Category: Musings of a Tiny Streamer

Musings of a Streamer: Issue 11

November 20th, 2025

Being “On” Every Day

This month I gave myself a dare: stream every single day for at least two hours. No off days, no “I’m tired, maybe tomorrow,” no “the numbers are bad so what’s the point?” Just me, my camera, and a video game.

On paper, it sounds like a growth challenge. More hours usually means more discoverability, more chances for people to stumble into chat, more time for the algorithm to maybe, possibly, sort of like me. But that was not the goal. I was not chasing viewers. I wanted to know if I could be “on” every time I went live.

When I say “on,” I mean present and tuned in. Not just a body in a chair, but a host. Someone who can greet a lurker, riff off a random comment, narrate what I am doing, and make the stream feel like a space instead of just background noise. I wanted to see if I could show up like that, on command, day after day.

Spoiler: “being on” is not a switch you flip. It is a whole ecosystem of energy, attention, and self-management.

The Other Side of Streaming

From the outside, a stream can look effortless. Someone plays a game, chats, laughs, reacts, and time passes. From the other side of the screen, it is closer to juggling while you host a dinner party, run tech support, and do your best to stay sane when you’re at the edge.

There is a quiet, constant checklist running: read chat, respond, keep talking even when it slows down, watch the game, remember the goal of the stream, check alerts, thank the follow, try not to tunnel vision.

Doing that for a couple of hours on a good day is fun. Doing it every single day starts to reveal the seams. I noticed how much energy it takes just to warm up, how long it takes for my brain to shift from “quiet off-camera person” to “okay, we are on, let’s do this,” even if the audience is three people and a suspiciously cheerful bot.

Some days, that shift felt smooth and electric. The game and discussion flowed, and I could feel myself genuinely having a good time. Other days, it felt like dragging my own soul across the starting line. I was tired, or anxious, or just empty. My mental health fluctuated at random times. And the fatigue hit harder than on normal days.

Learning what “on” really means

About halfway through the month, I realized I had been chasing the wrong version of “on.”

In my head, “on” meant high-energy and charismatic every single time. Big reactions. Constant banter. No dead air. Basically, doing an improv show.

However, as the days pushed ahead, I leaned into a slower pace. I talked more softly. I let the game breathe. I let silence exist for a few seconds while I thought instead of panicking and stuffing it with noise. I was still present, still paying attention to chat, still welcoming people in, but I was not pretending to be a version of myself. I was just… me, with all my silly mental health issues and fatigue on full display.

Being “on,” I am learning, is less about performing at 110 percent and more about being deliberately present with whatever I have that day. Some days that means being the energetic host. Other days, it means being the calm friend hanging out while we both decompress. Both are valid. Viewers can feel the difference between genuine presence and forced hype, even if they never put it into words.

The toll on the body and mind

Daily streaming also forced me to confront something I usually ignore: my body and brain.

Sitting under lights for two hours a day, or more, talking almost nonstop, is more physical than it sounds. My throat gets dry. My posture slowly collapses. My eyes burn from staring at multiple screens. When I finally hit “end stream,” there is a weird afterimage of chat still scrolling behind my eyes.

Then there is the mental part. Even though this challenge was not about numbers, my brain still noticed them. How many people came in? How long did they stay? Why was yesterday busier? Why is today so quiet? Did I do something wrong?

Add that on top of the usual stress of life, and it becomes a lot. There were nights where I ended stream and just sat in silence, completely drained. Not sad, exactly, just emptied out. Like I had poured all the words I had for the day into the void and now had to wait for them to refill.

Daily streaming made that cycle very visible. It showed me that if I treat every stream like a test I have to ace, I will burn out. My body will tap out first, and my brain will follow close behind.

As the end draws near…

So, was the challenge worth it?

I learned that I can show up far more consistently than I thought. I learned that my “on” does not have to look the same every day. I learned that consistency can build its own confidence.

But I also learned that I need boundaries. I need water on my desk. I need stretches before and after. I need future days where I do not go live, where I let myself be fully off without guilt. I need to remind myself that it is okay if a stream is empty or a little awkward.

Most importantly, this month reminded me why I stream. It is not just for growth, or numbers. It is for the small moments: the regular who pops in to say hi after a long day, the new viewer who laughs at a dumb joke, the comfortable silence while we both focus on the game.

Being “on” is not a mask I put on for strangers. I am paying attention. I am trying. And some days, that has to be enough.

