in my opinion, this one is my sickest and most extreme, happy reading. Love Dani x
Stara Author Notes
Much like the notes for “Rae” these ones are a bit mumbled and jumbled. Somewhere in these ones, someone is trying to get me to accept a situation as fair and equal when it isn’t. Life isn’t fair. I accept that part, so stop fucking traumatising me by trying to get me to call something fair and equal when it isn’t. It is a sucky, unfair and unequal situation under the best circumstances. The contributing circumstances only made it worse. But what really causes the trauma, is someone pressuring me into changing my views of it. It sucks. It isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair. Let’s even up the playing field a bit, by accepting that the person in question had an advantage placed over me. Then, instead of trying to convince me otherwise, let me focus on doing things that actually will lead to equality.
A few events brought me to writing “Stara”. Number one, when pregnant, I was told to have an abortion. Number two, the person who set up the vague resemblance of the job mentioned in the notes for “Welcome to New Edge Hill”.
As these are simple informal notes, I’ll deal with number two first. I’ve addressed the first one before, I can’t remember where and when but rest assured, I have done so and if you’re really that interested, google.
So basically, the person who threw a lot of obstacles into my path that helped create the shitstorm that occurred while writing “Rae” and even threw some obstacles in while writing “Rae” (because yeah, I didn’t have enough problems already) was rewarded with a share in a property we were both fixing up (apparently we were both equal because I was paid, he was paid on top of his share, can someone tell me how that is equality because I’m dying to know, that’s the part that still gets to me, I’m meant to accept it as equality as recently as a few weeks ago, it isn’t equal, it is shitty, let me accept that so I can move the fuck on). And of course, something like that is going to make me feel like shit. His father however. I grind my fucking teeth. Apparently, I should build a rocket and blast off from my past.
First of all, he’s giving his son the tools and rewards to throw obstacles in my path that mean I have additional problems and with them I’m a “worthless failure”. While dealing with the aftermath of the shitstorm that was my life while writing “Rae” I haven’t been able to deal with the residue of what happened to lead me to that point. Mainly, I would like to own my own house. I need a new Mac (plus software and equipment) to get my experimental stuff up and running again. And I would like to give my son the best chance in life by sending him to a public (private, if you’re in the USA) school and take him away on holiday. And the stability all these things offer. That’s what I really want. Some goddamn stability after dealing with all that shit thrown at me. These were the literal problems I had before the stuff between being sick and the shitstorm of “Rae”. As well as continuous lack of respect from returning to live in the UK at the age of 16 until now, recently, I don’t know. The nice and respectful people I’ve been meeting lately have been in large number.
The other stuff crept up, with the hounding and the total lack of fucking respect. You don’t notice it at first. You think people have good intentions. I did, at least. I don’t often think about the bad life part in a negative light. Yes, lots of horrible things happened, but I planted the seeds to escape. Those seeds have since been torched so I planted new ones. There’s only so many times I’m going to go around in the same fucking circles before I start being a bitch. And just maybe, if people like father and son would stop using the stuff that happened against me, a lot of which was beyond my control, I could find my stability faster and be less of a worthless failure and more of a person who has her life in order. That would be nice. An independent person treated with respect.
Every time this person would show me any sort of disrespect as I didn’t have a voice to speak up, I would add another paragraph to Stara. Or two paragraphs. Maybe three or four. Maybe three or four hand written pages. This story was written in one hundred per cent anger. How can someone be so cruel? And so nasty and then not even realise? Jesus-fucking-Christ. WTF is wrong with people? Would it really hurt other people that much if I was left to pick up the pieces of my life? Really? Does it affect them that badly that I’m not allowed to do it? Must I always be down and miserable? And an object? At least I was doing something constructive. Arguing hadn’t worked. Stuff like that doesn’t work for people who aren’t heard. I did try, every now and then to speak up again. It fell on deaf ears.
Eventually, I had a notebook of a story. It even went into a second notebook. I typed and edited in one weekend after someone had mentioned this cool new publisher to me. One of my friends went through it before I sent it in.
As already mentioned, while pregnant, I was told to have an abortion. Pregnant women are prone to nightmares. I have trouble with them as it is. I obviously had nightmares of abortion situations. I have no idea how actual abortions are performed. The way in which Stara was written didn’t leave any space for actual research. However, I do have some vocal pro-life friends, two of these to be precise. They sometimes post what I assume are misrepresentations of abortion on facebook. My sleeping brain took these as real abortion procedures. I had nightmares about abortion and late-stage abortion (I was already at the legal abortion limited in the UK when I was told to undergo the procedure despite carrying a healthy baby and nothing being wrong with me apart from general lack of respect and not having a voice) between being told that and writing Stara. I don’t have those nightmares anymore. One day all my nightmares will return to dinosaurs, The Wizard of Oz and the Cold War (hopefully no bees, wasps, hornets). I still don’t know abortion procedure. I don’t need to know. Any pregnancy, no matters how it ends, is a risk I’m not willing to take. There’s a lot of life that I missed out on, I’m not risking being sick again (or worse).
