Inside Half Pint Productions

Completely by accident! A coworker shared a song he’d made using Suno, and I thought it was incredibly cool. So naturally, I had to give it a try. My first masterpiece was called You’re a Rock Star.

It was terrible. :) I had absolutely no idea how to structure a song. I just wrote whatever came into my head, threw it into Suno, and hoped for the best. I sent it to a few coworkers who I thought were doing a great job, and that was pretty much it. I wrote a couple more silly songs, but then I started wondering if I could do something a little more ambitious.

I’d spent years working in the video game industry, including on City of Heroes, where I was known as War Witch. I had a lot of memories and stories from those days, so I thought, why not write an album about them? That became Chance of a Lifetime. It was really a love letter to the players and my former coworkers. An opportunity to let them know just how much they meant to me.

The players especially. They were such an incredible community, and they were loyal right to the very end. I wanted them to know that hadn’t been forgotten. I knew the audience for an album about City of Heroes would probably be pretty small, but I didn’t really care. It was something I wanted to do for them. And somewhere along the way, I discovered that I really loved writing songs. One thing led to another, and now here we are.

Oh man, everywhere! A memory, a conversation, something I read, something that makes me laugh, or something that’s been rattling around in my head for years. After Chance of a Lifetime, I wanted to explore the music of the ’80s. My husband and I love that era, and it gave me an excuse to revisit some teenage memories, relationships, heartbreak, and all those things that seemed like the end of the world when I was younger.

Then I started writing about more personal experiences. Losing my dad. Losing a beloved pet. Things from childhood. Some happy memories, some not so happy. For my ’70s-inspired music, I actually spent time learning how songwriting from that decade differed from the ’80s. I didn’t want to just slap a decade label on something and call it good.

And as for upcoming albums? Well, I’ve got a few ideas! In No Particular Order is exactly what it sounds like. I decided to stop giving myself so many rules and just write whatever interested me. With The Sky’s the Limit, I challenged myself to explore ten different musical styles I liked. Some were pretty unusual! Medieval rock, steampunk, cyberpunk, Egyptian-inspired music. I even made up a language for Valhalla.

Then there’s The Reading Room, which combines two things I love: books and music. And Altered States came to me in the middle of the night. I started thinking about dreams and realized there were so many directions I could take that idea. The dreams we have when we’re sleeping, nightmares, the things we hope to accomplish, the dreams that don’t quite work out. I keep thinking I’ve finally run out of ideas.

Then a couple of weeks go by, and suddenly I’m planning another album. Apparently, my brain didn’t get the memo.

Well, first I open Apple Notes on my iPhone. I know. Very high-tech. :) I’ve written lyrics at home, at Red Robin, while waiting for a nail appointment, and pretty much anywhere else an idea happens to strike. I don’t have a fancy writing studio or some elaborate ritual. If something pops into my head, I start typing.

Some songs almost write themselves. I’ve had first drafts come together in less than a minute. Others take an hour or more, particularly if I’m trying to tell a specific story or get something emotionally difficult just right. Once I’ve got the lyrics, I start working with Suno to figure out how I want the song to sound. That’s a whole other adventure.

Sometimes the first version is surprisingly close to what I imagined. Other times I spend quite a while experimenting with musical styles, instrumentation, and phrasing. I’m pretty particular about how my words are sung. If the phrasing is wrong, or the emotion isn’t there, I’ll keep working on it. I don’t sing, and I don’t play an instrument. The lyrics, the ideas, the storytelling, and the creative decisions are my part of the process.

Suno helps me turn those ideas into music I can actually hear. And when it gets something exactly right? Oh, that’s a wonderful feeling.

It clicks. I don’t really know how else to explain it! I can listen to version after version, and sometimes they’re good, but they’re not quite what I’m hearing in my head. And then I’ll hear one and think, “There it is!” It’s always been that way for me. When it clicks, I know. Sometimes that happens almost immediately. Other times it takes a lot of experimenting. But I know it when I hear it.

Sometimes Suno gives me two versions that both work, which is both wonderful and incredibly annoying. What am I supposed to do with THAT? Sometimes I keep them both. Masquerade has an alternate version that became a bonus track, and I’ve had other songs where I couldn’t bear to throw away a perfectly good take.