If you are a streamer, or thinking about becoming one, you do not have to do a daily challenge like this. But it might be worth asking yourself: what does being “on” mean for you? What version of yourself are you trying to summon every time you go live, and is that version sustainable?

I am still figuring out my answer. For now, I know this much: I can go live every day. I can be present more often than I expected. And I can also choose to rest, then come back and try again, one stream at a time.

Musings of Streamer is a monthly series that highlights reflections and commentary from my streaming and content creation experience. I am neither an expert nor a large streamer. All advice and content are meant to provide a perspective for you to consider, not to blindly follow. Join me every month to explore the wild waters of streaming on Twitch. I hope you find these insightful in your own journey.
Musings of a Streamer: Issue 10

October 23rd, 2025

Measuring Success

Success as a streamer is often judged by cold, public numbers. Viewer counts. Subscribers. Sponsorships. Viral clips. They sit there like silent judges on your analytic pages, refreshing faster than your mood can keep up. But success in streaming isn’t something you force; it’s something you cultivate. Those metrics might show the fruits of your effort, but they don’t tell the full story, and they certainly don’t offer comfort when the numbers dip. Or the isolation it can cause when those numbers don’t meet your ambitions.

The truth is, you can’t control those front-facing stats. You can nudge them with smart titles, creative promotion, or good timing, but even that’s unpredictable. What you can control is your process, consistency, and connection with the people who do show up. It isn’t glamorous, and it rarely shows immediate rewards. But it’s about the discipline of hitting “Go Live” when chat is empty. It’s the refinement of cleaner audio, sharper overlays, smoother transitions over time. It’s the energy you bring, the tone you set, the way you respond to a familiar username or a first-time chatter. Building a successful streaming channel isn’t about chasing algorithms; it’s about cultivating trust, moment by moment.

There’s a strange kind of freedom in accepting that the metrics aren’t the measure you should pay attention to. Once you stop treating numbers as proof of worth, you learn to read them as information. That mindset quiets the noise and brings you back to the essence of streaming: showing up, connecting, and experimenting.

When you strip away analytics, live streaming becomes deeply human. You’re present in real time, improvising, offering your attention and humor without a script. That’s connection at its most raw, and that sort of connection takes time to grow. You might spend months or years with little to no views before people notice. That’s not failure, though.

The slow beginning, and those moments of low viewership, are where your voice takes shape. When no one’s watching, you can try things. Fail with a smile. Discover what you actually enjoy. That’s where confidence is built. Over time, you start to understand that streaming success isn’t about rapid growth; it’s about lasting growth, earned through patience and persistence.

A dip in views becomes a moment to observe, not panic. Maybe your game choice shifted. Maybe your schedule changed. Maybe it’s just Tuesday. Numbers tell stories, but they don’t tell your story unless you let them. The streamers who last the longest treat their channels like gardens, not machines. They plant seeds with intention, water them with patience, and accept that growth has seasons. There will be droughts. There will be blooms. Both are part of the process.

Social media amplifies the big wins: partnerships, sponsorships, viral clips. Those moments are valid, but they’re just the visible layer. Beneath every viral clip are countless streams that never trend. The long, unseen grind is what builds the skill and stamina to keep pushing on as a streamer. If you define success by going viral, you’ll burn out chasing trends that fade the next day. But if you define it by craft, consistency, and community, you’ll find a steadier rhythm. You won’t burn out as quickly or feel like your drowning at sea. You’ll start valuing engagement over exposure, conversations over clicks. You’ll realize that every loyal viewer once stumbled in by accident and stayed because of how you made them feel.

And maybe that’s the quiet truth about success as a streamer: it’s the steady joy of building something that reflects who you are, even when no one’s watching. The numbers will rise and fall, trends will come and go, but the time you spend honing your craft and skills. That’s the kind of success that doesn’t vanish when the stream ends.

Success as a streamer is often judged by cold, public numbers. Viewer counts. Subscribers. Sponsorships. Viral clips. They sit there like silent judges on your analytic pages, refreshing faster than your mood can keep up. But success in streaming isn’t something you force; it’s something you cultivate. Those metrics might show the fruits of your effort, but they don’t tell the full story, and they certainly don’t offer comfort when the numbers dip. Or the isolation it can cause when those numbers don’t meet your ambitions.