What was I listening to? It would have been the same as “Welcome to New Edge Hill” and “Toenails”. I didn’t remember much of anything until May 2017. The calm bit after the storm still sucks. I wandered around in a bit of a state of shock wondering who I was and what had become of all the seeds I planted to build up a life for myself all those years ago. I’m remembering now.
Traumatised? Clearly. But not from the bad life bit that led up to the “Rae” shitstorm. I’m traumatised from people not letting me pick up the pieces and harvest my seeds after I escaped from my mother. And again, after I relocated to Liverpool. The only traumatising thing is not being allowed to do what I need to do to get my life in order.
Am I going to continue moving forward? Obviously. And I will destroy anything that gets in my fucking way. I’ve had enough of going around in circles. It has been ten years since I graduated. My life should be further along the road than it is now. Anyone with a negative attitude or a lack of motivation can go project that elsewhere. I’m not dealing with it. I’m not an emotional punching bag.
Do I hate unstable people? No, but please don’t wrap me up in it. I’ve had enough of that to last me a lifetime. If I want to be as boring as watching paint dry, let me be. And I’m not actually that boring. I enjoy parties and random adventures as much as the next person, but I have responsibilities and a broken life to repair, so I can only do those things every now and again. For each crack I seal, I can do more and get out more. I want to keep moving in that direction. Your idea of fun might be different to mine. And I’m not going to put myself in a position to have another shitstorm, or around the sort of people that were in my life at that time. I am not a social worker. I can google the number for social services if anyone needs a referral.
We decide our own fates. Our pasts don’t define our futures. And people trying to change that belief in me has only pissed me the fuck off. We fix our own lives. So let’s play a little game called “stop using my past to keep me trapped in an endless loop and let me move on”. I’m always grateful for the useful actual help I receive. I resent the stuff that is disguised as help or presented to me as help when I can see every single fucking flaw with it, or stuff that will lead to instant gratification but more damage in the long run. There’s unfortunately a lot of that going around.
I have stuff to do so I can be less of a worthless failure and more of a person with her squirrels lined up (and not in the hair of 80s popstars). More books to write. More author notes to write (didn’t realise people like them that much). But not for a while. These ones were a bit draining, but worth it for the release offered. I have a novel I’m working on. I’m going to write that instead. I do believe the JEA books have author notes on their website. If not, move yourself over to the Press and Pictures section of this website and piece it together from the interviews (if I haven’t posted those author notes by the time you’re reading this).
Dani Brown, January 2018
Much like the notes for “Rae” these ones are a bit mumbled and jumbled. Somewhere in these ones, someone is trying to get me to accept a situation as fair and equal when it isn’t. Life isn’t fair. I accept that part, so stop fucking traumatising me by trying to get me to call something fair and equal when it isn’t. It is a sucky, unfair and unequal situation under the best circumstances. The contributing circumstances only made it worse. But what really causes the trauma, is someone pressuring me into changing my views of it. It sucks. It isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair. Let’s even up the playing field a bit, by accepting that the person in question had an advantage placed over me. Then, instead of trying to convince me otherwise, let me focus on doing things that actually will lead to equality.
A few events brought me to writing “Stara”. Number one, when pregnant, I was told to have an abortion. Number two, the person who set up the vague resemblance of the job mentioned in the notes for “Welcome to New Edge Hill”.
As these are simple informal notes, I’ll deal with number two first. I’ve addressed the first one before, I can’t remember where and when but rest assured, I have done so and if you’re really that interested, google.
So basically, the person who threw a lot of obstacles into my path that helped create the shitstorm that occurred while writing “Rae” and even threw some obstacles in while writing “Rae” (because yeah, I didn’t have enough problems already) was rewarded with a share in a property we were both fixing up (apparently we were both equal because I was paid, he was paid on top of his share, can someone tell me how that is equality because I’m dying to know, that’s the part that still gets to me, I’m meant to accept it as equality as recently as a few weeks ago, it isn’t equal, it is shitty, let me accept that so I can move the fuck on). And of course, something like that is going to make me feel like shit. His father however. I grind my fucking teeth. Apparently, I should build a rocket and blast off from my past.
First of all, he’s giving his son the tools and rewards to throw obstacles in my path that mean I have additional problems and with them I’m a “worthless failure”. While dealing with the aftermath of the shitstorm that was my life while writing “Rae” I haven’t been able to deal with the residue of what happened to lead me to that point. Mainly, I would like to own my own house. I need a new Mac (plus software and equipment) to get my experimental stuff up and running again. And I would like to give my son the best chance in life by sending him to a public (private, if you’re in the USA) school and take him away on holiday. And the stability all these things offer. That’s what I really want. Some goddamn stability after dealing with all that shit thrown at me. These were the literal problems I had before the stuff between being sick and the shitstorm of “Rae”. As well as continuous lack of respect from returning to live in the UK at the age of 16 until now, recently, I don’t know. The nice and respectful people I’ve been meeting lately have been in large number.