Other times, I have to be savage and choose the one that clicks just that much more. A Nearly Lived Life was one of those songs. I originally worried that one version was too long, although I’ve since learned that I don’t mind longer songs nearly as much as I thought I did.

The best part? These are my albums, and I get to make the rules. Pixels are free, right? ;)

Oh, that’s frustrating. I’ve gone through fifteen generations of a song and still had nothing that made me think, “THAT’S it!” At some point, I have to admit the problem might not be the fifteenth attempt. It might be the direction I’m giving Suno.

So I go back and reconsider the genre, the arrangement, or how I’ve described what I want. Sometimes I’ll try something completely different just to shake things loose. And more often than not, when I’m stuck, I discover the same thing all over again: rock nearly always solves the problem. ;)

Oh, absolutely. I’ve cried writing some of them. And then I’ve cried again when I heard them sung. There are songs I’ve written that I don’t think I could sing myself, even if I had the ability. I wouldn’t make it through the first verse! Sometimes writing about something is easier than talking about it. You can take a memory or a feeling that’s been tucked away for years and find a way to put it into words.

Of course, not everything I write is terribly serious. I love writing funny songs, too. I don’t particularly want to spend all my time making myself cry. :)

Mostly, I hope they enjoy it! I know that sounds simple, but that’s really where it starts. Maybe a song makes someone laugh. Maybe they love the story. Maybe it reminds them of something from their own life. When I write about something personal, I hope other people might recognize a little of themselves in it.

I’ve written about teenage love and heartbreak, losing someone you love, losing a pet, and experiences from childhood that can stay with you for a very long time. I’ve had people tell me that Rainbow Bridge made them cry because they’d experienced that same kind of loss. That means a lot to me. I also try to be careful about writing from my own perspective.

My sister once suggested that I write about something she’d experienced, and I explained that I could certainly write about how I saw it or how it affected me. But I couldn’t honestly write as though I knew exactly what she’d felt. Those are her experiences, not mine. I think that matters. At the end of the day, if someone hears one of my songs and thinks, “Oh, I know exactly what she means,” that’s pretty special.

And if they just think it’s a really good song? I’ll happily take that, too!

How much I enjoy it! I’ve written books in the past, and I’ve written them pretty quickly. I actually finished one in three months. Were they any good? Ehhh… :) But writing songs is different. I can come up with an idea, write the lyrics, and actually hear the result within a day. For someone who can be a little impatient, that’s nearly the perfect creative outlet!

There’s something incredibly satisfying about hearing something that started as an idea in my head become an actual song. I can’t really explain it. And then, if someone else hears it and it resonates with them? My gosh, that’s the best feeling in the world. I think the part that unnerves me most is the possibility that I’ve created something pretty special, something that might really mean something to someone, and nobody ever hears it. That’s a difficult thought.

But I keep writing anyway. I enjoy it too much not to.

Besides the ridiculous amount of money I spend on it? THE WAITING. I’ve finished upwards of nine albums, but I’m only at the point of releasing my fourth, Miles Before Today. I’m DYING for people to hear some of the directions I’ve gone musically. I’ve experimented with so many different styles, written songs I’m incredibly proud of, and I can’t share most of them yet! I have to wait. I. Hate. It. (Remember what I said about being impatient?) So what do I do?

I end up foisting my unreleased songs on unsuspecting friends and family, of course. ;) Hey, somebody has to listen to them!

It’s absolutely still a hobby! When I started, I was just having fun experimenting with a new technology. I certainly wasn’t thinking, “I’m going to become a songwriter!” But as I kept writing, the songs became more personal, and I found myself putting more and more time and effort into them.

By around my fourth album, I’d invested so much heart, sweat, and tears that I realized this wasn’t just something I was playing around with anymore. It had become something I genuinely cared about. But that doesn’t mean I want to turn it into a career. I love writing songs. I love coming up with ideas, experimenting with different musical styles, and hearing something I’ve imagined come to life. And I love that I get to do all of it on my own terms.