The truth is, you can’t control those front-facing stats. You can nudge them with smart titles, creative promotion, or good timing, but even that’s unpredictable. What you can control is your process, consistency, and connection with the people who do show up. It isn’t glamorous, and it rarely shows immediate rewards. But it’s about the discipline of hitting “Go Live” when chat is empty. It’s the refinement of cleaner audio, sharper overlays, smoother transitions over time. It’s the energy you bring, the tone you set, the way you respond to a familiar username or a first-time chatter. Building a successful streaming channel isn’t about chasing algorithms; it’s about cultivating trust, moment by moment.

There’s a strange kind of freedom in accepting that the metrics aren’t the measure you should pay attention to. Once you stop treating numbers as proof of worth, you learn to read them as information. That mindset quiets the noise and brings you back to the essence of streaming: showing up, connecting, and experimenting.

When you strip away analytics, live streaming becomes deeply human. You’re present in real time, improvising, offering your attention and humor without a script. That’s connection at its most raw, and that sort of connection takes time to grow. You might spend months or years with little to no views before people notice. That’s not failure, though.

The slow beginning, and those moments of low viewership, are where your voice takes shape. When no one’s watching, you can try things. Fail with a smile. Discover what you actually enjoy. That’s where confidence is built. Over time, you start to understand that streaming success isn’t about rapid growth; it’s about lasting growth, earned through patience and persistence.

A dip in views becomes a moment to observe, not panic. Maybe your game choice shifted. Maybe your schedule changed. Maybe it’s just Tuesday. Numbers tell stories, but they don’t tell your story unless you let them. The streamers who last the longest treat their channels like gardens, not machines. They plant seeds with intention, water them with patience, and accept that growth has seasons. There will be droughts. There will be blooms. Both are part of the process.

Social media amplifies the big wins: partnerships, sponsorships, viral clips. Those moments are valid, but they’re just the visible layer. Beneath every viral clip are countless streams that never trend. The long, unseen grind is what builds the skill and stamina to keep pushing on as a streamer. If you define success by going viral, you’ll burn out chasing trends that fade the next day. But if you define it by craft, consistency, and community, you’ll find a steadier rhythm. You won’t burn out as quickly or feel like your drowning at sea. You’ll start valuing engagement over exposure, conversations over clicks. You’ll realize that every loyal viewer once stumbled in by accident and stayed because of how you made them feel.

And maybe that’s the quiet truth about success as a streamer: it’s the steady joy of building something that reflects who you are, even when no one’s watching. The numbers will rise and fall, trends will come and go, but the time you spend honing your craft and skills. That’s the kind of success that doesn’t vanish when the stream ends.

Musings of Streamer is a monthly series that highlights reflections and commentary from my streaming and content creation experience. I am neither an expert nor a large streamer. All advice and content are meant to provide a perspective for you to consider, not to blindly follow. Join me every month to explore the wild waters of streaming on Twitch. I hope you find these insightful in your own journey.
Musings of a Streamer: Issue 9

September 13th, 2025

How Streaming has Helped Me

This post is a pseudo-continuation of Issue 7 of Musings of a Streamer. That didn’t go into much detail. And while I’m not confident that I’m ready to dive super deep, I do want to share more… And This is more. More context. More honesty. A clearer picture of the manic emotions that gnaw at me, and the quiet ways streaming has helped me hold them at bay.

So, here goes.

I hit “Go Live” because I needed to feel like I existed somewhere outside my head. When I am not writing or streaming, my inner dialogue often runs at a thousand. My mind races in every direction, my mood swinging wildly from one extreme to another. I’m manic. Depressed. Empty. Full of energy. I struggle to connect, to stay focused, sometimes even to breathe. Silence feels like it can swallow me whole, while noise can overwhelm me to the point of shutting down. My head is not always a safe place to linger, and so I turn outward, trying to anchor myself in a space where I can feel seen and grounded.

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder not too long ago. I haven’t talked about my diagnosis openly. It rarely comes up, not because I’m ashamed, but because it feels unreal, like something that belongs to another version of myself. Sometimes I convince myself that if I don’t say it aloud, maybe it isn’t there. Maybe I can just keep moving forward without the weight of labels. But silence carries its own kind of burden, and I’ve realized that holding it in doesn’t make it vanish. If anything, it isolates me further.

So here I am, speaking to you. Sort of.

It’s odd to put this into words, to let it exist outside of my journal or my private thoughts. But to keep us focused, I want to share how streaming on Twitch, and content creation has become one of the most important tools I’ve had for processing my mental health.

