First Live Broadcast (1)
The moment I actually thought about going live, my heart started hammering.
Still, letting this window slip by would have been far too wasteful.
We had already talked about streaming during a studio meeting, and the consensus had been clear: try it as soon as possible.
Vanessa—one of the few influencers and YouTubers I actually knew—treated going live like a daily routine. Oliver, too, often threw up guerrilla streams with his kids.
"……."
Right. This was just another mountain I had to climb.
Things had finally started feeling manageable. That was exactly why I couldn't settle in and stop trying new things. If the channel ever stalled someday, who would I have to blame but myself?
Everyone has a first time. Even if I was a little clumsy, the viewers would cut me some slack. I just needed to keep it as natural as I could.
I wasn't the type who overflowed with energy, and I definitely didn't have a silver tongue. Mimicking people who did would only make things awkward for everyone involved. Better to do it the way I had with Oliver—sincerely, nothing more. The response hadn't been bad then. The results that followed had been good, too.
I kept listing every reason I needed to go live right now, and started prepping in a hurry.
No matter how casually I approached the stream, I was still a YouTuber. How I looked on camera mattered. I changed into a neatly kept sweater and combed my hair. Pants… well, only my upper half would be on screen, so the comfortable ones I already had on would be fine.
At first I set up at the island table, where the brightest lights in the house were. But a little Christmas atmosphere seemed better, so I moved everything to the coffee table with the kids' Christmas-tree tent as a backdrop, propped up my laptop and phone, and finished the setup.
For a second I considered texting Greg and Cassandra. Then I thought better of it—I didn't want to dump work into their cozy Christmas evening with their families.
And once that thought landed, another one followed: was it even okay to go live right now? Most of my subscribers probably didn't have free time tonight. It was Christmas, after all.
"……."
That shouldn't have been a relief, but somehow the pressure eased a little. Of course, if absolutely no one showed up that would be its own problem—but I honestly didn't think that would happen…
I wrapped up the rough prep and checked the time. It was already pushing nine. Eight-thirty and nine had completely different vibes, so I hurried and hit go live.
I adjusted the settings the way Cassandra and I had practiced once before… and then my face filled the entire laptop screen.
This was going to take some getting used to.
Is this even working?
I was clicking around the page when the chat started rolling.
"Ah—hello."
The greeting slipped out before I could stop it. As if answering me, Hi! and Merry Christmas! flooded the chat in rapid succession.
"Is this working okay?"
The second the words left my mouth, I realized how stupid the question was. Of course it was working—people were already talking to me.
I was staring blankly at the greetings pouring in when a group-chat notification popped up in the bottom corner of the laptop. Greg and Cassandra had messaged me almost at the same time.
Ah. Right—they'd gotten the alert that I'd started streaming.
If I'd known, I would have texted them ahead of time not to worry about it.
…So why ask in the first place?
Still, knowing they were monitoring for me was a little comforting. At least if things went completely off the rails, they'd make me stop…
I was reading and replying when it hit me—all of this was going out live, exactly as it was.
"Hello. Merry Christmas."
I gave the camera a small wave, managed another awkward greeting, and glanced at myself on the monitor. The light was bouncing off my hair, making the top of the frame almost painfully bright. Suddenly Reni's Christmas card made a lot more sense—he'd captured that glare with uncanny accuracy.
"The light's reflecting and the top of the screen is a little blinding. One second."
I switched the white bulb for a warmer yellow one and sat back down.
"There, that's better."
With the overall brightness dialed down, my face was a little harder to see—which, honestly, felt like a win. The chat was flying by so fast it was almost scary. I couldn't read every line properly, but most of it seemed to be Christmas well-wishes, with the occasional question mixed in.
Like Cassandra and Greg said, they would keep an eye on things. Better for the stream if I just ignored the chat.
Except one comment had been pinned to the top, impossible to miss.
A message packed tight with greetings, congratulations, and support. I could feel how badly the person had wanted to say everything they hadn't been able to until now.
"Thank you—really. And thank you for the donation… but please don't feel like you have to support me. I'd rather everyone just watch comfortably. That way I can stream more comfortably too…"
I'd seen it often enough on other creators' lives: donate, and your comment gets pinned to the top. I was a YouTuber, but I never had much time to actually watch YouTube, so even the things I already knew still felt oddly new.
The second I told people not to feel pressured to donate, several more super chats rolled in. I saw Cassandra's message telling me to stop worrying and just stream, and followed it.
"Today I'm going to do an unboxing video of the Christmas gifts I received… no—a live…"
My words tangled. I stopped and squeezed my eyes shut. Ugh. Why am I like this.
Embarrassed, I cracked one eye open and peeked at the chat. I'd decided not to look maybe thirty seconds ago, and already I couldn't help myself.