The other stuff crept up, with the hounding and the total lack of fucking respect. You don’t notice it at first. You think people have good intentions. I did, at least. I don’t often think about the bad life part in a negative light. Yes, lots of horrible things happened, but I planted the seeds to escape. Those seeds have since been torched so I planted new ones. There’s only so many times I’m going to go around in the same fucking circles before I start being a bitch. And just maybe, if people like father and son would stop using the stuff that happened against me, a lot of which was beyond my control, I could find my stability faster and be less of a worthless failure and more of a person who has her life in order. That would be nice. An independent person treated with respect.
Every time this person would show me any sort of disrespect as I didn’t have a voice to speak up, I would add another paragraph to Stara. Or two paragraphs. Maybe three or four. Maybe three or four hand written pages. This story was written in one hundred per cent anger. How can someone be so cruel? And so nasty and then not even realise? Jesus-fucking-Christ. WTF is wrong with people? Would it really hurt other people that much if I was left to pick up the pieces of my life? Really? Does it affect them that badly that I’m not allowed to do it? Must I always be down and miserable? And an object? At least I was doing something constructive. Arguing hadn’t worked. Stuff like that doesn’t work for people who aren’t heard. I did try, every now and then to speak up again. It fell on deaf ears.
Eventually, I had a notebook of a story. It even went into a second notebook. I typed and edited in one weekend after someone had mentioned this cool new publisher to me. One of my friends went through it before I sent it in.
As already mentioned, while pregnant, I was told to have an abortion. Pregnant women are prone to nightmares. I have trouble with them as it is. I obviously had nightmares of abortion situations. I have no idea how actual abortions are performed. The way in which Stara was written didn’t leave any space for actual research. However, I do have some vocal pro-life friends, two of these to be precise. They sometimes post what I assume are misrepresentations of abortion on facebook. My sleeping brain took these as real abortion procedures. I had nightmares about abortion and late-stage abortion (I was already at the legal abortion limited in the UK when I was told to undergo the procedure despite carrying a healthy baby and nothing being wrong with me apart from general lack of respect and not having a voice) between being told that and writing Stara. I don’t have those nightmares anymore. One day all my nightmares will return to dinosaurs, The Wizard of Oz and the Cold War (hopefully no bees, wasps, hornets). I still don’t know abortion procedure. I don’t need to know. Any pregnancy, no matters how it ends, is a risk I’m not willing to take. There’s a lot of life that I missed out on, I’m not risking being sick again (or worse).
What was I listening to? It would have been the same as “Welcome to New Edge Hill” and “Toenails”. I didn’t remember much of anything until May 2017. The calm bit after the storm still sucks. I wandered around in a bit of a state of shock wondering who I was and what had become of all the seeds I planted to build up a life for myself all those years ago. I’m remembering now.
Traumatised? Clearly. But not from the bad life bit that led up to the “Rae” shitstorm. I’m traumatised from people not letting me pick up the pieces and harvest my seeds after I escaped from my mother. And again, after I relocated to Liverpool. The only traumatising thing is not being allowed to do what I need to do to get my life in order.
Am I going to continue moving forward? Obviously. And I will destroy anything that gets in my fucking way. I’ve had enough of going around in circles. It has been ten years since I graduated. My life should be further along the road than it is now. Anyone with a negative attitude or a lack of motivation can go project that elsewhere. I’m not dealing with it. I’m not an emotional punching bag.
Do I hate unstable people? No, but please don’t wrap me up in it. I’ve had enough of that to last me a lifetime. If I want to be as boring as watching paint dry, let me be. And I’m not actually that boring. I enjoy parties and random adventures as much as the next person, but I have responsibilities and a broken life to repair, so I can only do those things every now and again. For each crack I seal, I can do more and get out more. I want to keep moving in that direction. Your idea of fun might be different to mine. And I’m not going to put myself in a position to have another shitstorm, or around the sort of people that were in my life at that time. I am not a social worker. I can google the number for social services if anyone needs a referral.
We decide our own fates. Our pasts don’t define our futures. And people trying to change that belief in me has only pissed me the fuck off. We fix our own lives. So let’s play a little game called “stop using my past to keep me trapped in an endless loop and let me move on”. I’m always grateful for the useful actual help I receive. I resent the stuff that is disguised as help or presented to me as help when I can see every single fucking flaw with it, or stuff that will lead to instant gratification but more damage in the long run. There’s unfortunately a lot of that going around.
I have stuff to do so I can be less of a worthless failure and more of a person with her squirrels lined up (and not in the hair of 80s popstars). More books to write. More author notes to write (didn’t realise people like them that much). But not for a while. These ones were a bit draining, but worth it for the release offered. I have a novel I’m working on. I’m going to write that instead. I do believe the JEA books have author notes on their website. If not, move yourself over to the Press and Pictures section of this website and piece it together from the interviews (if I haven’t posted those author notes by the time you’re reading this).
Dani Brown, January 2018