Depression is a frequent companion of mine. It creeps in like fog, soft and unrelenting, making it harder to move or even imagine movement. I’ve written about it before, and I’ll write about it a thousand more times, because depression is rarely a single story; it’s a recurring theme that shifts shape but never disappears. Streaming, though, offers me a kind of counterpoint. It doesn’t erase the depression, but it gives me a space where I can meet it with company, creativity, and connection. I write for the same reasons I sit down in front of a camera to play video games.

When I go live, my depression, or more manic moments, seeps through the cracks from time to time. Along with it comes anger, or frustration, or that restless energy that can feel like too much for me and maybe too much for others. But in those moments, I’m not hiding it. I’m not pretending to be anything other than what I am that day. And, people respond, not by turning away, but by leaning in. Some share their own struggles, their own days where everything feels impossible. Others just hang out, bringing lightness to the room with no need to fix me like some folks I’ve known in my real life throughout the years. Some are just there to listen and reflect along with me. Either way, I’m reminded that I don’t have to be alone in the weight of it.

Streaming has also given me moments of joy. I can be moody and dark, yes, but I can also be filled with energy as I chat with anyone who stops by. There are days when laughter flows freely, when conversations spiral into absurd tangents, when the act of playing a game becomes less about the game and more about the shared experience. Those moments matter. They remind me that my emotions are not fixed in place, that joy is still possible, that I am capable of connecting with others even when my brain insists otherwise.

What I didn’t expect when I started streaming was how much structure it would bring into my life. On the days I schedule a stream, I know I have to show up. I have to prepare in some way—choose a game, make sure OBS is going to act weird, make sure the mic works. That small ritual of preparation becomes an anchor. Even if I’ve spent the day spiraling, by the time I hit “Go Live,” I’ve given myself something to hold on to. And once the stream begins, the act of being present with others helps me step out of the loop in my head, if only for a little while.

Of course, it’s not always easy. There are times when my mood swings mid-stream, when my energy crashes suddenly, when the act of being “on” feels unbearable. Those moments are difficult, and I’ve had to learn how to navigate them with honesty—sometimes by ending the stream early, sometimes by admitting that I’m struggling. It’s not perfect, but it’s real, and I think that honesty is part of what makes the experience meaningful both for me and for the people who watch.

Content creation more broadly has given me a language for processing my mental health. Writing, in particular, allows me to shape the chaos of my thoughts into something tangible. Even if the words don’t always make sense, they create a map of where I’ve been, a record that helps me notice patterns and shifts I might otherwise miss. Streaming, then, becomes the live version of that—less polished, more immediate, but equally necessary.

Together, writing and streaming form a kind of dialogue with myself and with others. They remind me that I’m not just a passive subject of my mental health, but an active participant in how I navigate it. They don’t cure me—there’s no cure for bipolar disorder—but they give me tools, practices, and connections that make living with it more bearable.

Looking back, I realize that what began as a way to distract myself has become a way to ground myself. Twitch might not be therapy in the traditional sense, but it’s a kind of community therapy, a reminder that even in the darkest moods, I can reach out and be met with laughter and connection.

So yes, I hit “Go Live” because I wanted to exist somewhere outside my own head. But I keep going live because it works. Because it gives space to me and others. Because it gives me connection on the days I feel cut off, structure on the days I feel scattered, and joy on the days I’ve forgotten it’s possible. And in that way, streaming hasn’t just helped me process my mental health; it’s helped me live with it, one session, one conversation, one moment at a time.

Streaming isn’t the end all be all. There have been downsides that have hurt my mental health in many ways, but this is meant to highlight one of the ways I have found positivity in the wild waters of content creation.

Musings of Streamer is a monthly series that highlights reflections and commentary from my streaming and content creation experience. I am neither an expert nor a large streamer. All advice and content are meant to provide a perspective for you to consider, not to blindly follow. Join me every month to explore the wild waters of streaming on Twitch. I hope you find these insightful in your own journey.
Musings of a Streamer: Issue 8

August 12th, 2025

A Moment to Take a Breath

If you’ve ever spent more than an hour in one of my streams, you’ve probably noticed a pattern. Every hour I take a short break. I pause whatever game I’m playing and step away from the mic for three to five minutes. It’s a time to refill my water bottle, stretch my legs, and check on my pups. These breaks have become a personal ritual for me. They are a way to reset, not just physically, but emotionally and mentally too.

Streaming, while something I deeply enjoy, can also be incredibly draining. You’re “on” the entire time: interacting, entertaining, reacting, thinking ahead. There’s a constant push to perform, to be present, to keep the energy going. And when you live with social anxiety like I do, that kind of sustained engagement takes a toll. Even if my viewer count is zero.

