https://youtu.be/bfhOOQiA7HU
This video, recorded on the occasion of me getting my first client in the life coaching, is going into the realm of tips on how to write. To summarize, clarify, and expand on what was said,
1) consider writing and editing to be two separate tasks; you have to allow yourself to write and suspend your inner critic; you cannot edit while writing - I mean, you can, but better to avoid editing while writing. You can edit later.
2) to get a motivation to write, you have to become a part of writing community. The writing community does not have to be face to face or in person and can be half imaginary or even consist of you twenty years later, but the writing community has to exist.
3) to write, you have to read. There is no way around reading. Reading does not have to be a daunting part; you can read what you like.
4) writing is the only thing that opens doors, apart from resources that we might not possess, such as money and connections. Therefore, it is helpful to get into a habit of writing. The book I mentioned was Peter Elbow's Writing Without Teachers: https://www.amazon.com/Writing-without-Teachers-Peter-Elbow/dp/0195120167/ - Elbow's book helped me, and it can help you.
I can help you in getting into a habit of writing and unleashing your creativity as a life coach and even as a developmental editor. Book a session with me at https://tl.page/vasilina-or
When I was talking about my own background as a writer, I did not mention that in addition to journal publications, I also have books out: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Vasilina-Orlova/author/B001I0OUKC
I hope you are having a great day! Like and comment. See you soon.
#writing #lifecoaching #lifecoach #creativity #unleashingcreativity
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WIP Wednesday - Impound
A little peek at that tow truck driver idea I was tossing around last week, for any interested parties
He shuffled through the papers deliberately. The sound of the cop’s rubber-soled boots squeaking impatiently on the dated linoleum floor was music to Simon’s ears. “Oh, of course. The squad car. Parked in a fire lane.” He tutted, shaking his head. “You’re lucky I got there before bylaw did. ‘S a big fine if they ticket you.”
They both knew that bylaw didn’t have the stones to ticket a cruiser. The fire department might, but they didn’t go around looking for trouble either. That was really more Simon’s area of expertise.
“You could have been impeding an investigation,” Price said, steely eyes narrowing.
Simon snorted. “At Ronnie’s? I fockin’ doubt it, unless you were investigatin’ how fresh the pastries were. Everyone knows that’s Laswell’s girl. Nobody’s stupid enough to cause trouble for ‘er.”
Price’s jaw was so tight that Simon was surprised his teeth didn’t start cracking under the pressure. He could almost hear the grind of enamel. “Fine. Just get the bloody gate open so I can leave.”
“Sure, no problem officer. Just a matter of the impound fees— Y’want me to bill the precinct directly, or are you gonna pay ‘em yourself?” He set the paperwork down on the desk top and fished the debit machine out of the top drawer suggestively. “Just need some I.D., if you don’t mind. Gotta keep things tidy on my end.”
Price snatched up the invoice. “One hundred and fifty dollars? Are you mad?”
“That’s the rate. Take it up with council if you’ve got a problem with it. You still gotta pay.”
Price was pretty near growling as he yanked out his wallet. Simon made a bit of a performance out of logging in the information on his I.D. on the slow computer, of punching in the total on the debit machine, and of checking everything to make sure it was in order. Price initialled the invoice where he was directed, pressing so hard it left a permanent indentation in the cheap veneer of the desk.
“Olright. You’re all set then,” Simon said at last, when he could drag his feet on the matter no more. He got out of his chair with a sigh, pleased to find that he stood a good three or four inches taller than Price, and walked out the side door without any further ceremony. Price was still standing in front of the desk, red-faced and angry. “Come on then.” Simon stopped just past the doorway, looking over his shoulder impatiently. “Haven’t got all day you know. Some of us have important work to do.”
He half expected Price’s head to explode.
Price stalked across the lot to his cruiser and threw himself into the driver’s seat while Simon went to open up the gate. The rev of the engine was the only warning Simon had to get out of the way before Price drove through it, cutting it a little too close for comfort. Simon raised his hand and wiggled his fingers in farewell, enjoying the glimpse of that furious blue glare in the mirrors before Price turned onto the road and sped off.
“Wha’ the hell was all that about?” Johnny asked, leaning out of the building, braced on the door handle, Roach a step behind him. “Ye pissin’ off the new police chief?”
“Yep.” Simon corralled the boys back into the office. “Fuckin’ hate cops.”
“Sure, but aren’t ye worried—”
“Not really. ‘F ‘e gets to be a problem I’ll talk to Laswell, get ‘er to put ‘er fuckin’ dog back on ‘is leash. Owes me a favour.” He snagged the singular tea out of the tray of paper cups and lifted it in thanks. “See you lads later. Goin’ home. When Kristen comes in to pick up ‘er shitbox waive the fees an’ tell ‘er not to park there again. Pretend you’re riskin’ your ass doin’ it, she’ll prob’ly give one of you muppets ‘er your number.”
Johnny and Roach looked at each other, and immediately launched into a game of rock-paper-scissors to decide who would get to be the knight in dirty blue coveralls. Simon let the garage door bang shut behind him, and trudged across the dimly lit space to the back door. The acrid smell of weed smoke hung in the air, thin tendrils of it still drifting across the bars of sun coming through the back windows. Fucking muppets, smoking up while chief of police was steaming mad on the other side of the door. And they thought that Simon was the one who needed to be careful.
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I really need to let go of Hazbin and Helluva. I know I’m so stuck on them b/c in some cases they were soooo close to being really fantastic, and because the concepts seem so fun and like something I would genuinely love.
It’s much harder for me to stop thinking about art and media that I personally believe is almost really good, but just falls completely flat in its execution. If I find art just bad, then I usually forget it quickly.
I think my feelings on the Hellaverse are pretty much like Hbomberguy’s views on RWBY—they’re really just disappointing. There are moments where the stars seem to align and the writers aren’t afraid to take risks and let the shows breathe and then suddenly the character development is being retconned and the lore is all over the place and it’s over.
I really need to get a new hyper-fixation…
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breath expels in softly graced exhale, contentment solid within wingchair she's allowed herself to drift off against, lashes fluttering by warming heat of fire's blaze. comfortable and remarkably safe. it'd been a lengthy day, challenges and questions alike, various nosebleeds concocting successfully run tests. ( you don't mind, truly. the master of the establishment isn't frightening like papa— tad strict, but easier tenfold. how you hope you'll never need return to ceramic lined horror you've originated. ) limbs yawned before lips could part, as pogo plated a mug of hot chocolate upon the side table. wintery weather deemed destination on favourite position in the great main room. eyes merely closed sooner than realisation dawned. alas, churning open, blinking reality once more as softness coats curled up frame, mother's feathery touch tenderly assuring safety. " oh— " you're told to call her mother, to call them brother's and sister's. it doesn't seem right to you, not yet at least.
rubs eyelids a little harsh, opening and closing multiple times for the haze to disperse. marshmallow inside liquid completely dissolved; she was looking forward to that drink, too. smiles gently at caretaker, graciousness practically bleeding from pores. " thank you miss hargreeves. it is very cold today. " stretches tingling spine, tugging quilt underneath chin. household stills a quietude elle liked best, where flickering flames ignite, footsteps of pacing mysterious man on the floor above echoing. strain closer, and one can hear the pages turning of pogo's current book. " i didn't mean to fall asleep. i just felt really tired. ( ... ) will you like to sit with me? " neck twists, beckoning wordlessly towards wingchair only a few feet leftwards, gaze glimmering encouragement " this blanket is big enough for us both. "
@flovraelies : for the sender's muse to place a blanket on top of the receiver's muse after they've fallen asleep somewhere, from grace hargreeves.
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