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bettsfic · 3 years

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how i got an agent, or: my writing timeline

when i started writing, i had no idea how publishing worked and i had a lot of misconceptions about it. but i just signed my first literary agent so i thought i’d share what my experience has been getting to this point, in case it helps anyone else with their own publication goals. i’m also including financial details, like submission fees and income, because “i could never afford to pursue writing as a career” is something that kept me from taking the idea seriously.

for context, i write mostly literary fiction and i’m on the academic/scholarly writing path. this process looks a lot different for other genres.

i didn’t write this in my pretty nonfiction narrative voice; it’s really just the bare-bones facts of how it went down, how long it took, how many words i wrote (both fanfiction and original fiction), and how much it all cost.

background

2002 - 2005: read a fuckton of books, wrote some fiction, wanted to be a writer but knew it would never happen, journaled every moment of my life in intimate detail

2006: started working full-time (at a chinese restaurant) while still in high school, also started taking courses for college credit; no time to write, and forgot i had ever wanted to be a writer

2007: graduated high school, started college (psych major), still worked at the restaurant, moved out of my parents’ house into an apartment with my boyfriend; my dad got diagnosed with stage 3 colon cancer

2008: continued college full-time, quit the restaurant and started part-time as a bank teller, broke up with bf and moved in with a friend at an apartment where the rent was obscenely high; had to pick up a second job altering bridal gowns

2009: continued college full-time, started dating someone else, moved in with him, had to support him, took a third job as an admin assistant

2010: continued college full-time, still had 3 jobs; my dad’s cancer became terminal

2011: my dad passed away; i graduated college with a 3.9 and $31k of debt; quit 2 of 3 jobs; got promoted at the bank; my bf cheated on me and we broke up; moved back in with my mom

2012: a very dark time; also, bought a house (because where i’m from, it’s cheaper to buy than rent)

2013: discovered fandom

2014, age 24

this is the year i started writing and posting fanfic. prior to that i was a compulsive journaler but had no drive or desire to become a writer, despite how much i had written when i was a teenager. it seemed like a very childish dream. at this point i assumed writing was just a phase like all my other hobbies i’d picked up and set down.

but fandom proved to be really healthy for me, and i made some good friends who encouraged my writing and made me want to be better at it. i was really not very good at writing. i don’t think i had any natural creative talent whatsoever, or even a particularly vivid imagination. the only thing i had going for me was the ability to put thoughts into words after a decade of obsessive journaling.

i started writing in spring, and by the end of the year my total word count was 311k. i was making a decent income at the bank, insofar as my bills were covered and i had health insurance. i still had a significant amount of credit card debt from college that i was trying to pay down, and which was eating up all my extra income.

2015, age 25

i continued writing through 2015 and went to visit @aeriallon, whom i’d met in fandom and who told me i should consider applying to MFAs. i was miserable at the bank and knew i wanted to go back to school, but i didn’t think there was a chance in hell a grad program would accept me, since my writing wasn’t very good and i hadn’t so much as taken a single english class in undergrad. she told me to just look around and do a few google searches to see what i found.

when i started searching, i assumed i would probably be more compelled toward an MEd or MSW programs and go the therapy route, which is what the plan had been in undergrad before my dad died and my life got derailed. i never wanted to be a banker, but i’d got a promotion into commercial finance that paid decently, so i took it and told myself i’d work for a year before going back to school. but then i kept getting promoted and one year became many.

i ended up being more drawn to creative writing MFA programs because they seemed to want people with weird backgrounds like mine. also the classes sounded fun and the programs were funded. i didn’t know how i would be able to afford my mortgage payment or sell my house on a fraction of the income i was making at the bank, but i figured i’d apply and see what happened.

it took 6 months to get a writing sample ready to apply to MFAs. it was the only ofic story i’d written as an adult, and in retrospect i had no idea what i was doing because at that point i didn’t read literary short fiction. but i got the sample as good as i could get it and completed my applications. i applied to 6 schools and got accepted into 1.

in 2015 i wrote 250k. i can’t find my application spreadsheet from that year, but i probably spent between $300 and $400 on application fees. early in the year, i had finally managed to pay off my credit card debt and save a little bit of money.

2016, age 26

the school i got into was within driving distance of my house, so i didn’t bother moving. i tried to quit the bank but my boss convinced me to stay on 2 days a week working from home. i agreed to it, because my grad stipend wasn’t enough to cover my bills, and i was counting on what little savings i had accrued to get me through the program. i still had no drive or interest to publish. i mostly just wanted to go back to school so i could learn how to be better at this thing i really enjoyed doing.

in the MFA, as you might imagine, i had to read a lot of stuff and write a lot of stuff, and was encouraged to begin submitting some of the short stories i wrote for workshop. i was not particularly into the idea, considering it seemed like a lot of work for little reward, and also i didn’t think my stories were very good.

i also started teaching english comp. i hated it and decided that after the MFA, i never wanted to do it again. haha. hahahahahaha

in 2016 i wrote 343k. i didn’t apply/submit in 2016 so i didn’t pay any fees, but my grad stipend was $14k for the academic year, plus the income i was making at the bank.

2017, age 27

i did a complete 180 and decided i loved teaching more than anything else in the entire world, and i was willing to do whatever it took to become a teacher. i realized that to become a teacher, i needed to publish. begrudgingly i started submitting to literary journals. i also applied to summer workshops and got into tin house, which i highly recommend if that’s something you’re interested in. at tin house i met my dream agent, who seemed really interested in my work and encouraged me to query her as soon as i had a book done.

a lot of personal drama happened that year. i was still working at the bank in addition to teaching a 2/2 and taking a full course load. in summer i had a long overdue mental breakdown.

2017 was a rough year. i wrote 149k. this is the year i started keeping a dedicated expenses spreadsheet. i spent $174 in submission fees. tin house tuition with room and board was a little over $1500 + travel. i thought it was worth it because i met the agent i thought i would later sign, but that didn’t pan out. (i made some great friends though!!) tin house was definitely an unwise financial decision; i paid for it out of what little i managed to save in 2015.

2018, age 28

early in 2018, i went from teaching comp/rhet to creative writing, which only cemented my desire to teach writing as a career. i realized i was far better at teaching writing than writing, but i knew i had to keep writing to keep teaching (shocked pikachu.jpg), so i kept submitting to journals. i got my first story accepted. i didn’t receive any payment for that publication. i quit the bank early in the year (finally! after 10 years!) and was terrified about money, in part because my student loan payments were coming out of deferment and i was still paying off my hospital bills from my breakdown.

in spring semester, i won a few departmental awards (totaling $500ish) and got a second story accepted (again, no payment). i also got accepted to another workshop which i will not name because i hated it. i graduated in may and defended my thesis in july. the thesis would later become my short story collection, zucchini.

in fall, i stayed on at my school as an adjunct, and started writing training wheels which would later become an original novel called baby.

i wrote 450k in 2018. i paid $373 in submission fees. i was also nominated for an award for one of my publications but didn’t win. the workshop i went to was like $4000 with room and board (it was a month-long workshop). i got 75% of it covered with scholarships and i paid for the rest of it out of my savings, and even though i’d intended to drive there, my mom ended up buying me a plane ticket. again, i met a lot of big-wig writers i thought for sure would help me get an agent. i told myself i was networking, and that publication was all about Who You Knew. but that turned out not to be true for me.

as an adjunct i made $3200 per course, and i taught 3 classes in fall. in winter, i got my shit together and started applying for creative writing PhDs, mostly to convince my family i was doing something with my life, with no expectation that i would get in. in winter i applied to 2 schools. with application fees and the GRE, i ended up paying well over $500.

2019, age 29

in spring semester, i taught 2 classes while i revised training wheels into baby. when i had a completed manuscript, i finally pulled the plug and used all my networking contacts to get my dream agent i’d met at tin house. i queried her, and a very popular and well-regarded author i’d met at the other workshop emailed her on my behalf to tell her good things about me. i thought for sure i had it in the bag. this author also touched base with a few other agents whom he thought would like my work.

i didn’t hear back from any of them. not even a “no thanks.” i set down querying for a while.

i got a third story picked up and published around this time, and i was paid $25 for it. they also nominated me for an award, and i don’t think i won? but i can’t find out who did win so idk.

my grandpa passed away and i decided to sell my house and move in with my grandma so she wouldn’t be alone. i got rejected from both PhD programs i applied to and decided to get a “real job” instead, and began applying for random positions that offered health insurance, because i knew i was drastically undermedicated and it was becoming a Problem.

near the end of spring semester, i moved out of my house, put it on the market, and was interviewing for a community development manager position for a nonprofit. at the same time, i found out about another university that was taking late-season applications, and i applied. five days later, i got accepted. one day after that, i got a job offer for the nonprofit. since i had no idea how long it would take for my house to sell, and being unable to afford both rent in a new city and my mortgage payment, i deferred my PhD acceptance for a year and decided to work at the nonprofit for a while. the risk was that i could only defer my admission, not my funding, so there was a chance that the following year i wouldn’t get the same funding package.

i lasted one month at the “real job” before i had another breakdown and ended up quitting.

my house sold for well under the asking price and i received only $4000 in equity once it was all said and done. that’s a lot of money to me, but considering that i’d been paying on the house for 7 years, i was expecting a lot more.

i had a year to kill until the PhD so i decided to take a break from teaching and apply to artist residencies instead. i applied to 8 residencies and got accepted into 4, but only ended up attending 3, because the 4th was outrageously priced and there was no indication of the cost when i had applied.

in winter i picked up querying agents again. i queried 10 agents every other week. i also got a ghostwriting gig writing children’s books that paid $800 a month.

in 2019 i wrote 417k. i spent $441 in submission fees (to residencies and contests, not agent queries. never pay money to query an agent!!). i ended up teaching 3 classes fall semester.