So when I take that break at the top of the hour, I’m doing more than just stepping away. I’m making space for myself to breathe.. And when I come back from those few minutes away, I don’t jump straight back into the flow. I pause. I breathe. And I invite everyone watching to do the same. It’s a simple moment. One deep breath in. One deep breath out. Sometimes I’ll it’s more than a single breathe.

I started doing it almost instinctively. After returning from a break, I noticed that I still felt keyed up, still buzzing from the last hour’s energy, still overthinking something I said or didn’t say. So I stopped. I took a breath. I told myself, “You’re okay. You’re back. Let’s start fresh.” Then, something told me: Maybe others need this too.

So I started inviting my viewers to breathe with me.

That moment, those few seconds of shared stillness, became a powerful point of connection. Not in the flashy, viral content kind of way, but in a quiet, human one. In that breath, we’re all just people. Not streamer and audience. Not usernames chatting online. We’re people. Breathing through our own stress, our own doubts, our own anxiety. Together.

And here’s the thing: we don’t often get that in our digital spaces. Most online environments are fast-paced, designed to keep you scrolling, clicking, reacting. Even in live content like streaming, there’s a pressure to constantly be doing something. Silence can feel like a threat. Stillness can feel like a failure.

But I’ve learned, and I’m still learning, that stillness is not failure. It creates room for reflection. It invites vulnerability. And sometimes, it’s exactly what we need to keep going.

For me, it’s also an anchor. When anxiety starts creeping in, when the little voice in my head starts asking if I’m doing enough, if I’m being enough, the breath is a reminder that I don’t have to prove anything in that moment. I just have to be present. I just have to breathe.

That’s a huge part of why I do this. Because streaming isn’t always easy for me. I love it, but I also wrestle with it. I have days where doubt gnaws at me, where I wonder if what I’m doing matters, if I’m connecting, if I belong. Taking that breath helps me push back against those feelings. It’s a tiny act of resistance against the noise in my head.

And by sharing it with others, I hope it becomes something more than just a personal coping mechanism. I hope it becomes a shared pause that offers comfort, permission, and peace.

Some viewers have told me they look forward to those breaths. That they needed that pause more than they realized. That it helped them refocus, feel less alone, or even just remember to drink water. That means the world to me. Because this little habit has turned into healing.

For me.

For others.

It’s funny how something so small can carry so much meaning. But maybe that’s the point. We live in a world where everything’s always moving, always demanding more. To pause, even for a few seconds, is a radical act of self-kindness.

So if you ever drop by my stream and see me take that breath, now you know why. It’s not filler. It’s not empty space. It’s a sacred moment, however small, where we choose presence over pressure. Where we let go of what we were holding onto for just a heartbeat. Where we remember that we’re allowed to slow down.

It’s a breath for me. A breath for you. A breath for anyone who needs one.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what we need.

Musings of Streamer is a monthly series that highlights reflections and commentary from my streaming and content creation experience. I am neither an expert nor a large streamer. All advice and content are meant to provide a perspective for you to consider, not to blindly follow. Join me every month to explore the wild waters of streaming on Twitch. I hope you find these insightful in your own journey.
Musings of a Streamer: Issue 7

July 24th, 2025

Depression in Streaming

Streaming on Twitch is something I started because I figured why not stream while I play. As time went on, I became more interested in trying to make it something more than just a hobby. But more often than not, I find myself ending stream sessions feeling empty. Not tired, but emotionally low. Depressed. Like none of it matters. It’s been especially true since the beast of unemployment came knocking.

Sometimes the lack of viewers causes me small panic. Watching the numbers hover at one, two, or more often than not zero causes me to doubt everything, including myself. I try not to obsess over it, but it’s hard not to notice when it feels like no one’s listening, no one’s watching, no one’s there. It reminds me of how empty I am.

Other times it’s my gameplay. I mess up. I fumble through what should be a simple combat encounter. Or I forget an important story beat. Or, more recently, completely forgot to sell a certain material for money.

What kills me the most is the follow-unfollow that happens. I panic and wonder if I did something wrong. Maybe I did. Maybe they just wanted a follow back. I don’t know. I’ll never know.

I watch other streamers have a ton of fun or be effortlessly entertaining, and I can’t help but feel like I fall short. I tell myself not to compare, but that voice still creeps in: Why would anyone watch me when there are so many better, funnier, more talented people out there?