Songwriting will never NOT be a hobby for me. The second it starts to feel like work, I’ll stop. Now, would I love it if Kelly Clarkson called me up and said, “Heyyyyyy, yo, Melissa… think I could record one of your songs?”

I mean, I wouldn’t say no. ;)

Oh, boy. That’s a complicated one. For a long time, my immediate answer would have been no. I’m not a singer. I don’t play instruments. I use AI to help create the music, and I certainly don’t want to pretend otherwise. So where does that leave me? I’ve thought about that quite a bit. Someone pointed out that when synthesizers became popular, there were people who didn’t consider the resulting music “real” because someone wasn’t playing a traditional instrument.

And what about Auto-Tune? Does using technology to correct or change a voice suddenly mean someone isn’t an artist? Now, I know AI is different. It can do a lot more of the actual musical work, and I’m not dismissing that distinction. But there was another analogy that really stuck with me.

A pilot doesn’t personally perform every job required to get an airplane to its destination. There are mechanics, ground crews, air traffic controllers, and all sorts of people involved. But the pilot is still responsible for where that plane is going. That’s helped me think differently about what I do.

I come up with the ideas. I write the lyrics. I decide what kind of music I want, how the song should feel, how the words should be phrased, and whether the finished result is what I had in mind. Sometimes I go through quite a few versions before I’m happy. And if I hadn’t come up with the idea, written those lyrics, and made all those creative decisions, that particular song simply wouldn’t exist. Does that make me an artist?

I don’t know. I’m still struggling with that one. I think of myself much more as a Digital Creator. That feels like a better description of what I do. I’m a songwriter, too. I know that. The words, stories, and ideas are mine. But calling myself an artist? I’m not quite there yet. Maybe someday I’ll feel differently. Maybe I won’t. What I do know is that I’m creating something that wouldn’t exist without me, and I love doing it.

So for now, I’m comfortable being a Digital Creator. And I’ll probably just keep writing until I don’t have anything left to say.

Hands down, when someone tells me how much a song I’ve written meant to them. That tells me I’ve found a voice worth listening to. There are some songs I’m especially proud of, and interestingly enough, they’re usually the ones I struggled with the most. I’m a very private person. I don’t particularly enjoy putting my personal life out there for everyone to see.

So when I write about something painful from my past, I’m doing something that goes against just about every grain of my DNA! Some of those songs have been incredibly difficult to write. I’ve had to revisit things I’d much rather leave tucked away. But when I finish one, I’m proud of myself for having done it. For telling the story. For putting myself out there. And if someone hears it and tells me it resonated with them? That makes the whole thing worth it.

I’d love to tell you more about a few of those songs, but some of them haven’t even been released yet! So you’ll have to take my word for it. For now. :)

I’m petite, of course. ;) I grew up watching Little House on the Prairie, and Laura Ingalls was nicknamed “Half Pint.” It didn’t hurt that the actress playing her was Melissa Gilbert. Another Melissa! I loved that connection, and the name was too perfect to pass up.

Being vertically challenged has given me plenty of practice adapting. I’ve mastered hopping up onto the kitchen counter to reach plates and glasses, and getting into a Jeep Grand Cherokee can look like something out of an I Love Lucy episode. Small but mighty! Which, come to think of it, is also a song I wrote.

Oh, where do I begin? “When ChatGPT gives me a link that doesn’t work for 1,000, Alex.” ;)

There are the arguments with ChatGPT when I ask it to sanity-check lyrics I’ve written and it questions something because it doesn’t have the context. Then I have to explain WHY I wrote it that way, and suddenly it gets it. Or when my mind goes completely blank and I have to ask, for the trillionth time, “What rhymes with ‘go’?” And sometimes I only want ChatGPT’s opinion on an image, but instead it merrily generates another one. I didn’t ASK for another image!

Then there’s Suno mispronouncing a perfectly ordinary word or leaving one out entirely. I’ve actually rewritten lyrics phonetically just to get it to say something correctly. “No, Suno. It’s not ‘re-addy.’ It’s ‘reddy.’” Grok occasionally treats my instructions as optional, and I’ve spent an alarming number of video-generation credits only to discover some ridiculous mistake after the fact.