2020, age 30

i started out the year driving across the country going to residencies. the first cost $100 (no food), the second cost $250 (A LOT OF VERY GOOD FOOD), and the third paid me $500. i was at the third when the pandemic hit.

the query rejections started rolling in. i gave up in february after 60 queries. of those 60, i received 7 manuscript requests for baby, but the consensus was that it was too long and plotless (you got me there.jpg). at the second residency completed and revised zucchini and decided to begin querying with that instead. i could only find a few agents who accepted collections so i only queried 16. i got one request for the manuscript but then didn’t hear back. i gave up in april shortly after the pandemic hit.

when i figured the collection, like the novel, just wasn’t publishable, i started submitting to contests which is the more standard route for the genre. i submitted to 12 in total and was a finalist in 1. i was rejected or withdrew from the rest.

the PhD program reached out to ask if i was still interested in starting in fall, and i said i was, so they put me in the running for funding again and i was accepted. the stipend was $17k per academic year.

like most of us, i got totally derailed in spring and stopped doing basically everything. the ghostwriting gig started paying $1500 a month and i also started my creative coaching business, which slowly but surely began to supplement my income. i also received the $1200 stimulus.

when school started, i quit the ghostwriting gig. i had no intention to continue querying either book, but i saw a twitter pitch event called DVpit (diverse voices) and decided to participate. for those who don’t know, a twitter pitch event is where you tweet the pitch for your book and use the hashtag, and agents scroll through the tag and like tweets. if an agent likes your tweet, you query them.

i got one like, so i followed up with the query. the agent asked for the full MS and a couple weeks later followed up with the offer for representation. we talked on the phone, she sent me the contract, i asked for a couple changes, and then signed!

so far this year i’ve written 375k and paid $518 in submission fees. i’ll give more details when i do my end of year roundup next month. oh, and i finally paid off my student loans.

totals

word count: 2.3 million

agent queries: 77

agent MS requests: 9

agent rejections: 28

agent no responses: 44

short story submissions: 86

short story acceptances: 3

short story income: $25

total submission/application fees: $1472

my (final) query letter

honestly this query letter probably isn’t very good which is why i got such a minimal response, but it got the job done eventually.

Thank you for expressing interest in ZUCCHINI through this year's DVpit event.

ZUCCHINI is a collection that views sex through an asexual lens. It poses inquiries into constructs like gender, sexuality, and love to dissect the patriarchal/puritanical foundations from which our social perspectives often derive. Being a collection about asexuality, each story portrays a relationship that develops from forms of attraction other than physical.

In one story, a grieving widow purchases her first sex toy; in another, a woman uses sex to cope with the death of her abusive father, and later in the collection faces the long road to recovery; an administrative assistant seeks out a codependent relationship with her boss; a masochist hires a professional sadist to lead him toward self-actualization; a woman begins to recover from her sexual assault by staging a reenactment on her own terms; and lastly, two lifelong friends in a queerplatonic relationship decide to get married. Asexuality is an under-acknowledged identity within the LGBTQIA community and is often misunderstood. In seven stories, ZUCCHINI dissects the notion of attraction, explores the intersections of sexual identity and trauma recovery, and conveys the experience of intimacy without physical desire.

Three stories in the collection have been published in literary magazines. “Lien” appeared in volume 24 of Quarter After Eight and was nominated for the PEN/Robert J. Dau Short Story Prize for Emerging Writers. “An Informed Purchase” appeared in the summer 2018 issue of Midwestern Gothic and won the Jordan-Goodman Prize in Fiction. “The Ashtray” appeared in issue 16 of Rivet Journal and has been nominated for a 2020 Pushcart Prize.

Complete at 53,000 words, ZUCCHINI is a collection in conversation with Carmen Maria Machado’s HER BODY AND OTHER PARTIES, Lauren Groff’s FLORIDA, and Samantha Hunt’s THE DARK DARK.

If ZUCCHINI is of interest to you, I would be happy to send you the manuscript. Per your guidelines, I've appended the first twenty pages below, which is the entirety of the first story.

what comes next

i’m going to spend january revising the collection per my agent’s feedback. when i send it back to her, she’ll shoot it out to the first round of publishers. my understanding is that the goal is to get multiple offers on it so that it has to go to auction. if there are no offers, she’ll do another round of submissions, and so on, until we’ve exhausted our options. if that happens, we’ll reassess, but by then hopefully i’ll have another novel finished.

meanwhile, i’ll be continuing the PhD which entails teaching a 2/2, workshop, and 2 lit seminars per semester. i’m also still doing my creative coaching, writing fanfic, and working on my original projects. in summer, i’ll finally be moving to hopefully start going to school in person next fall.

the PhD is a 3 year program with an optional fourth year. i don’t see myself finishing in 3 years so i do plan to take the extra year unless something comes up. after the PhD, i’m not sure what i’ll do. a lot will probably change by then so i’m trying not to commit to one idea. i might apply to post-doc fellowships and tenure track positions, or i might leave the country and teach overseas, or i might move to LA and try to get in a writer’s room somewhere. i’ve got a lot of options.

overall thoughts/stuff i learned

first of all, you don’t have to go through all of this to publish a book. you could feasibly just write a book and query agents. the only reason it took me this long is because my PTSD brain was sabotaging me every step of the way and i didn’t start taking anything seriously until i found something i was willing to fight for (teaching). i went the MFA/literary route but other, faster routes are just as good. maybe better. probably better. actually if there’s any chance you can go a different route, you should take it.

reflecting on all of this, very little of it has anything to do with talent or being a good writer. nor does it have to do with being at the right place at the right time. i’ve only made it this far because i took very small steps over and over again, and during that walk met people who could help me -- the authors who have mentored me, the editors who accepted my stories, the agent who signed me. and as i got further along my path, i started being able to help other writers in the way i was helped.

i don’t believe i’ll ever be a great writer. the best thing i can say about my writing is that it’s competent and accessible. everything i write sets out to do something and most of the time it gets the job done. i don’t imagine i’ll ever be able to financially support myself with publishing, and i’ll certainly never be famous or well-known, but i’m good enough to keep making progress. i’ll probably continue to find opportunities that are adjacent to writing and that will keep me afloat, pending my health and provided the country doesn’t devolve into civil war.

probably the most important thing i learned in all this is that having a wide appeal isn’t the goal. you don’t write to be lauded or liked. you have to stay as true to yourself and your interests as you possibly can, so that the people who come across your path can see you and help you. you’ll need those people; no one gets anywhere alone. if you pander, if you’re too concerned with praise and success or being adored, you won’t make it very far. the rejection will eventually kill you.

with all that said, my advice to you is this: never stop writing. the ability to share our stories is the single most precious thing we have. you can’t let anything stop you from telling your stories the way you need them to be told.

#writing advice #the writing life #writing update

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thelittleredheadedmusician · 3 years

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First Lines

So @klaineharmony @wordshakerofgallifrey and @radioactivepigeons all tagged me to do this so uh here it is. This is NOT including academic stuff. But it IS including original work.

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag some lovely people!

Hitch Hiker - my book:

It’s raining, hard enough to hit the windshield in fat drops though he can still clearly see the wet road ahead. Oliver isn’t speeding, in high school he would’ve flown around the curves out of town. But now? Coming home and in bad weather? He manages to stay just below the speed limit. And a good thing too.

I don’t want to linger any longer - DCU, Batman, Green Arrow:

Alfred was leery of the summer camp. Bruce went to public school partially because of Martha's pointed remarks regarding democracy and public education, partly because of her pointed remarks regarding Thomas's own time at boarding schools and prep schools surrounded by equally rich and entitled boys. Alfred never said anything at the time, it wasn't his place, and would never say anything now but, he whole heartedly believed both. Especially after his own childhood in private schools, even if the times and the British and American systems were very different. Regardless, Bruce was remaining in public school with all the trials it entailed. Including the socializing problem.

untitled post final chapter short for Hitch Hiker:

“I’m so glad I get to be here for this,” Eve practically flung herself onto the couch, bouncing slightly before settling. She’d just gotten dropped off after rehearsal and was miraculously still teeming with energy.