And then there’s the energy. Some days I just don’t have it. I hit “Go Live” already feeling drained. I try to push through it, fake a smile, be upbeat for whoever might tune in, but inside, I feel like I’m running on fumes.

The truth is, I believe I don’t matter in the streaming space. That I’m invisible. That what I’m doing is pointless.

And yet… here I am, still showing up. Still trying. Because something in me wants to believe I can do this. That maybe my presence does matter. That somewhere out there, someone might need to hear this and feel a little less alone.

I don’t have an uplifting conclusion or magic fix. These are just ramblings of an increasingly jaded content creator. I don’t have advice to give for anyone else who may feel this way. I’m just trying to be honest about what this feels like. Maybe I’ll come back and add to this when I’m in a better headspace.

Either way, if you’ve ever streamed and felt like this… I see you. I hear you. You’re not alone. I hope you will keep pushing on.

Musings of Streamer is a monthly series that highlights reflections and commentary from my streaming and content creation experience. I am neither an expert nor a large streamer. All advice and content are meant to provide a perspective for you to consider, not to blindly follow. Join me every month to explore the wild waters of streaming on Twitch. I hope you find these insightful in your own journey.
Musings of a Streamer: Issue 6

June 26th, 2025

Embrace Yourself

Twitch is more than just a platform for gaming. In the last several years, especially during the pandemic, IRL and Just Chatting streams blew up. Hop on over to Twitch and look at how many people are streaming and watching in those categories. It’s mind blowing.
In these streams, authenticity rules. Whether it’s a staged setup or a spontaneous slice of life, every time they go live they enter a performance of personality. Some creators carefully craft their personas, while others present themselves completely raw. They all strive to showcase the who they are. The most magnetic creators aren’t necessarily those with exciting gameplay or heavily produced streams, they’re the ones who show up as themselves, quirks and all.
For many viewers, that’s where the appeal lies. When people see who a streamer is, they gravitate towards them. If the streamer is a happy-go-lucky goof-ball, that will spill out from the stream, whether it’s gameplay or just chatting. When a personality shines, that streamer becomes someone real. Someone relatable.

This is where I stumble, and a lot of beginner streamers struggle. How do we showcase our own personalities? How can we draw viewers to us and keep them engaged? There isn’t a magic way to do it. We have to be honest with ourselves and how we want to approach streams. Starting out, you may find it easy to simply ‘be yourself’, and that’s great! That means you’re confident and sure of yourself. Others, like me, are so gosh darn introverted we wonder why we’re taking on the endeavor of streaming.

If you’re like me, it will take time to feel comfortable with cameras being on and talking. The biggest piece of advice I can give is embracing the downtime, when no one is watching. Talk. Talk. Talk. Then go back and watch yourself. It’s going to be hard, watching yourself over and over again. Like in sports, athletes watch replays of plays to understand what they did wrong and right. As streamer, you’re doing the same thing. The more you study how you’re presenting yourself the better you’ll be with each stream afterwards.

So, for those starting out, remember to take a moment to watch yourself too. It’s tough, but in doing so, you learn how to communicate effectively. You’ll see your quirks that stand out. And, as time goes on, you’ll transform your streams to truly highlight who you are.

Remember that streaming takes time, patience, and a lot of grace (in yourself). There will be stumbles and frustrations; all you have to do is pick yourself and keep going.

Musings of Streamer is a monthly series that highlights reflections and commentary from my streaming and content creation experience. I am neither an expert nor a large streamer. All advice and content are meant to provide a perspective for you to consider, not to blindly follow. Join me every month to explore the wild waters of streaming on Twitch. I hope you find these insightful in your own journey.
Musings of a Streamer: Issue 5

June 12th, 2025

Personality of Communities

I’ve ventured into political commentary streams as viewer, not a streamer. More or less to see a different side of Twitch as reminder that there is more to the platform than brain rot video game nonsense (I’m part of the brain rot, woo). The one thing I’ve noticed, and have found fascinating, as I’ve dived into those political spaces, are the varying types of communities. Some are welcoming. Others hostile to anyone who expresses disagreement with the streamer. Then there are those that are chill and feel like people sitting around a couch late at night shooting the shit. This isn’t only political streamers either, plenty of streamer communities are like the above. The political communities only highlighted this for me as I’ve sleuthed through Twitch.

It’s made me take a step back and think about the community I want to foster.