And don’t get me started on editing my Behind the Song videos. I ramble, so there’s always plenty to cut. I film in natural light, which means the sun can change the contrast halfway through, and talking to a camera still feels completely unnatural. I’m getting better. Slowly.

Oh, and there’s nothing quite like releasing a song you’re convinced people are going to LOOOOOVE… and then, crickets. Meanwhile, a video of my cat gets over a thousand views. That’s just off the top of my head. Ask me again tomorrow. I’ll probably have more. :)

It depends on the album. For Miles Before Today, I wanted a chronological feel, starting with memories of childhood in the seventies and moving toward more adult experiences, with music that reflected that era. Other albums are more about finding a good flow. I don’t want five songs in a row that sound too similar, but I also don’t want to give listeners whiplash by jumping wildly between styles.

I’ll sometimes ask ChatGPT to put on its music-producer hat and challenge my track order. We fight. :) Eventually I make the final decision, of course. And someone can STILL listen and say, “Good grief! Why did you put THAT song after THAT one?” Can’t win ’em all.

When you wear as many hats as I do, some of them aren’t necessarily going to fit just right.

Usually I have an idea of the feeling, setting, or era I want the cover to communicate. I want something that represents the music without giving away every surprise. Then I work with ChatGPT to explore visual directions and refine the details until it feels right.

My earliest covers? Oh, they were TERRIBLE. And ChatGPT had helped design them! The trouble was that it agreed with practically everything I suggested. I’ve since adjusted my preferences so it understands that I want an actual opinion, including when an idea isn’t working. We do better work when we can disagree.

Of course, there’s a special kind of frustration that comes from asking for one tiny change and watching the image generator completely lose its mind. Or asking, “Well? What do you think?” and getting a brand-new image instead of an answer. We’re working on that. ;)

When I released Chance of a Lifetime, I put the whole album out at once. And… not much happened. I realized that if I wanted people to notice individual songs, I needed to give them some breathing room. Now I generally release a song each week and leave a couple of weeks between albums.

I built a Google Sheets tracker to keep everything straight. Each song has a release date, and there are related videos and posts to coordinate. My current routine is Friday for the song and full lyric video, Monday for a music video if that song has one, Tuesday for a Song Moment, and Wednesday for Behind the Song. No routine Saturday post. I retired visualizers from the regular rollout because I didn’t want to overwhelm people with too many versions of the same song.

It’s a little ridiculous, really. I am NOT a patient person, and I have songs ready that I can’t wait for people to hear. So what did I do? I created a release system that makes me wait even longer. Apparently, I enjoy torturing myself. ;)

I use DistroKid to distribute my songs to places like Spotify, Apple Music, and Amazon Music. The first time I uploaded anything, I was terrified I’d get something wrong. I took screenshots of practically every screen and asked ChatGPT, “Is this right? What do I do here?” I think I may even have tried putting a WAV file where the artwork was supposed to go at one point.

It was a strange feeling, though, going from sharing a song on Facebook with my twelve friends (assuming they’re still speaking to me) to seeing my music on actual streaming services. It suddenly felt rather official. I still double-check everything, especially release dates and anything that might misrepresent the music, but the process is much easier now that I’ve done it a few times.

Carefully, and with a great deal of learning as I go! I write my own lyrics, and protecting those words matters to me. I’ve been working through the process of registering my lyrics for copyright protection. With more than eighty songs, I really wish I’d started about nine months sooner. Copyright exists when an original work is fixed, but registration gives you additional legal protections in the United States.

I also joined BMI, which handles certain songwriter performance royalties. Have I struck it rich? Well, at one point my music had brought in about $38, while I’d spent roughly $6,000 making it. So no, I don’t think I’m retiring just yet. ;) I’m not monetized on YouTube or my social channels, either. This isn’t about getting rich.

Then there’s The Reading Room, my album inspired by books. I had written these wonderful songs when my husband casually asked whether I needed permission from the authors. Cue panic. The legal question depends on whether a song uses protected material or merely draws inspiration from a work, but I decided I wanted to contact the relevant rights holders where permission might be needed. That has meant writing to authors, agents, publishers, and estates, including people connected with Lee Child, Matt Dinniman, and others. Jasper Fforde approved my song inspired by his Thursday Next books, and the E. B. White estate approved my Charlotte’s Web song. Dracula is in the public domain, so that one doesn’t require permission from Bram Stoker’s estate.

