Tag: YouTube creator

A couple of days ago, I was looking through some of the things I’ve created over the last few months, and I realized something.

I have spent a lot of my life thinking I was starting over.

Another idea. Another project. Another platform. Another attempt at figuring out what the hell I’m actually trying to build.

But lately, I’ve been looking backward instead of just looking at whatever I’m working on next.

And I don’t think I was starting over at all.

I was getting better.

The proof is everywhere now.

It’s in the difference between the first books I made and the books I’m making now. It’s in an old lo-fi YouTube channel I once tried to build and the new one I’m creating today. It’s in the blog you’re reading right now. It’s even hiding in forgotten accounts and tiny commissions that once felt completely disconnected from everything else.

Apparently, all those random things I kept trying weren’t as random as I thought.

The First Version Wasn’t the Final Version

One of the easiest places for me to see this growth is in my books.

When I started creating Finny the Fox, I was mostly focused on one thing: finishing the book.

I was learning KDP, figuring out formatting, creating illustrations, fixing margins, understanding covers, dealing with print requirements, and discovering approximately 847 different ways a book file can decide to ruin your evening.

And I finished it.

At the time, that was the win.

But the more I created, the more I started noticing things I wanted to improve. The illustrations could be more consistent. The characters needed a recognizable style. The pages could feel more polished. The whole thing could look less like my first attempt and more like the world I had actually imagined in my head.

So I went back.

Finny got rebuilt. Rosie became consistently Rosie. The characters became more expressive. The environments got richer. The books started feeling like they actually belonged to the same little world.

The difference between those early pages and what I’m creating now is honestly kind of wild.

And here’s the part I would’ve missed if I hadn’t looked backward:

The first version wasn’t wasted work. It taught me how to make the second version better.

I couldn’t have made the improved version without making the imperfect one first.

From Fighting With One Book to Publishing Three in One Day

Here’s another way I know something changed.

Not that long ago, getting one book through the entire process felt like a major event.

There were files to fix. Covers to resize. Margins to argue with. KDP warnings that made me question every decision I’d ever made. And every time I thought I had finally figured it out, something else seemed to pop up.

Then, this month, I published three coloring books in one day.

Midnight Intuitions. Neon Horizons. Somewhere I’ve Never Been.

Three completely different worlds. Three finished books. One day.

I don’t say that because I suddenly became some kind of publishing wizard. I still screw things up. I still have to go back and fix things. And apparently I edit things enough that WordPress literally gave me a “Perfectionist” achievement this morning. 😂

The difference is that things that once stopped me are becoming things I know how to solve.

And the really weird part?

I looked at my KDP dashboard this morning and realized I now have nine books in my account.

Nine.

I started this current publishing journey at the end of July. As of this morning, my estimated royalties since July 26 are $49.53.

Am I retiring on $49.53? Absolutely not. 😂

But that’s not really the point.

A couple of months ago, there were no nine books. There wasn’t almost $50 in book royalties. There wasn’t a publishing process I understood well enough to repeat.

There was just me trying to figure out how to get the first damn thing finished.

Small numbers look very different when you remember they used to be zero.

Apparently, I Didn’t Quit Lo-Fi Either

Long before The After Hours Dreamer Lo-Fi existed, I had another YouTube channel called The Lo-Fi Vibe Cafe.

I made videos. I experimented with cozy scenes and background music. I tried to figure out YouTube. And eventually, like several other things I’ve tried over the years, I stopped working on it.

For a long time, I would’ve filed that under another thing I started and didn’t finish.

Except apparently… I wasn’t finished with it.

Because here I am again.

Only this time, I’m not just making random lo-fi videos.

I’m building music and ambience around worlds I’ve already created. Ciderleaf Hollow can exist as a book and as a place you can wander through for an hour. Somewhere I’ve Never Been can be a coloring escape and a dreamy liminal space playing on your TV while you work. Neon Horizons can live on paper and become a synthwave drive from midnight to dawn.

And somewhere along the way, I learned how to make all of this myself.

I’m learning how to create the visuals, animate scenes, build loops, edit the videos, make thumbnails, work with music and ambience, and turn everything into something that actually feels like the world I imagined.

That’s a skill I don’t have to keep paying someone else to provide.

The first video costs time and learning. The next one costs less time. Eventually, you’ve built your own production system.

When I look at The Lo-Fi Vibe Cafe now, I don’t see a failed YouTube channel.

I see practice.

The Tiny Numbers Count Too

The same thing has been happening in places I almost forgot about.

Recently, I logged back into an old Benable account I hadn’t paid much attention to in a long time.

Sitting there was $60.58 in payout-eligible commissions from recommendations I’d made over time.

That one surprised me.

Not because $60 suddenly changes my life, but because it was proof that something I’d experimented with years ago had actually worked.

Then this week, I checked my Amazon Associates account.

$0.40.

Forty cents.

And yes, I was excited about forty damn cents. 😂

Because behind that forty cents was something much more interesting: someone clicked one of my links, bought something, and a commission came back to me.

The system worked.

That’s why I want to document these numbers now, while they’re tiny.

I’m showing you the $0.40 before I ever get to show you the $400.

If this thing grows someday, I don’t want the beginning of the story to disappear.

Maybe None of It Was Random

For years, I looked at all these things as separate attempts.

Pinterest. Affiliate marketing. Lo-fi videos. Digital products. Books. Blogging. Random creative ideas that grabbed my attention for a while before my brain wandered somewhere else.

Every time I moved on to something new, I thought I was starting over.

Now I’m starting to see the thread.

I was learning how to create things.

I was learning how to publish them.

I was learning how people find things online.

I was learning about links, traffic, search, audiences, branding, design, analytics, and all the boring little pieces nobody sees when they look at the finished product.

Even my day job has been teaching me things I use here. I spend my days working with data, spotting patterns, solving problems, organizing processes, and figuring out why something isn’t working the way it’s supposed to.

Then I clock out and somehow those same skills follow me into the dream.

The projects changed.

The dream didn’t.

I wanted to create things I cared about. I wanted to share them with people. I wanted to build income that belonged to me. And eventually, I wanted to build a life with more freedom in it.

Apparently, I’ve been working toward that for a lot longer than I realized.

You Might Not Be Starting Over Either

Maybe you’ve got your own graveyard of abandoned ideas.

The Etsy shop you stopped working on. The YouTube channel with six videos. The blog you started three years ago. The business idea sitting in a notebook. The hobby you got obsessed with for six months and haven’t touched since.

Maybe some of it really wasn’t for you.

But maybe some of it wasn’t wasted either.

Maybe it taught you something you’re going to need later.

I don’t know where The After Hours Dreamer will be a year from now. I don’t know whether my nine books become ninety, whether forty cents becomes four hundred dollars, or whether this little blog ever becomes something big.

That’s why I’m documenting it now.

Not after I’ve figured everything out.

Now.

While the numbers are small.

While I’m still learning.

While I’m still building this thing after work, one finished thing at a time.

Because if I’ve learned anything from looking backward lately, it’s this:

Sometimes what looks like starting over is really just starting again with more experience.

And that’s not the same thing at all. 🌙