As streamers, we invite an audience to experience a game, or we engage in conversation with us. Naturally, the community will reflect the streamers persona the more they watch and engage. It’s a cult of personality, in a way, that streamers undertake. We form a community that we have a responsibility for; the good and the bad. That community has a personality of its own that we must foster and mediate, otherwise that community may drift away from what we envisioned if we don’t moderate it.

Likewise, we need to ask ourselves the type of community we want. One thing I’ve noticed with political streams are ‘plant-my-flag’ communities that will adopt and believe whatever the streamer says. Perhaps it’s the contrarian, or maybe academic, in me but believing anything another person, especially a person online, says without research is a head scratcher. For many streamers, they want to have a chill space for people to come talk and hangout, and that’s wonderful. But, to ensure the chill space, you still need to set boundaries, so that your viewers know the space you want to build. We have a responsibility to ensure our audience knows exactly what we expect from them in chat and beyond.

The beyond part is key. It’s easy for communities to take the issues into other spaces that we, the streamers, can’t moderate. While that’s out of our control, we can still make it clear that those actions won’t be tolerated. (I saw this a lot in the political spaces)

For folks looking to stream, this is something you’ll need to consider and think about. While it’s not an immediate focus for budding streamers, seeing how other streamers communicate with their communities will open your own eyes to how you could, and would not, approach your own.

Musings of Streamer is a monthly series that highlights reflections and commentary from my streaming and content creation experience. I am neither an expert nor a large streamer. All advice and content are meant to provide a perspective for you to consider, not to blindly follow. Join me every month to explore the wild waters of streaming on Twitch. I hope you find these insightful in your own journey.
Musings of a Streamer: Issue 4

April 24th, 2025

A Simple Streamer’s April Check In

There isn’t much to say this month. I’ve fallen off streaming pretty hard. It started back in March, where I was getting burned out and too tired to work up to streaming. For April, the excuse has been I’m too busy and too tired to focus on streaming. I have no wise words to share or reflections beyond that. However, with the end of the semester on the horizon (for those who don’t know, I teach Creative Writing at a University) I will have time to sit back, relax, and dive into games!

Come May and June, I have planned out both months to a tee, with a few things that I’m happy to change as needed. I’ve planned to play Star Wars games in May. June is a mix of Baldur’s Gate 3, inZOI, Bugsnax (VR), and a series I’ve wanted to stream for a long time—Trails of Cold Steel.

Yes. I will play all four games of Trails of Cold Steel. It’s a series I love. My hope is by the time I finish the four games, the remake of Trails in the Sky will have released (it’s the first game of the Legend of Hero Series, which Cold Steel is a part of). Beyond June, I do not have too much planned.

With that said, I’m excited to bring folks a month of Star Wars and epic games!

To give a heads up in the future, every 4 months I will give an update like this to fit within the Musings. I like the idea of sharing my personal excitement and plans… And to highlight any growth that may have come!

Next month, I will dive into games you should play on stream! It’s far more complicated than one assumes…

Not really.

Musings of Streamer is a monthly series that highlights reflections and commentary from my streaming and content creation experience. I am neither an expert nor a large streamer. All advice and content are meant to provide a perspective for you to consider, not to blindly follow. Join me every month to explore the wild waters of streaming on Twitch. I hope you find these insightful in your own journey.
Musings of a Streamer: Issue 3

March 27th, 2025

A Consistent Schedule

The first question an aspiring streamer needs to ask themselves, how much time do I want to spend streaming? This also requires an honest answer. We’d stream anytime of the day, if we could. The truth, however, is not streaming as much as we can but how to be consistent. Streamers-to-be have to build a schedule that works around their lives. If a hefty schedule can work, power to them! I’m envious of that! Scheduling hinges on balancing life and streaming aspirations.

A streamer’s daily life holds greater significance, especially compared to their online presence. If their goal is to be a full-time streamer, great! I encourage and support that endeavor! However, streaming should never come at the expense of your real-life happenings. By real life, I mean the life you live outside of video games, streaming, and online forums. Early on, new streamers often think they should jump right into streaming long hours to ‘make it’, but to become an effective streamer you have to learn to balance your life with that of the new adventure you have dared to tread.

It’s a balance I still struggle with, too. Teaching. Writing. Streaming. Being present for friends and family. Early on, I was obsessed with the idea that I had to stream all the time. I confess, to some extent, I still feel that way too. My obsession, however, led to an unsustainable streaming schedule. I never had time for anything, which led me to being miserable. It led me to not want to stream. While this may not happen for everyone, I do want to warn against the urge to stream all the time. You need a moment simply to breathe. I know I did.