Give Me the Stars - an original short story:

Morgan leaned closer to the mirror, shifting her hair so she could examine the new growth near her scalp. It was a dark, almost dull brown and the scalp itself didn’t seem red or irritated. She half combed her fingers through it while she shook her hand loose of the strands. Where the few centimeters of brown ended, a shifting cascade of colors began. A swirl or wave or reflection of green and blue and purple with notes of black and pink and sometimes silver. Like an oil slick made tangible. Except, after two months it’d lost its glimmer, its shine. Which didn’t really matter since Morgan spent about seventy percent of the time tucking it up under one hat or another.

glitter and gold - DCU:

She hadn’t been expecting the second explosion. None of them had been expecting the second explosion. Luckily, they were all clear of the debris but Steph’s ears were ringing. A gut feeling said her comm had been knocked out but it’s not like she’d be able to tell right now anyway. She swayed, unsteady. But Batgirl had to worry about the people around her, not herself. A cursory glance looked as though the block’s residents had gotten back far enough before the blast hit. Leaving them covered in dust but unharmed.

five phones on the table - DCU, Titans:

The long table with its numerous chairs was, by proximity to the kitchen, a dining table but due to the nature of the building it occupied doubled as a meeting and strategy table. The small net, paddles, and light plastic balls stored in an innocuous box in the kitchen meant it tripled as a ping pong table.

Adulting Fail - DCU, Titans, Nightwing:

“RICHARD JOHN GRAYSON,” Donna says and for an instant he wonders how a woman who has never met his mother can sound exactly like her. But then again, Donna has always been and will always be his older sister, never mind the fact neither are sure if it’s by three months or three thousand years.

Seventh Floor Walkup - DCU, Titans, Nightwing:

Dick may slightly regret asking his friends to help him move. See, he didn’t have the funds for real movers but had promised pizza if they helped. Except Roy and Garth could each eat a whole pizza, Donna could eat two, and Wally half a baker’s dozen. Which left Dick carrying eleven boxes of pizza to his seventh-floor walkup.

Et tu Brute - DCU, Flash, Batman:

“What the-?” Barry shifted his momentum with ease, turning from where he’d been running towards the Batcomputer and Bruce waiting there for him to instead run towards the metallic object low to the ground and glowing a dull green he’d spotted out of the corner of his eye.

you were shunned and burned your cradle - Newsies:

Being a changeling in New York City hurts. It makes his skin itch and his lungs burn and his eyes water. From the iron that surrounds him, fills the very air along with the smoke. If he’s not careful when he reaches out or brushes against something his skin comes away with a sharp, searing scar.

The Devil Wears What? - DCU, Hellblazer, Zatanna:

“What is this?” John slurred, arm flopping towards the television screen.

The Hattrick - DCU, Green Arrow, Hellblazer:

There is a strong possibility that Mia is in hell. It’d be vaguely poetic and certainly fitting if her personal hell were an empty warehouse. The fact John Constantine is here definitely sells the idea.

Inhouse House Party - Les Miserables:

“I thought we agreed that we weren’t doing Halloween this year?” Enjolras half grumbled, half called up the steps. “In light of the fact that there is a global pandemic and we’ve been responsibly quarantining and social distancing this whole time.” Despite his complaints, he still fixed the ridiculous headband he wore as part of his costume. The halved wiffle ball glued onto it made pretty decent looking fly eyes, but the weight was weird and the whole thing kept slipping as a result.

Second Time is Coincidence - DCU, Green Arrow, Hellblazer:

“Oh c’mon,” Mia groaned, slumping against the bonds that currently had her suspended from the warehouse ceiling. “Not you again!”

Three Musketeers - DCU, Batfam:

Bristol was technically in Gotham City limits. Though the gilted mansions and private woods with pastures and stables seemed like a whole other world in comparison. The residents liked to think so too, especially because – despite Gotham’s robust public transportation system – it was almost impossible to reach the rich suburb from the city proper. It was because they lived in this separate world that Bristol’s wealthy residents often fought to receive special treatment or even secede from the city all together.

Deal? Deal. - DCU, Hellblazer, Zatanna:

“No,” John whined, drawing it out into about six syllables. He stretched his arm out, nearly falling off the couch in the process, but Zatanna just pushed the half-empty glass of whiskey further away from the edge of the coffee table and out of his reach.

Pumpkin Guts - Les Miserables:

There had been strange noises coming from the kitchen all afternoon. Combeferre was staunchly ignoring them because he’s trying to finish reading this journal article before anyone else came home. Having Courfeyrac in the vague direction of behind him and doing who knew what all is more than enough of a distraction. Besides, Ferre can fairly well ignore the sounds coupled with Courf’s slightly off-key humming of Nightmare Before Christmas.

Sunrise Shadows - DCU, Batgirl, Starman:

It was late, or early depending on your perspective, and Steph was that bone deep tired that came after a fight to save the fate of the world. Which was fine, they’d won, but she didn’t really know where in the world she was and Steph really just wanted to crawl into bed. Maybe take her suit off first. Possibly slap some Neosporin on her cuts and scrapes. But mostly sleep.

The Good Stuff - Newsies:

Kath pulled her favorite armchair into the doorway of her apartment. The antique wingback her friends had helped her liberate from a thrift store in Queens and then clean and reupholster. It was, undeniably, too heavy to be shoved across the hardwood like that but Kath wanted to be comfy. And there were the little felt things on the legs to protect her floor.

Salt and Iron - DCU, Batgirl:

Steph pried her bedroom window open before slipping in and closing it firmly behind herself. Then locked it for good measure. Sure, she’d seen some weirdness since first putting on a mask, and just a few months into her time as Batgirl she’d even fought off some Segway riding vampires with Kara. But this was different. For one, they weren’t real vampires but Dracula from an old film brought to life. For another, it looked like literal hell had overtaken Gotham.

Well, I either have really long opening lines or my understanding of what constitutes opening “lines” is skewed. Also my formatting didn’t always past so poo on tumblr for that. Hmm, this is mostly Halloween fics but also fairly indicative of what I write which is nice. I like that I start with dialogue so often, it’s weirdly fitting for me as a person. The cold open musing on Gotham’s social, political, economic structure at Three Musketeers isn’t my favorite but I am obsessed with it. I think Second Time is Coincidence is my favorite because Mia’s response to John is the only response anyone should ever have to John Constantine.

All of my friends have already been tagged~

#long post #writing #own writing #my fic #original writing

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theeddiewarnerstory · 4 years

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IndieView with Imania Margria, author of The Pacemaker

The Pacemaker was based off a nightmare I had. I wrote most of what I could remember down, and it transformed into this.

Imania Margria – 19 December 2019

The Back Flap

Minerva Walsh forgot everything about her life before her eighteenth birthday. Since then, betrayal, hardship and strife plagued her life over the last five years, and good fortune was never on her side. However, when Minerva receives a full-paid scholarship to the most prestigious school in the country, Calendula University, and is given a chance to restart her miserable life, she feels her luck has changed.

But after arriving, the dark shadows and deadly secrets looming underneath the serene façade of this academic paradise shows Minerva that her new life is far from the peaceful escape she thought it would be. She learns about the curse haunting the university and claiming innocents’ lives in unusual accidents. Minerva also gains a strange power which lets her control the heartbeats of time and space and enter a world outside of reality. To solve the mystery behind Calendula’s curse, Minerva must use her new powers to investigate the secrets surrounding this elite school before the curse claims the lives of those close to her. But as she draws near the truth, pieces of her missing past come to light. Can Minerva unravel the mystery behind her forgotten memories and the school’s curse? Or will she become its next victim?

About the book

What is the book about?

The Pacemaker is about unlucky, amnesiac Minerva Walsh winning a full-paid scholarship to the college of elites, geniuses and scholars, Calendula University and having to learn to adapt to her new home. She soon learns it’s not all glitz and glam when she discovers this academic paradise is swarming with dark shadows and deadly secrets. One of these shadows is the curse which is responsible for claiming the several victims’ lives in unusual accidents. Not soon after learning about the curse, Minerva develops a strange ability that lets her control the fluctuations of time and space and enter a world outside reality. Minerva must use her new powers to investigate the truth behind this curse before it claims more lives.

When did you start writing the book?

January 2018.

How long did it take you to write it?

It took a bit over a year to finish The Pacemaker.

Where did you get the idea from?

The Pacemaker was based off a nightmare I had. I wrote most of what I could remember down, and it transformed into this.

Were there any parts of the book where you struggled?

The dark scenes were difficult for me. I’m very sensitive to circumstances like that. So, if I write a dark, depressing scene, the character’s feelings transfer to me, and I’ll be in a heavy mood for a while.

What came easily?

The romantic and action scenes. I’m better at writing romance and action (mostly supernatural or fantasy) scenes than dark scenes because they can be emotionally draining.