I’m still waiting on other responses. Because of course I am. And now I wait. Again.

Some songs practically BEG for a music video. They have a story or visual world I can see immediately, and I want to bring that to life. Others are so personal or emotionally raw that I don’t necessarily want to illustrate everything. Sometimes a lyric video is enough, and I’d rather let people connect with the words in their own way.

And then there’s the budget. If video-generation credits were free, I’d probably make a music video for everything! But they’re not. I pay for the tools I use, including Grok, and OpenArt can get expensive very quickly. So I have to choose which songs will benefit most from a full production.

When I started, I used Grok to generate short clips, often around ten seconds each, and then spent DAYS stitching them together, timing them to the song, and trying to make the whole thing feel intentional. Some clips were great, some were just okay, and some were… well, let’s say they had creative interpretations of human anatomy. I could spend three full days editing one video. It was probably my least favorite part of the process.

I eventually moved more of the generation work to OpenArt and its video tools. It lets me direct a larger visual concept and saves me a lot of manual assembly, although I still make the creative decisions, review the footage, and edit. The results can look terrific, but the credits add up, and AI still has an amazing ability to give a person six fingers or change someone’s age between shots.

I’ve learned to plan around what these tools are actually good at. Sometimes it’s better to fix a clip in the editor, use a different cut, or rearrange existing footage than to spend more credits generating something new. Less aggravation, fewer credits, and hopefully fewer extra fingers. ;)

I wanted to take advantage of Reels and YouTube Shorts. Think of a Song Moment as an amuse-bouche for the actual song. A little taste before committing to the whole meal. :)

I know asking someone to spend three or four minutes listening to a song they’ve never heard is a bigger commitment than asking them to watch a short clip. So I thought, why not give them a little piece of it? A Song Moment lets me share something interesting or catchy from the song, usually with a visual that helps set the mood. It’s also given me a chance to experiment with telling a story in a much shorter format.

Of course, I’m still learning what works. For example, I’ve discovered that taking one fifteen-second video clip, slowing it down to 25% speed, and stretching it over an entire minute isn’t necessarily the brilliant idea I thought it was. Apparently, people appreciate a little movement. Who knew? ;) Lesson learned!

Well, here’s how I look at it. Why would someone care about a song I wrote? I’m a very small fish in an enormous ocean of established artists, all competing for people’s attention. And I’m competing with people who actually sing their own songs, play instruments, or have entire bands behind them. So what have I got? Me.

I’ve got my experiences, my personality, and the stories behind the songs. I figure that if people get to know a little about me, why I wrote something, or what inspired it, maybe the song itself will become more interesting to them. That’s really why I started doing Behind the Song. It’s a way to share a little bit of myself alongside the music.

Interestingly enough, an overwhelming majority of the people listening to my songs aren’t followers. So I’m reaching people who don’t necessarily know anything about me. Maybe giving them a glimpse into the person behind the lyrics will help make that connection.

Is it comfortable? Oh, absolutely not. I’m a pretty private person, and talking to a camera still feels completely unnatural. But I’m getting better at it, and if sharing a little more about myself helps someone connect with a song, I think that’s worth doing. Even if it makes my teeth itch. :)

More than you’d think! For my lyric videos, I usually let DistroKid handle the creation. I supply the lyrics, synchronize them with the music so the words appear at the right time, and pay about $13 per song for the finished video. It’s one of those things I’ve decided is worth paying for rather than doing everything myself.

Once the video is ready, I upload it to YouTube. Then I write the description, which varies depending on whether it’s a lyric video, music video, Song Moment, or Behind the Song. Next comes the thumbnail, which generally involves an argument with ChatGPT. We’ve developed a particular style and template for my thumbnails, and for reasons known only to ChatGPT, it occasionally forgets the whole thing. We’re working through our issues. ;)

Then I add the tags, double-check the settings, and schedule the video for release. One thing I’m very particular about is identifying my music as AI-assisted. I always disclose that I use AI tools, including in my video descriptions. I’ve never tried to hide that, and I never will. I write my own lyrics and make the creative decisions, but AI helps me bring the songs to life. I want people to understand that.

