single scene. They are lower in quantity and much higher in labor, because everything has to be made by me: the people, the rules, the history, the emotional logic, and the world that holds them.
Original fiction asks more patience from the reader because there is no shared universe to lean on. The world may already feel fully established to me long before it is fully legible to someone else. That gap is part of the experience. These stories do not inherit care; they have to earn it, and when they do, the reader is meeting something that is wholly, unmistakably mine.
This site exists to keep a record of what I have learned, wanted, and made. I am not building toward marketability or trying to present a polished “best of” self. I am leaving a trace: a body of work that says I was here, I cared about these things, and I kept going.
Fanmade and original are not value judgments. They tell you what kind of relationship a piece has to its source material: whether it grows from a world or concept already in circulation, or whether it begins entirely with me. The categories help you understand what kind of experience you are stepping into, not which kind matters more.
I can think about the same concerns in either form, but the forms carry them differently. In newsletters, I am direct, reflective, and honest in my own voice. In stories, I do not explain myself outright; I let characters move through the questions I have been living with, so meaning arrives through action, pressure, and consequence instead of declaration.
The four zones stay separate because they do different things for both writer and reader. Fanmade work begins from a shared frame, whether that means a known universe or a familiar topic. Original work asks for more trust and gives more of my unfiltered self back in return. Keeping them apart helps readers choose the kind of intimacy, effort, and context they want.
This archive is not only a container for finished pieces. It is also a record of how I change. Later notes, afterwords, and returns to older work matter because learning matters. I want the site to hold not just what I made once, but the layered way my thinking keeps wrapping around itself over time.