Are your characters entirely fictitious or have you borrowed from real world people you know?

All characters are fictitious.

Do you have a target reader?

My target reader is late teenage years about 18+. Mentality wise someone who likes supernatural or fantasy mixed with some psychological thrills, romance, some sex, and lots of drama

About Writing

Do you have a writing process? If so, can you please describe it?

Yes. I have a process. First, I write out a general outline and figure out the titles of the chapters and how many there will be. Next, I write out the separate outlines for each chapter and make chapter checklists for writing, editing, reading, rewriting, final editing, and final reading. And finally, I start writing everything out mostly in pen and paper first. I like to have a first draft for my records, and it makes easier for me when I type it up later. I used to not have a process, and it drove me mad. It took me forever to get anything done. Whenever I organize what I need to write or make checklists of what I need to get done, it makes accomplishing those goals easier and motivates me to finish them.

Do you outline? If so, do you do so extensively or just chapter headings and a couple of sentences?

I do outline and make checklists. I figure out the overall outline of the story then the chapters’ names and finally their individual outlines. I also make checklists for writing, editing, reading, rewriting, final editing, and final reading.

Do you edit as you go or wait until you’ve finished?

I would edit after each chapter. Then I read through the entire book and do a point edit before doing a final edit, rewrite, and read.

Did you hire a professional editor?

Yes.

Do you listen to music while you write? If yes, what gets the fingers tapping?

Yes. I do listen to music. The kind varies depending on the story and scene. But I normally make playlists, under the names of the books I’m working on via YouTube of the music I listened to while writing. I make them public while I’m editing and marketing the books.

About Publishing

Did you submit your work to Agents?

No, not really. Since I’m not interested in working with a major publisher. I will hire a PR agent for my upcoming works to help me market my books from Sep 2020- on.

What made you decide to go Indie, whether self-publishing or with an indie publisher? Was it a particular event or a gradual process?

I decided to go indie because I like being in full control of the publishing and marketing process. I also like to have complete ownership of my work and not worry about it being tied to a specific publisher until my contract runs out or when I get lawyers involved to retrieve all rights from that publisher. It’s been a hard, long learning process, but I love the freedom of being my own boss.

Did you get your book cover professionally done or did you do it yourself?

I use a professional. For The Pacemaker, Panagiotis Lampridis from https://bookdesignstars.com/ made the cover.

Do you have a marketing plan for the book or are you just winging it?

I try to create a marketing plan, but it depends on my budget. For now, I’m kinda improvising.

Any advice that you would like to give to other newbies considering becoming Indie authors?

Plan everything. Not just the book you’re working on. Plan out the costs for book cover and interior design. Plan the costs for editors and publishing (if you don’t decide to use Amazon and use Ingram or something). If you use a service like Ingram, plan the name for the publishing name you want to use (because you are the publisher if you use their service and buy your own ISBN and barcode). Most newbie indie authors think you just need to write your book find a publishing company and release your book, then you’re done. (I’ve been there done that.) They don’t realize that’s the easy part. The most important part is marketing your book and getting it to potential readers to get those first reviews and sales. Planning out a thorough marketing strategy and executing it is crucial to the success of your book. Because as an indie author, unless you’re publishing with an independent publisher (not Amazon, Lulu or Ingram), you have to be the writer, editor, PR agent and so much more. You don’t have the same liberties that traditionally or indie authors published by an independent or hybrid publishers have.

About You

Where did you grow up?

I’m Jersey girl born and raised. I was born in Livingston, spent my first 12 years of my life in East Orange and then the rest in Kearny, NJ.

Where do you live now?

I still live in Jersey.

What would you like readers to know about you?

I’m a down-to-earth person who’s kinda shy. I’m just recently becoming more active in social media and literary events like poetry reads. I’ve been absent on there for a while, because I’ve been caught up finishing The Pacemaker and learning to stand in front of a crowd again since I tend to do in-person events for my upcoming 2020 novels, Eyes and Scarlet Moon. Follow my social media for more updates on locations: https://linktr.ee/imaniamargria .

For this new year, I want to connect more with my readers, and let them get to know more about who I really am. I’m going to try and be more active on social media and even make a vlog so they can see a little into my process and life. I also want them to become more involved in my development as a writer. So, I made a Patreon page where my readers can subscribe for as little as 3 dollars and get one-on-one contact with me, access to exclusive canon content that won’t be released to the general public, opportunities to get a sneak peek at chapters of upcoming books or becoming a beta reader or an ARC reviewer. This not only helps me connect with my readers but helps me get an idea about what they want, receive direct feedback, dedicate all my time to them and my writing, and create new high-quality content. Link to join is https://www.patreon.com/imaniamargria .

What are you working on now?

Currently, I’m doing final rewrites and edits on my romantic suspense novel, Eyes, so it could be released in the coming spring. https://linktr.ee/eyesthebook It will be available everywhere books are sold.

End of Inteview:

Get your copy of The Pacemaker from Amazon US or Amazon UK.

source http://www.theindieview.com/2019/12/19/indieview-with-imania-margria-author-of-the-pacemaker/

The post IndieView with Imania Margria, author of The Pacemaker appeared first on The Eddie Warner Story.

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jddesignsuk · 5 years

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27 ways to land your first job in Graphic Design + How I did it

How I broke into design

“Why haven’t you done your maths homework?!” That’s what I’d be asked most evenings during my formative years, when I’d rather create new Transformer characters, or design new Nike Air shoes. The ability to create something from nothing and then give it personality and style was what captivated me.

During the last years of secondary school, my art teacher would let me skip other classes so I could perfect my sketching and design skills.

Thanks to being the youngest of three children (and thus being a master manipulator), I always had an excuse ready for when other teachers would ask why I’d missed their lesson.

“Although I had a wide range of interests, a career in art and design was my destiny. Until I met a careers advisor…”

My grades across all subjects were slightly above average, apart from Art & Design, where I excelled and would transform into a miserable brat if I ever achieved anything under an A grade. Although I had a wide range of interests, a career in art and design was my destiny. Until I met a career advisor…

On one particular day, pupils were invited to meet a careers advisor who would help us choose the right path when going out into the big wide world. I was ushered into a small room and met by a very bland looking middle-aged man, with a dull grey suit and a tone of voice to match. To me, my path into design was clear so I didn’t expect much help. Despite hearing my obvious enthusiasm, he dismissed my life ambition as quickly as he could roll his eyes. He told me – with absolute certainty – that I’d be wasting my time pursuing design as there weren’t any jobs or money to be made in the industry. He and other influential figures in my life proclaimed that I should follow my Sister, who excelled at all things academic, and become a manager at a leading bank in London.

And just like that, my entire career had been decided for me.

I decided (with rose-tinted glasses on) that I could make money in a standard business role and fulfil my creative dreams during my evenings and weekends. Oh, how naive I was.

I secured my first job as a production coordinator at a food and beverage trading company overlooking Tower Bridge. On my first day, I arrived wearing an ill-fitting grey suit and a carrier bag containing a just-ham sandwich and a grey umbrella. My careers advisor would’ve been so proud.

It became clear pretty quickly that there was no future for me in this industry. Any idea of fulfilling my creative dreams during my evenings and weekends were dashed by a job that drained my creative juices and demanded late nights to meet deadlines. The final nail in the coffin came when the MD would regularly send me away to a tiny, dark room alone to gather samples of citric acid which could be used to clean his yacht.

My time wasn’t completed wasted though. Not that it didn’t feel like it at the time, especially when I was being made to earn my stripes through some excessive delegation from senior colleagues who spent their afternoons in the pub. But thanks to a good work ethic and actively seeking advice from mentors, I climbed the ranks and became a manager soon enough.

Whilst I was busy wondering what education I was missing at university, I developed important, real-life skills in the workplace, where it mattered. Managing and motivating colleagues, building relationships, meeting deadlines within set budgets and problem solving helped build the foundations for running my own business later down the line.

Despite the promotion, I remained unfulfilled and I decided that my job would have to suffer in order to achieve my dream. I enrolled at the London College of Communication and took a series of courses in the evenings that would span across 3 years.

My eyes were opened immediately as I stepped through the university doors. Incredible designs, created by students, adorned the walls and provided me with a huge sense of inspiration and purpose.

“Each of us had experienced an unfulfilling career and were desperate for change.”

I met other students in a similar position to my own, who wanted to escape other careers and venture towards something creative. We shared a drive stronger than many students who take the 3 year degree in graphic design; each of us had experienced an unfulfilling career and were desperate for change.

It was during these classes that I learned the fundamentals and principles of good design. I’ll forever be thankful to the amazing lecturers, particularly to Paul Chamberlain for his seemingly unending wealth of knowledge and his willingness to share it, both in the lecture hall and in the pub.

One of my finest moments as a designer (even to this day) came during the end of year exhibition, where the best designs throughout the year were showcased to the university and public. I was shocked to find my poster layout promoting the London Olympics given a feature, receiving praise from some respected figures at the university. My work was now adorning the same halls that had so inspired me when I began the course three years prior.