While I still look for the perfect balance for myself, I have to remind myself no matter what, I need to find consistency. That’s the key. A schedule is only a small part of consistency. Consistency in presence, the games you play, how you interact with viewers, and general tone are ultimately what makes a streamer. But starting with a schedule is a good foundation to work with Sticking to that schedule is the hardest part. But once you do, the building blocks of streaming will fall into place. When you find the rhythm of the schedule, you’ll discover the consistency you need to really shine.

So, get to work. Make a schedule. Find the consistency that works best for you.

Musings of Streamer is a monthly series that highlights reflections and commentary from my streaming and content creation experience. I am neither an expert nor a large streamer. All advice and content are meant to provide a perspective for you to consider, not to blindly follow. Join me every month to explore the wild waters of streaming on Twitch. I hope you find these insightful in your own journey.
Musings of a Streamer: Issue 2

February 27th, 2025

Positivity: A Struggle of a Small Streamer

Lights on.

OBS is open.

You hit the ‘go live’ button on the stream deck.

Two, three, four, maybe twelve, hours go by…

You hit the ‘end stream’ button.

OBS is closed.

Lights off.

Rinse. Repeat. The loop continues and you wonder why you’re even bothering with a cycle that doesn’t reward you. Maybe you gain a follower or two. Maybe a raid. Maybe a viewer will chat with you. More than likely, a bot will trick you into thinking you have a genuine viewer, only to pull the rug by asking you to check out their art or they have suggestions on how to improve your channel (both cases result in unsolicited attempts at selling you not so good work). Those happen on the good days for a small streamer, while most days nothing happens. The cycle is often bitter and frustrating. You’ll question why no one stopped by. You’ll wonder what you could do, only to try something, anything, and realize it did nothing to improve your streams—a brutal never ending circular cycle.

A cycle that can be negative and draining.

I once struggled to find positivity in the cycle. Content creation feels like an endless loop that has little reward for the things you are creating. No matter how much work you put into it, streaming can feel empty and hollow. Until it doesn’t. Until one day you realize that the only thing that matters is what you’re learning in the moment. There is so much you can learn, too. That’s where the positivity lies. That’s where you will find the most ‘growth’.

Too often beginner streamers focus on the numbers, rather than focusing on themselves. I fell into that trap. I still have moments where I look and wonder why my follower count isn’t going up or has fallen. But truth be told, the best advice I’ve seen and can share is to not focus on the numbers. They don’t matter at first. They don’t really matter at all, no matter what level of fame you achieve. What matters is you’re learning and finding your voice. What matters is you… The streamer. Don’t worry about all the noise and nonsense of numbers and numerical ‘growth’, that will drive you insane.

Instead, approach your streams and content creation by asking yourself, did I have fun? Fun in the moment. Fun, despite no one watching. Fun despite my last video not doing too well. If you’re not enjoying yourself foremost, it’ll be obvious for anyone who jumps into your stream or watches your videos. Don’t play games because they are popular, play games you enjoy and want to share that love. Put your enjoyment first… If you do that, then spending a few hours streaming to no one won’t feel as bad or as disappointing.

You should also focus on talking. No matter what it is. Practice the way you communicate on stream. Pretend you have people watching. Pretend your next video is going to have 1,000+ views. By talking, you ensure that anyone who stops by has something they can comment on beyond the game. By talking, you have something to critique afterwards. As hard as it might be, it’s essential to watch your stream—especially starting out. It will provide insight that you do not get in the moment of streaming. You see and hear the dead air. The balance of audio becomes more apparent, so you can adjust later. In a way, you become a viewer when you go back to watch your stream. Now, take everything you learned by watching and critiquing to help improve your next stream.

Rinse.

Repeat.

I’m a small streamer and I struggle with finding the positive in a field that is vast, sometimes lonely, but it’s the most fun I’ve ever had. I’m not an expert. I doubt I’ll have the massive numbers like xQc or pokimane. But I’m find the fun. I’m finding the positivity the more I stream.

It took me a while to get there.

You’ll get there too.

I believe in you.

Musings of Streamer is a monthly series that highlights reflections and commentary from my streaming and content creation experience. I am neither an expert nor a large streamer. All advice and content are meant to provide a perspective for you to consider, not to blindly follow. Join me every month to explore the wild waters of streaming on Twitch. I hope you find these insightful in your own journey.

Category: Musings of a Tiny Streamer

The Other Side of Streaming

Learning what “on” really means

The toll on the body and mind

So, was the challenge worth it?