I also organize my videos into playlists for each album. And then there’s the YouTube channel itself! I recently realized my homepage was getting WAY too busy. There were so many different videos for the same songs that it was starting to look cluttered. So I spent a weekend reorganizing everything, consolidating sections, and making it easier for people to find what they’re looking for. Much better! :)

Ugh. Do we HAVE to talk about this? This is probably the yuckiest part of the entire process. I’m the girl who HATES it when a salesperson walks up to me and says, “Hi.” My immediate reaction is, “Oh great. They’re going to try to sell me something.”

I hate being sold to, so naturally, that makes me a TERRIBLE marketer of my own stuff! I absolutely, positively hate this part of the process. I wish I had someone who LOVED marketing and promotion and wanted to handle all of it for me. For free, of course. ;)

I post my music on Facebook, X, Instagram, and TikTok, but I’m still not very good at it. I don’t want to be that person saying, “Ohhh, pleeeease listen to my song!” I want people to hear my music, but I don’t want to feel like I’m begging them to listen. It’s a double-edged sword, and frankly, I’m still struggling with it.

Mostly, I just post my releases and try to get the word out. I know there are tools that can automate a lot of this, but I haven’t gotten that far yet. Still a publicist of one! At least I can schedule my posts in advance so it doesn’t completely take over my day.

And when I start getting all persnickety about the whole thing, I remind myself that people aren’t exactly going to come knocking on my door saying, “Hey, have you written a song you’d like me to hear today?” If they don’t know about the song, or about me, they’re one hundred percent NOT going to hear it. So, like it or not, promotion is a necessary part of this hobby. Doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it. :)

Oh, THIS is the fun part! I work as a producer in the video game industry, so organizing things comes pretty naturally to me. I’m a natural checkboxer and organizer. Give me a list of things to do, and I’ll happily work my way through it. So yes, OF COURSE I have a spreadsheet! It’s even color-coded by album. :)

I’ve been organized from the beginning. Each album has its own folders, broken down into three main categories: Audio, Video, and Art. I have a particular way I sort things, and I number my songs so I always know what order they belong in. It’s the icky-picky stuff that I find oddly satisfying.

I even color-coded my release calendar! And when I say calendar, I mean an actual PAPER calendar. The kind you print out, write on, and attack with highlighters. Lyric videos were green, music videos yellow, song releases purple, Song Moments pink, and Behind the Song videos blue. It was beautiful. Until I decided to change the order of two albums.

Have you ever tried rearranging months of carefully handwritten, color-coded release dates? Tears were shed. That’s when I decided perhaps Google Calendar might be a better solution. Now I have a dedicated calendar for my music releases, and if I need to change something, I can just drag and drop it. Imagine that!

If only Google would let me print the labels in the same colors I’ve assigned to the different types of releases. Seriously, Google. Is that too much to ask?

Of course, the calendar is only part of it. At one point I was saving every single Grok video generation. Eventually, I realized I had THOUSANDS of them. That was getting a little ridiculous, so I finally started clearing out the ones I didn’t need.

I keep the important files, and I now back everything up to Dropbox. Although I’m slightly embarrassed to admit that I didn’t start doing that until fairly recently. Can you imagine if my computer had crashed? Most of the files could probably have been downloaded again, but the amount of time it would have taken? Oh, that would have SUCKED. Like, super harsh.

Anyway, I’m probably one of the few people who considers organizing nine albums’ worth of files and release dates a relaxing activity. But hey, everybody needs a hobby. Apparently, I need several. :)

Once I realized I could actually create my own CDs and vinyl records, AND that it was affordable, I JUMPED at the chance! There’s just something about holding something you’ve created in your hands versus having a digital song floating around somewhere. It made this whole songwriting thing feel SO REAL.

I had the same feeling when I self-published my books. There’s a sense of legacy to it. Something tangible that might survive beyond me. I know that’s a little morbid, but it’s also kind of exciting. :)

Of course, this assumes people still have CD players and turntables. I actually had to send my mom a CD player so she could listen to mine! I experimented with vinyl records, too, but eventually decided to stick with CDs. Vinyl has its limitations, particularly when it comes to how much music you can fit on each side. And I’ve discovered that songs don’t particularly care about those limitations! The music wants what it wants. If a song needs to be longer, I’m not going to start cutting it just to make it fit on a record.