That sense of achievement and pride was nothing I’d felt before; I wanted more of it!

I gave in my notice (a bit too proudly) and quit my role in food and beverage distribution and looked to the future with excitement and eagle-eyed focus.

I deleted my very corporate CV designed in Microsoft Word and set about creating a CV and portfolio that would attract a creative director. Whilst some recruiters were confused and possibly put off by my unconventional career path, I landed a role in production and design at a leading promotional merchandise company in Shoreditch.

It felt like I’d been adopted by a family rather than enduring the standard awkward greetings on a new employee’s first day. This friendly, outgoing and ambitious team, coupled with a creative role gave me unbelievable satisfaction. Plus, there were wasn’t a grey suit in sight!

Starting a design job in a promotional merchandise company wasn’t a conventional route into a design career. But then, I hadn’t followed a conventional designer’s career path. However, creating artwork and managing the end-to-end process developed that sense of responsibility for managing the client’s needs. I had the opportunity to produce innovative designs and creative promotional merchandise for major clients that helped develop my role into a senior creative and management position.

“I created my own degree”

Despite being guided to a different career path and some long hours learning graphic design, I’m thankful that I went the extra mile to achieve my dream. It wasn’t the conventional or recommended path. In a sense, I created my own degree through learning key soft-skills in the workplace during the day, whilst mastering graphic design in the evenings and weekends.

The common advice is to encourage young designers to enrol at university, which I wouldn’t argue with. My point is that there are other ways to be successful in design, especially in the modern age. Some of the largest global businesses are recognising that candidates with hands-on experience through online courses or similar methods can make the same impact as candidates with a degree. Google, Apple and IBM are amongst an increasing number of companies who no longer require applicants to have a degree. Having that work-place experience, becoming multi-skilled, developing people and management skills will help future proof your career in an age where gains in technology are at such a pace that great design skills alone won’t stop you from becoming obsolete.

An easier and more effective way of reaping the same benefits of my journey is to apply for an internship, whether you’re at university or not.

One incredible reward of an internship is that you have the opportunity to learn on the job, with an experienced designer to guide you. Learning by ‘doing’ is quicker, easier, for most of us and means that repeating the same skill next time isn’t as intimidating. You’ll feel a greater sense of achievement completing a real-life project and grow in confidence with every successful task. Becoming a skilled, reliable and integrated team member could even bring you paid work from that company, or at least a glowing reference.

Sometimes you don’t know how far you’ve come until you look back…at your Inbetweeners haircut whilst listening to some garage classics. The journey is different for us all, but the secret to achieving my dream was pretty simple. It just takes an open mind, a passion for creating, perseverance and above all, self-belief!

27 ways to land your first job in Graphic Design:

Deciding who you want to be is often not an easy decision for most of us. You may have a passion for design, but how do you go about making the jump? If you’re a budding designer, here’s my advice to securing your first graphic design job:

Starting from the bottom

There is no golden ticket into this saturated field: you must have a strong work-ethic, with the passion and imagination to get yourself noticed.

Career Change: if you’re thinking about switching careers from an industry that seems completely untransferable, it’s not too late. You may be unaware of several skills that’ll help you in design, which may put you ahead of other candidates, such as the ability to confidently pitch to clients.

Understand Graphic Design: well duh! There are some great courses on Udemy and Skillshare at amazing prices. There are also plenty of free tutorials available on YouTube.

It’s ok to be rubbish: be prepared to be absolutely useless when starting something new. This’ll help you develop patience and appreciate the mastery you’ll pick up in the long term.

Buying design equipment and software is a necessary evil: fear not! There are savings to be made. You can save around 65% on the Adobe Creative Cloud Student Subscription. Also check out Quidco for cashback on Adobe subscriptions and stock images.

Mean business: if you pursue a university degree, find courses or mentors who can teach you key business skills that’ll help you transition into the workplace.

Get organised: with so many channels available to promote yourself, organising these promotion tactics can be daunting. Set yourself achievable goals and give yourself a deadline for each. For example, learn a new software skill by the end of the month. Use a notebook to write down your plan of action, or setup a free account with Trello to organise tasks.

Create Pinterest boards: create your own Pinterest boards with designs that’ll help with inspiration for your next project. Examine what makes it a good design to help you understand the principles of design.

Look around you: Don’t rely solely on the internet for creative ideas. Look for inspiration everywhere you go and from everyone you meet.

Break out of your comfort zone: mastering one skill or piece of software is definitely a good thing, but getting out of your comfort zone and learning something new will develop confidence and provide more opportunities for future employment.

Get out there: the self-taught route can be a lonely experience. Join local groups and find other designers who can share experiences and skills. An accountability partner is a fantastic way to keep you motivated and on course.

Build on the relationships you already have: send a DM to your social media contacts and look for opportunities. Be friendly, whilst getting to the point.

Imposter Syndrome: most of us encounter this, normally early in our careers and especially if, like me, you haven’t followed the traditional route into design. Take a moment to appreciate what you’ve achieved, the positive feedback you’ve had and stop comparing yourself to others.

Understand User Experience (UX): as a designer, it’s important to put the customer first, by knowing how to design products with good usability and user pleasure.

Create a portfolio: To land that first role in design, you won’t get anywhere without a portfolio. Display only your best work, explain the challenges you encountered and the process of how you reached the final design. Proof-read the portfolio and covering letter and ask someone else to check it as well.

Free work: A very controversial topic, of which there are many opinions. I believe that whilst you’re starting out and developing a portfolio, it’s OK to offer cheap or even free work. However, make it clear to the client that you’ll be charging your standard rate for future work. As you start to show your worth and your demand rises, don’t undervalue yourself or your time.

Share your work: whether it’s on your own website (which we’d highly recommend), Behance, Dribbble, social media or Youtube, get your work out there. This is a great way to build followers and get seen by employers.

Give value: this may be difficult when you’re starting out, but simply sharing your process can inspire others. We have a free stock photo section on our website, providing free images for blogs, social media and anything else. This increases traffic on our website and increases engagement with customers.

Are you listening?: before you start creating what you think will be a great design for your portfolio, take time to understand the brief, how the design will best connect with audiences and ask questions if you’re unclear.

Sign me up: subscribe to blogs from brands that you love: Take note of why you’re attracted to them and what elements of their marketing make you want to engage with them in the future.

CV: Businesses advertising for designers often receive hundreds of applications, so it’s vital that your CV is on point. Keep it within a double sided A4 sheet. Ensure to include the following details – Full name, Job title, Contact, Objectives, Skills, Work Experience, Clients, Achievements, Qualifications and Interests. There’s no need to add your age or photo. Spelling check it, then save it as a compressed PDF and ensure all the hyperlinks work.

Don’t blanket-mail portfolios: Decide who you really want to work for. Tailor your portfolio and covering letter to the job you’re applying for. Applying for a designer role at a magazine company? Showcase your best layouts and demonstrate you understand typography. If there isn’t a contact name on the job description, phone the company and find out who will be managing the vacancy. It adds that personal touch and will help you get noticed.

Internships: As mentioned in our blog, internships are a fantastic way to develop your design and soft-skills under the mentorship of experienced professionals. Check out The Dots, Rate My Placement and Inspiring Interns for the latest placements. Once you’ve secured an internship, make yourself indispensable by doing everything asked of you. Roll your sleeves up and check if there’s anything else you can do to help the team. Going above and beyond will help you stand out and make you a valuable asset. Your team will know you’re there to learn, so don’t be afraid to ask questions.

The big interview: Before an interview, exceed expectations by doing your homework on the company and the person interviewing you. Go the extra mile by thinking of ways in which the company can improve. For example, is there a section missing on their website that would really benefit their business. And of course, arrive early, look the part, sit up straight, speak clearly, be polite and ask questions.

Tell your story: The presentation of your portfolio needs to be clear and engaging, whilst explaining the challenges, the process and outcome. Rehearse this at home in advance, as this’ll help your story flow on the day and help you gain confidence in your story. You need to believe in your own work – no one else will if you don’t. It may sound obvious but make sure that everyone can see your work during the presentation – this is your time to impress. Above all, be yourself!

Sh*t happens: There will be some obstacles along the way. Clients or employers will reject your design or application. Stay calm, keep trying and learn from your experiences. Remember, design is a very personal preference and you can’t please all of the people, all of the time.

Prove it: you’ll want to promote your soft-skills within your application or interview. It’s all well and good mentioning that you’re a troubleshooter, or team-player, but this’ll mean nothing without good and relevant examples.

Congratulations…you’re hired!

We’ll be sharing more super helpful tips and resources to help fellow creatives and businesses promote themselves. Simply subscribe here.

