Just Another Update from Delta (And Real Talk)

Hello everyone. So, just a quick little thing about how things are going. I can sum it up in one word: Superbadlyasstacularwhydidthishappentomeohmygodsonofabitch. 

For those of you who weren't in the know (Which I'm fairly sure is everyone, really), I got a new computer. Yay on that front. But, in the process of transferring all my writing from one machine to the next, somebody (I won't mention names, but he's a handsome guy who writes things) done goofed. Said (extremely attractive) person managed to get all of my work corrupted through power I can hardly imagine (perhaps he was, quote, "Too sexy for that data", unquote). Long story short: I lost everything I had currently in progress, which consisted of two (2) updates to Night Seven and one (1) update for Just Another Night at Fazbear's Fright. So while I was trying to find solace from this emotional turmoil by finding the most irritating videos online and sending them to my friends anonymously, I realized we're slowly encroaching on nearly one year of Just Another Night. And while I've barely managed to beat Scott himself in installments released during the first few months of a title's existence, it reminded me about something I really struggled with early on (and here's where the Real Talk comes in). 

Way back in the fond days of the FNAF fandom where I was right, damn it, I was incredibly in the closet about writing Fanfiction. Now, no judgement to you fine folks, obviously I like Fanfiction or I wouldn't bother, but we can all agree that there is a certain stereotype to our interest: That they're all terribly written messes of fanservice, personal wish fulfillment, erotica, and we're all reading it in our Mom's basement taking shots off our inhalers and staring longingly at pictures of -attractive character of opposite (or same, but again, the stereotype) gender-. Now I'm clearly not at least most of those things (I like to think), but I was just so... afraid of other people immediately lobbing me into that category. I was afraid of judgement, but oddly I didn't care if someone didn't like my writing or if it was legitimately bad, I was afraid of being seen as that nerdy guy. To add an extra layer of irrational fear ontop of it, I'm an actor. I have dressed up in lederhosen (screw spelling) two sizes too small and danced around while belting out nonsensical German in front of over a hundred people for an entire week's worth of shows. I have forced myself to cry in front of people, opened up my deepest fears and heartaches to complete strangers for the sake of the performance.

So why did being seen as a Fanfiction writer make me so nervous? That's what I've been asking myself, and I realized around my April Fool's joke (still not sorry) that I shouldn't care. If people judge me based on what I'm proud of, they're the insecure people. They are the ones that are afraid of what people think of them, and they are the ones that won't share things they create with the world. They'll sit back, observe what others do, and judge them for it. And that's part of how the April Fool's thing came about. I had been getting hate, rather viscous stuff too. I realize this is a common thing for people to get when they put anything up for what can be the most supportive and most destructive audience: The Internet. Very hurtful things were said. But I decided to do what my family has done when faced with harshness. Be coarsely sarcastic and humorous, and make what should hurt tickle, and have a laugh about it. At their expense, because we're kind of assholes too (but we use our powers for mostly good).

In fact, I'll do it right now. I'll take some of my hate mail and do just that. I won't put their usernames because I don't want them to get hacked or something. Not out of the goodness of my heart, no sir, but out of fear the paper trail leads back to me. This Journal is sort of rambling at this point, so if you were here just to see what's up with me, then you could've stopped after the second paragraph. Alright, here we go:

"You suck." Dyson made a business out of sucking, and he's making millions.

"Ur bad and stop writing" As soon as you START.

"This story gave me cancer" Fantastic. You deserve it. Keep it as a free gift, from me to you.

"Who reads this sh*t?" You, apparently.

"I hope you know that this was a complete waste of time. I have no idea why I ever read this series." Views are views, pal, and you still contributed.

"Faggot." Faggot. Noun. A bundle of sticks used for fuel. What does this have to do with me?

"This story is gay" And it's legal everywhere now, bud, so JUST TRY AND STOP ME!

"Wow. Wow. You ruined it. It was going so good, but then you ruined it. You had SO much potential, (NOTE: He NEVER said what potential I "lost") but you wasted it. You've officially lost me as a reader" And you've officially lost my entire collection of f**ks to give.

"THIS STORY SUCKS ARIANNA/CHICA" "Hey, up yours, buddy!" -Arianna. Thank you, Arianna. Appreciate it.

And that's about all I can think of. 

So, I guess to close this... whatever this ended up being out, if you're embarrassed over something you like, don't be. It's who you are, screw anyone who can't accept that. If you're getting a lot of hate and what to stop enjoying it, try doing what I did. Make fun of them back. Post it for your followers to read. It can be like Mean Tweets, but with a lack of Jimmy Kimmel. Don't let it get to you. Turn the tables and use this pointless hate to create more things. If you know someone going through this (You're all artists on here, right? You have artist friends), share this advice. 

And be sure to keep one of these in your pocket:   I always carry one.

-DeltaV, Life Coach