Fortunately, in the terrifying speed of the scrolling comments, I couldn't find any insults. Not yet, anyway.
I pulled myself together and opened my mouth again.
"Sorry. I think I'm really nervous because it's my first live. Still, I'd like to check in with you through streams every so often, so I gathered up my courage and started."
I cleared my throat for no good reason. I should have brought a glass of water before I began.
"Um… right. So today I wanted to open the gifts I got this Christmas together with you. Did everyone get lots of presents?"
My face heated a little. The chat caught my reaction and exploded even faster.
…Okay. I really should not look at the chat.
I wrestled my focus back into place and kept going.
"Honestly, I was going to film this alone and edit it later. But uploading an unboxing after Christmas is over just didn't seem very fun. And it's not that late yet… so. Here I am."
An awkward silence settled in. In professional terms, the "mag" had gone out—dead air. This was not great. I was about to pull a gift into frame when it occurred to me that some background music might help.
"One second—I think some music would be nice…"
I adjusted the volume and put on Greg's latest playlist. Warm carols drifted over the twinkling lights in the background, and everything felt better at once. Now the only thing left was for the man on screen—me—to do his job well.
As I thought that, another pinned comment appeared.
Excuse me? Me? Streaming like a smooth operator? And more importantly—why were they looking forward to that?
I wanted to fire the questions right back, but I just said thank you and pulled the biggest gift box in front of the camera.
"I was really lucky this Christmas—I received so many gifts. Some were handed to me in person, some came by package, and some even arrived through messenger."
I tapped the heavy box Evan had sent by courier and kept talking.
"There were gift cards for a famous café chain, too. And some things I can test and pick up in-store—if I get the chance, I'll turn that into a vlog."
The word vlog sent a cascade of comments flying past. Yeah. If I didn't make that video, I was in trouble.
"Alright, let's open this heavy package first. This is from my editor—the owner of Bibliophile, who was also in that interview video a little while ago."
Hoping it would help Evan too, I promoted his bookstore even as I sliced through the packing tape with a box cutter.
"For anyone who hasn't seen that video—if you buy a curated book set from Bibliophile, you also get a calligraphy card I wrote."
I lifted the gift box out of the shipping carton. From the weight and size, it had to be books.
"He's an editor, so he must have sent books, right? I think I've received more books from this man than anyone else in my entire life."
I took one end of the oversized red ribbon, pulled, and opened the lid—then let out a small, involuntary gasp.
"Wow. It's not books."
The box was packed full of calligraphy inks. I lifted them out one by one, each bottle already so beautifully packaged, and held them up to the camera.
"I feel like an ink millionaire. I got a whole pile from the collab stream with Oliver, and not long ago Rosa Penette sent me their holiday edition too…"
I almost reined in the smile tugging at my mouth, then decided to just enjoy it openly.
"This is amazing. Of course I would have been happy if it had been books—but getting something I didn't expect at all makes it even better."
Seven bottles of ink in total. Underneath was a pack of high-quality postcard-sized paper, and beneath that, a stationery set.
"Oh, this is really nice."
I tore open the plastic on the premium letter set, a little excitement creeping into my voice as I explained.
"I've been writing letters like a diary for a while now. I only mentioned it in passing, but he remembered and sent me this."
A comment pinned to the top of the chat asked for a letter-writing video. Glancing around, I saw a lot of similar requests, so I nodded.
"Funny you mention that—I was already thinking about making a letter-writing video in an ASMR style. And if this unboxing wraps up too quickly, I might even film one tonight. You're probably not watching right now, but… thank you, Editor. I'm going to use every single thing you sent."
I set the gift aside, and a message from Evan came in—glad I liked it.
Wait. He was watching?
Even after the divorce, even without many friends, I'd figured he'd be at some social gathering, given the season. But I couldn't exactly say that out loud, so I sent him the giant thumbs-up emoji I'd bought for messaging the kindergarten teachers.
Then I reached for the next box. It was long and narrow—the kind that made you curious about what was inside.
"Ah, this one is from the friend who made the playlist you're listening to right now. He performs with me at the pub—really incredible voice. Some of you might even be here from his YouTube channel…"
I unwrapped the packaging, a surprisingly calm blend of navy and gold patterns—not very Greg at all. And inside was…
"…I genuinely never know why he does this sometimes."
Greg had given me a water gun.
Was this guy obsessed with guns lately? He'd given Luca a bubble gun for his birthday, and now he was giving me a water gun? For the record, we still hadn't even used the bubble gun.
I lifted it out of the box, a note of worry creeping into my voice.
"He's a dad now. When is he going to grow u—wait. Why does this look so expensive?"