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threemoonsareshining · 6 years

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hey i can’t sleep it’s 1am and i’m too out of it to pick i can’t properly express how much i love reading your answers so just answer any / all of those fruit asks i know i said that last time but time is a lie and you’re a cool person yeet

Hi! Oh my god it’s me the one who can’t properly express how much I like getting your asks, and how weird it feels when someone tells you that they like your answers (I still don’t get how you find my ramblings interesting!), but I actually find writing them quite liberating, and it helps me practice my writing skills in English even though they’re not very good! Ok, so you ask for it, here are some long-ass answers

peach: do you have any piercings or tattoos? No! I just had my ears pierced when I was a baby and I wear normal earrings. I don’t really want any kind of piercings because I find them soo unnecessary (for me personally), I don’t see the use in involuntarily mutilating my body you know (I hate needles). I don’t have tattoos either, and I’d like to get one someday, just something tiny and pretty, but then again we encounter the problem of needles…….

raspberry: favorite flower? I honestly love all kinds of flowers but I really like… orchids for example, and when I was little I used to be obsessed with wildflowers (I made bouquets all the time) and now every once in a while I go out to my garden and pick flowers so i can press them in a book and then stick them to an empty notebook (so cliche I know) but I just think they look so so nice.

passion fruit: how would you describe your style? Mmmm I don’t really know if I have a style, I’m really basic tbh. I wear simple clothing but somehow I always manage to differentiate myself from the rest, sometimes without even trying. Like, when I go shopping I get really annoyed because 90% of the shops in every mall are owned by the same company (Inditex) and want it or not, they always end up selling the same stuff, because it’s what everybody is wearing and they sell more you know, but I hate wearing That Exact Garment That Everyone Is Wearing This Season, unless I really really like it. But most of the time I just stick to a simple style, with plain colors, although now I’m trying to broaden my horizons and feel a little bit more comfortable showing a little more skin, which I don’t always like but I’m trying you know.

pineapple: sexual orientation? Ah, the eternal question. I’m honestly not sure. I spent a lot of time believing I was ace, I have always been “mocked” for my lack of sexual behaviours. When I was in middle school people thought it was because I was a lesbian, but I gave it a lot of thought and I arrived at the conclusion that I wasn’t, I just didn’t have attraction towards anyone, which apparently people find completely incomprehensible. But this last year I’ve experienced some situations that have made me realise I might not be 100% ace, but it’s weird because I don’t think those feelings were towards anyone in particular, so I’m pretty confused. What I have more or less clear so far is that I need a lot of trust, and when I say a lot I mean a lot, like I need to “click” with that person in a special way so I am capable of feeling the minimum sexual desire, or at least to feel comfortable enough to engage in some kind of physical contact (even kissing, like, last year I couldn’t even stand people touching my arm, so yeah all kinds of physical contact are kind of big deal to me, specially with the opposite sex, idk why), and even then it doesn’t always happen. I still have a lot to figure out, but I’m not really stressed about it, right now I’m pretty much craving some human contact (this sounds contradictory to what I wrote above, I just think I avoid physical contact because I don’t really know how to react to those situations) and hopefully I’ll get it tomorrow, even if it’s from someone that hasn't been really been really nice to me

strawberry: favorite desserts? Always ice cream, or any of the cakes that my mom bakes because they are all delicious.

cherry: can you play any musical instruments or can you sing? I used to take violin lessons and I self-taught a little of piano, but last year I didn’t have time to do anything and I ended up dropping everything art-related, which pretty much killed my soul. Giving up violin was to be expected, since it was never my passion, it felt more like an obligation because my parents pressured me a lot, and by doing that I refused to practice as much as I should so I never got to see much progress and I got stuck, while the rest of my mates kept getting better and better, which discouraged me even more. With piano, I enjoy a lot playing the little I know, and I’ve composed some themes (without any actual academic knowledge of music of course) but I think they sounded pretty good given that I came up with them with 14 years old or so. Right now I have some themes in mind (it’s amazing because I came up with them like 4 years ago and I still haven’t forgotten them, which is dangerous because I haven’t written or recorded them…). Regarding singing, I like to do it (as I type this I’m performing Africa by Toto with my heart and soul and I bet my neighbour wants to kill me right now) but I’m too shy to sing in front of people, even though I’ve been told I’m good at it (my voice isn’t strong at all btw). I’ve just performed alone in public once and I still don’t know how I managed to do it without having a nervous breakdown. Anyways, yesterday I was home alone and I started singing while doing my hair and I was surprised by myself like “woah bitch when did you learn to do that with your voice” and it was a nice feeling.

banana: favorite horror movies? Mmmmm I’m not a fan of horror movies, I’ve only started to watch some this year. For example, the only horror movie I’ve seen in an actual cinema was A quiet place, and it wasn’t even that scary, but I really liked it. I’ve also seen The Others and The Shining, which were also pretty scary for me hahah

blackberry: is your life an action film, a comedy, a romantic comedy, or drama? My life is one of those pretentious indie European drama movies in which nothing happens, except it’s not aesthetically pleasing

pomegranate: when do you feel the most confident? The other day I was wearing a clean pyjama and I was freshly shaven and honestly, I had the confidence to kill a man.

guava: dark & dramatic makeup or natural makeup? I’m trying to perfect the art of achieving a natural makeup that actually looks natural, but problem: I’m bad at it and I don’t have the right products to do it.

tangelo: if you could be any mythical creature, which would you be? I’d be a dryad, an elf or something that lives in the forest, nothing like a mermaid or a creature that lives in the water because I’m afraid of it, just let be me eaten by the moss please and thank you

papaya: what song describes your aesthetic? I’ve said it like 461654 times but Plant Life by Owl City is me, like, if that song was a person, it would be me.

cranberry: favorite time of the day; morning, afternoon, dusk, or night? I love the night because it feels like time stops. If I’m alone, I don’t feel judged because there’s no one else to see me, I can just enjoy the world when everything’s quiet and if I stay awake till dawn I get to see how the world wakes up which is also really nice. I also like the night when I’m with people, I can’t describe the feeling, like, when I breathe deeply, I feel some butterflies in my stomach (sometimes it’s the anxiety and I want to end my suffering right there but other times it’s like a nice way of feeling excited), just being surrounded by people... it gives me a weird feeling (my way of expressing this is so shitty i’m sorry)

nectarine: would you consider yourself an emotional person? I’ve always been known for being stone cold and emotionless, but actually I am Very Sensitive, everything affects me, even if I’m not the target of it (I would get really upset at school when my classmates were mean to teachers because I felt so so so so bad for them and my mom told me like “but the haven0t done anything to you!” and I’m like I know but my soul is in pain what can I do). Despite this, I never cried once at school, I just let it all out when I got home (I would cry a lot outside), and that’s why everyone thought I had no feelings, when actually I had a lot of them, too many, I just got really really good at hiding them. This is now a problem since I find myself incapable of expressing my feelings to other people. I’m good at rationalising them to myself, I can distance myself from my own perspective and think “You’re feeling this because of that”, but there’s a difference between being able to acknowledge your feelings objectively and actually having the capability to control them, or change them (that’s why they’re feelings, they’re the opposite of “objective” and they can’t just be turned off whenever you want). This is the reason why it’s so exhausting to be concealing them all the time like I do or not even that, just trying to canalise negative feelings instead of avoiding them can be really hard. So yeah, to sum up, I’m very emotional, but I’d like to believe I’m very self-aware so I can find some kind of balance.

orange: do you have long eyelashes? I actually do, but only because I apply ricin oil every night before bed. I did it just to give it a try but my lashes are now not only longer, but also denser (I have lots of new hairs popping out, it’s very nice to see). I do it because I hate wearing mascara, and I want them to look fuller without having to apply anything.

apricot: what do you do when you’re sad? When I’m very very sad I just get this sinking feeling in my chest, which I can’t express with words how much I hate it, it reminds me of all the times I’ve gotten that feeling in my life and makes me feel completely miserable. When I feel like that, there’s literally nothing else I can do but lie feeling just kind of paralyzed. I often try to watch a tv show, and even though I can’t concentrate on it and I’ll probably end up having to rewatch that episode, it distracts me a little. I also play music, but it sometimes makes it even worse. Lately, when I feel really down, or anxious (specifically anxiety over things I know are stupid and no big deal, but things that my brain decides to worry about anyway), I end up cleaning something very thoroughly, like my bedroom or bathroom while listening to some playlist with mainstream songs that I know the lyrics to but that I’m not emotionally attached to so I can keep my mind busy until lunchtime or until I have to go out.