There’s also the little matter of cost. I was having so much fun making physical albums that I kept sending copies to my mom and my friends. Eventually, that started getting a bit expensive. Now, if someone wants a copy, they can order one themselves. In theory, anyway. Have I made any money doing this? Nope! I keep giving them away. Apparently, I’m as good at selling CDs as I am at marketing my music. ;)

I use a company called Kunaki, and the process is surprisingly simple! Of course, the first time I did it, I was screenshotting practically every screen and asking ChatGPT, “What do I do here?” Apparently, that’s my standard approach whenever I encounter a new production tool. :)

But once I figured it out, I discovered that it’s pretty straightforward. You design the front cover, the inside insert, the CD itself, and the back cover. There are some formatting requirements you have to follow, but nothing terribly complicated. And honestly, designing all those pieces is part of the fun! I love figuring out how to make everything look like it belongs together.

Once the artwork is ready, you upload the individual pieces, then upload the WAV files for each song. And that’s pretty much it! It wasn’t until I was working on my latest album that I realized I could also put a QR code on the back cover linking directly to my website.

Will I now go back and redesign all my earlier CD covers to include one? Yes. Yes, I probably will. Because apparently, finishing something doesn’t necessarily mean I’m finished with it. ;)

Oh, pure joy! I’d already completed five albums before I even considered having physical copies made. So when that box arrived, and I opened it to see all five albums sitting there, I can’t even begin to describe how it felt.

I was SO excited. Exhilarated, really. There was something about being able to pick one up, hold it in my hands, and see my name printed right there on the cover. I’d spent all this time writing songs, putting albums together, designing artwork, and releasing everything digitally. But suddenly, there was something real and tangible to show for it.

There’s just nothing quite like that feeling. It was one of those moments when I looked at what I’d created and thought, “I did a thing!” And I did. :)

I wish I’d known just how much work would be involved if I ever decided to take this seriously! I used to joke that I could “write a song in 45 seconds,” but that’s clearly not the whole picture. There’s SO much more involved in getting a song from an idea in my head to something people can actually listen to.

But for me, it’s time well spent. I could spend my evenings playing video games or watching TV, or I could write a song about my friends from high school, a tribute to my mom and her escapade on a frozen pond, or share something painful in the hope that it might resonate with someone else. And to me, that’s not work. That’s FUN.

Are there parts of the process I wish someone else would do for me? Oh, absolutely! But Half Pint Productions is a one-woman operation, so I can’t exactly delegate everything. AI has helped tremendously with speeding up certain tasks and automating parts of the process without compromising my creative vision or integrity.

I do wish I’d known how expensive video generation could get. Or how frustrating it can be when AI produces absolute slop despite being given perfectly reasonable instructions. But then I remind myself that I’m doing this for fun. I already have a job! This is what I do to relax and be creative. My job as a video game producer isn’t always particularly creative, although lately it has been! So songwriting gives me an outlet for all those ideas bouncing around in my head.

But there’s something else I wish I’d figured out a lot sooner. I wish I’d stopped worrying about whether I was a “real artist.” For a long time, I felt almost apologetic about what I was doing. I’d share something I’d created and immediately qualify it by explaining that it wasn’t really art, that I was just using AI, or that it was only a hobby. Almost as if that somehow made it less meaningful.

But it DOES matter to me. I put a tremendous amount of time, thought, effort, and heart into these songs. And frankly, I’ve grown weary of feeling like I need to justify that. So I don’t anymore.

I use AI as a tool to help me accomplish things I literally cannot do myself. I’m upfront about it, and if someone assumes I’m the person singing one of my songs, I correct them. I don’t ever want to misrepresent what I’m doing or how I’m doing it.

But I’ve stopped apologizing for creating something I love. It’s still a hobby. It’s still supposed to be fun. And I’m still learning new things with practically every song I create. I just wish I’d given myself permission to enjoy it without all the disclaimers a little sooner. :)