star fruit: favorite sea creature? I used to be obsessed, and when I said obsessed I mean obsessed with whales, specifically beluga whales. I have a stuffed beluga toy, a beluga notebook and I still have the picture of a beluga hung on my wall (it’s not big I swear it’s not that bad now). I also made my mom tell my tales about belugas for like 6 or 7 years every single night (I can’t remember when exactly she stopped doing it but I can tell you I was old enough to feel really, really ashamed of it if anyone found out about it), now I feel sorry for her because it must had been a really big effort for her… I was obsessed with dolphins as well, I remember crying while watching dolphin documentaries on tv because I wanted one so bad and my parents tried to explain me that that was just… not possible. Oh I also have those figurines that glow in the dark with whale shapes (you know those stars that are on the ceiling of kids’ rooms? well just like that but with whales, I still have them)

dragonfruit: do you drink alcohol? I do, and I know it’s really unhealthy but I mean… besides that I’m a pretty healthy girl, I don’t smoke, I don’t eat processed foods and I work out every once in a while… you gotta live a little. And it’s also nothing like drinking every day or anything, it’s just that when I go out with friends I drink, heavily, but I still know when to stop (I’ve only gone overboard like… twice, and it was nothing serious, like, you end up getting all your dinner out and with a terrible hangover the next day). It’s funny because when I’m drunk and my head is spinning, I can still see myself trying to rationalise everything and i have some principles as a drunk girl: 1. Watch your step as gracefully as you can 2. Be nice and try to help everyone, stranger or not 3. Pick up the things you drop on the ground because the environment is still in danger 4. If someone needs to go to pee, especially if it’s one of your girlfriends, don’t let them go alone. It’s actually a little sad because one of the main reasons why I drink at parties it’s because I get really anxious in social situations, and it helps me feel a little less self-conscious, but lately it doesn’t do the trick, and I just stare into space and my mind goes blank every time someone talks to me, and them feeling terrible about my lack of social skills… I should fix that

This was really nice to write, it kept me busy for a while, just what I needed. I don’t know if you go through all of it but hey at least it helped me!

Have a nice nice day!!! 🍃🍃🍃🍂🍂🍂

#ask #mutuals #long post #suspended-in-gaffa #niceeeeeeeeeeeeee #have a nice day #or night #idk #aa

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zyalahmiscfandom · 7 years

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2017 vs 2010! Found some of my old sketchbooks from secondary school today, with a hella-heepa tone of Original Characters I designed, that were completely original and not apart of a established fandom or canon. So I decided to re draw some of them and post them here. So first up is Ami and Leo, from the Handymen Society. The idea around these two characters was that, they both signed up to this agency looking for “handymen” for hire, assuming it would be quick cash in their pockets, and on successful joining the group the two were imitatively paired up to work together. My idea was how would two people with nothing in common handle having to work with their complete opposite every single day of the week. So a little background on Ami and Leo:- Ami is 19 years old and currently trying to make ends meet due to her scholarship to Collage being drastically cut. She has never once been inclined to play the cutesy girly girl role that society has constantly shoved down her throat, often she plays up her dark gothic lifestyle, when in actuality she isn’t as hardcore and miserable as she wants you to think. She is studying for a BA (Hons) in Music and hopes to become a composer some day. Ami joined the handymen society in order to help pay her bills, and simply thought it would be easy jobs like picking up peoples laundry or walking their dogs, she definitely didn’t expect to get lumped with a partner though. Which leads to....

Leo is 23 years old and third in line to a Publishing firm/network, and the greatest disappointment in his family (according to his mother). A serial slacker Leo had all the opportunities laid out for him. The best schools, the best tutors, an influential family, his predicted grades put him at the top of the class, or should have. Unfortunately for Leo (and his parents expectations) if a task doesn’t interest him, he won’t put the effort in, which is why despite being generally quite intelligent he was a C average student to the very end of his academic career. Leo believes the meaning of life is to be happy in the end, so he doesn’t waste his time with negativity or anything that will bring him down. He want’s his life to be as colourful as his soul, and if that means walking around in public in cat ears then so be it. He joined the HS for a laugh, he thought it could be cool to help people out, and if it meant having a new adventure everyday he was down. Unfortunately he didn’t expect to be partnered up with the living embodiment of a grey cloud. Design wise, I thought some colour would help the characters pop and stand apart from each other, instead of having the same blue overalls and white top. I also wanted Ami to seem like maybe she’s trying to hard to seem “edgy” so my brain went “Rips! Rips everywhere!” as for Leo, a part of me wanted to get rid of the ears, but as I read more of my notes from my first drawing I was like eh fuck it, lets just give him clashing colours and patterns, he’s the type of guy who wears what he wants, when he wants.

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chirpingisflirting · 7 years

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With Nursey week coming up (courtesy of the wonderful @baba-nurse, check out @nurseyweek for specifics!), I thought it might be interesting to share some of my own personal experiences with growing up in Manhattan and being part of the New York private school world, and speculate how Nursey might have been shaped by such experiences. Hopefully some of you wonderful authors might be able to use some of this for your fics/headcanons.

For starters, I just want to say: I am not at all like Nursey. I am a middle class, white, Jewish girl, and I will never be able to speak for anyone other than what demographics I fall into. If anything I say in here is offensive, or assumes too much, let me know and I will change it as soon as possible. And also keep in mind that I do not mean to say that these experiences are at all universal among the private school world. My mom says that the grade below mine had some of the nicest kids in it; for some reason, the kids I was surrounded by just weren’t (and also, I had some really good friends too, some of the girls were friendly, and for the most part all of the guys were perfectly happy to leave me alone). Yes, some private schools are great. My experience was mine alone.

(read 1.5k of personal angst and Nursey headcannons under the cut. cw for minor bullying, I guess??? maybe not)

So. I was a part of the NYC private school world from pre-K through elementary school, a total of 7 years. My family was solidly middle class, and a relative paid for much of my schooling. I was surrounded by the children of millionaires. I think my grade had around 40 kids in it, and we all moved up together each year. In the entire grade, there were maybe 5 students of color, and probably around 5 students who were there on scholarships. My 7 years in the private school system were miserable. My mom said I would come home almost every day ready to go in my room and cry. I was a terrible child at home, rude to my mother and downright horrible to my brother. It’s taken years for my brother and I to get our relationship back on track.

The private school world, or at least the version I experienced, is not something I would ever want to put my child through. My parents did it because they thought: “Oh, more funding, smaller classes, more individual attention. Great!” And looking at the numbers, it is better than most NYC public schools, which are severely underfunded and overcrowded. But here’s what you don’t see: student interactions. God, were some of those kids awful. It’s all about who has money: if your parents have a boat and a brownstone, you’re in. If not, you’ve got a target on your forehead and your back. And it’s never, ever physical. It’s all psychological. This is why I can’t ever fully get behind fics where Nursey gets beat up at Andover, because I can’t see it ever happening in the private school world I know (but I’m not saying I know everything about this world either. I didn’t go to a boarding school, and I’m just one person). The mental attacks though...wow, do they get to you. I became the best at being a passive aggressive bitch, nipping attacks in the bud, defending my friends, doing anything I could to turn a fight around. And I was good at it, too, but kids shouldn’t be coming to school preparing to defend themselves against any sort of attack at 8 years old.

One thing I wouldn’t do was initiate. Sure, I’d continue a fight if I was really feeling it, but I wouldn’t begin anything. I turned to academics to make myself known, or feared, or whatever you want to call it. Science, math, literature, history, language. All the teachers knew me, I spent hours on homework, was furious if I got a less-than-amazing grade on a test. I loved woodshop, was the best student in the advanced math group, and once spent almost an entire science period proving that you could use the metal end of a no. 2 pencil as an electricity conductor in a circuit, to piss off the girls who said I was lying when I had done it the first time. My passion was creative writing, where I could make any world I wanted, have all the friends and the money I wished.

There are two memories from elementary school that I always refer back to when anyone asks what the bad parts were. The first was during a free period in the gym after lunch, probably during 2nd grade. A girl I had been friends with in kindergarten and first grade had joined a friend group, and I stuck with my own friends. This girl came up to me, with her friend group looking on, and told me that since she knew me, I could join her friend group, but my other friends couldn’t join. Now, this could be read innocently, but let me assure you, it wasn’t. And it wasn’t her fault, because one of the girls in her group was the one who gave me the most shit for everything that I was. I walked away from her and never once regretted it.

The second memory is the only time anything ever became physical. During the end-of-year ceremony, during 5th grade (my last year in the private school system), my class got to sit on the balcony where all the cool older kids got to sit (the school was K-8). I was on the floor in the first row, and a second row of kids were on chairs. The girl behind me was someone I had been friendly with, but she too was Captured by the Dark Side, and had taken it upon herself to make my last days at school absolutely miserable. During this ceremony, she sat behind me, and spent the entire time kicking me in the back, over and over in the same spot. I refused to move; I wouldn’t give her that satisfaction.

My family pulled me out of the private school system and I went to a public middle school, where I had an absolutely amazing time. Everyone was friendly, everyone knew me and I knew everyone. I could be smart and still have friends, I could be snarky and have people laugh with me, I could be artsy and be applauded. I was really, really happy. My mother said one of her biggest regrets was not pulling me out of my elementary school after the first year.

I 100% agree with the fandom that Nursey’s chill is 10000% fake. That boy has too many feelings for him to have any chill about anything (especially Dex but ya know…). I also agree with the post (WHICH I CAN’T FIND SOMEONE HELP ME) that Nursey never gets into physical fights, because he is fully aware of how the entitled rich white people he is surrounded by would see it if he were to raise his fists, and also because he’s learned that psychological attacks hurt so much more. He’s taken to proving that he’s better through academics, through avoiding confrontation, through finding spaces where he can authentically be himself without worrying about someone cruelly picking him apart...such as with a pen and paper, such as on the ice, such as in the haze of a good high. His “chill” is a defense against incoming attacks, but also a capsule that keeps his own emotions in.

I want to add to this that often the fandom only thinks of Nursey’s time at Andover as being instrumental in who he has become, which is probably because that’s all we know of him. But most kids who wind up in boarding schools have been in the private school system since kindergarten, and I guess the point of this post is to stress that whatever goes down in high school is a more carefully constructed version of what has been happening in the years before. Young children can be incredibly and unbelievably mean and cruel to each other. As I said, it’s taken years for me to repair my relationship with my brother, and I am so thankful that I left the private school system because I would be a very different person than I am today, and not in a good way. But Nursey didn’t have that opportunity. He was alone, both because of his race and because he didn’t live at home during high school.

I also want to address the side of the fandom that believes that Nursey feels abandoned by his parents (I also hc him as having two moms btw). One the one hand, yes. I know a few kids from boarding schools who feel like their parents pushed them into schools as a way to get them off their hands, which is a terrible thing to feel. But if Nursey’s experience was anything like mine, then his parents were probably aware of what was going on, and how their son was feeling, regardless of how much they distanced themselves from him or not (I personally believe not; they just have. so. much. to do as queer women of color living and kicking ass in a white male dominated business world. They want the best for their son, and they thought this was the way to do it). Nursey probably felt like his parents were ignoring him, that they didn’t care, that they refused to acknowledge him and make things better. And trust me, this hurts more than any verbal attacks from other students.

What I would absolutely love to see is Nursey repairing his relationship with his parents, see him forgiving them, figuring out why they kept him in that world for so long even though they knew it was hurting him. I want to see him finally grow closer to his sibling as he experiences the college world, as he finds out what true friendship means, what it is like for someone to always have your back. Give me Nursey who is finally able to be happy in an educational institution, and who can finally refer to his peers as his friends.

#derek nurse #nursey #omgcheckplease #omgcp #projecting on a character #oops

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mackthai · 7 years

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Yeonmi Park

CULTURE & LIFESTYLE | 01.04.16 – For 2 Magazine

My teacup clinked into place as I made small talk with the few other reporters in the tiny conference room. We smile and nod at one another’s stories, but in reality we are all here for one story—the same story—hers.

She enters the room last, looking lovely in a polka dot dress. She is so small that she seems frail. Upon a passing glance on the street she would appear as a typically petite Asian girl, and yet her thin frame contains more courage that I have encountered in my lifetime.

In some ways, this girl isn’t all that different from me.

Yeonmi Park was born October 4, 1993. Her favorite color is spring green. When she was a kid, she loved to make paper dolls and watch her mother’s homemade pinwheels spin on the bridge over the railroad tracks. She spent her time tending a plant garden with her father and sneaking soft, sweet noodles from her mother’s cooking. At eight years old, the movie Titanic changed her life—it showed her what love could truly be.

But unlike the bright lights of my New York City, Yeonmi was born and raised in North Korea, a country she calls “the darkest place on Earth”, where the light of the rest of the world is forbidden: a country that brainwashes its people, strips them of their individuality, and insists they “work harder” even as they are starving. It is a place where children learn math through word problems about dead Americans and where public executions are used to teach lessons. People risk going to jail by watching South Korean soap operas or Western movies. Growing up in North Korea, it isn’t abnormal to stumble upon dead bodies in the village. People are dying in the streets, but after a while, the citizens just don’t care anymore. Looking back, Yeonmi says “that is what hell is like.”

But at the time, she could not see the view from the outside – she had no idea she was living in hell.

In 2007, Yeonimi escaped North Korea with her mother, but she did not escape for freedom: she risked her life simply because she was hungry. “I escaped for a bowl of rice. That’s all I wanted. That’s all North Korea wanted.” Yeonmi had no idea what her world looked like from the outside: “I didn’t know what freedom was,” she confesses. Yeonmi’s childhood dream was simply to buy as much bread as possible and to eat all of it. This is what she left for.

Under cover of darkness, thirteen year-old Yeonmi followed strangers (guides) along mountain footpaths and across icy rivers to reach the lights on the other side: China. But freedom is rarely achieved easily. Here, Yeonmi and her mother had no rights: North Koreans who flee to China are not considered refugees or asylum seekers but “economic migrants,” frequently young women who are seeking food, shelter, and safety, which they could have, on one major condition.

Given the choice between deportation and famine in North Korea and survival as a relatively well-fed slave in China, Yeonmi’s decision was made – “I want to eat something,” and she agreed to be sold to the highest bidder for $260. With a simple exchange of paper and at a cost less than an iPhone, Yeonmi and her mother were sold to different owners and separated. Yeonmi had finally accomplished her dream of food, the one thing she longed for nonstop, for as long as she could remember–and yet, she was still not happy: she now dreamed of having an ID card and being a real citizen of a country so that she could know she was protected.

While only a child, and now slave to a strange man in Jinzhou, Yeonmi was a survivor: she refused to give in as this man’s sex slave until he promised he would help her find her mother, father, and sister. They agreed and he held up his side of the bargain. She found her mother after only a few months, who returned to Jinzhou to be with Yeonmi and the man she was living with. Her father, however, still had to be brought over from North Korea. A broker tracked him down and helped with his escape, but the happiness was short lived–Yeonmi’s father had cancer that had spread to all of his organs. On a cold winter night in the Chinese countryside, Yeonmi placed a photo of her father with him in a grave that faced a river so that he could watch it while he waited to meet her again in the future. It was the loneliest moment of her life.

**** In 2009, with help of human rights activists and Christian missionaries, Yeonmi and her mother were able to flee to South Korea. Here, she would learn what it meant to be safe and to aspire to new dreams. She was given citizenship, an ID card, and the opportunity to develop a personal identity, but, while she learned the rules of urban South Korean society and spent her extra money on books to fill her mind with stories she had no access to growing up in North Korea, the transition wasn’t all wonderful and easy.

Although she had learned to properly introduce herself Yeonmi found class introductions troubling and she dreaded the question, “What do you think?” She had never been asked her favorite color or her hobbies or what she wanted to be when she grew up. In North Korea, there was no “I”, only “we”, and she had never required her own opinion. All of a sudden, she was being asked questions that she couldn’t fire off memorized answers to. They were about her. She was expected to be an individual, and she had never been taught to do that.

To make matters more complicated, while only 15 years old, Yeonmi had long forsaken childhood innocence. She had made consequential, adult decisions in North Korea and China, and now struggled to assimilate into a teenager’s world that she couldn’t understand, with children she didn’t know how to relate to. And, while Yeonmi attained her dream of an ID card, she still hadn’t attained happiness. Instead of elation at freedom in South Korea, Yeonmi experienced the effects of depression and PTSD – more concepts she never knew existed. “I found out how painful freedom could be.”

Yeonmi was able to attend school, where she learned the national anthem, but she was now academically behind other kids her age. But she was determined to succeed. She studied hard to get her GED and when she stood before a panel of professors at Dongguk University she told them, “My name is Yeonmi Park. I was born in Hyesan, North Korea. I came here a short time ago, with almost no education, and I have achieved a great deal in two years. I can guarantee you that, if you put your trust in me, I won’t let you down.” All she needed was for someone to believe in her – and they did. She was accepted to university, and Yeonmi entered a new world, a world full of knowledge and diversity, where she found herself dreaming even greater dreams.

Today, Yeonmi surrenders everything–all her privacy–to share her story with the world. She sits before me with a bright smile and a soft, clear voice, speaking excellent English for someone who’s only been practicing a few years. Despite spending all her time in China as a slave, Yeonmi says that she fell in love with the culture and wishes to live there one day. At every new city she visits, her first stop is Chinatown.

Yeonmi knows that the dark places she has been have helped create the person she is today, allowing her to share her message with the world. Still only 22, she already feels 70. She regrets nothing. The two things Yeonmi is most grateful for is that she was born in North Korea and that she escaped North Korea.

A chord is struck and suddenly she is speaking through tears. I sit next to her at the conference table, listening to this strong, brave, young woman share her story, and the tears do not make her seem weak. They make her seem real. They make her strength even greater because she’s not some kind of superhero who stuck it out through horrific events: she’s a girl, just like I am, with the same needs for food and shelter and the same appreciation for the movie Titanic.

And, after everything she’s been though, she stands up as a voice for the people left behind. She’s human. She’s scared. She’s real. She’s hurting. Her courage exists in the fact that she doesn’t let those things hold her back. She doesn’t cower and allow the darkness to envelop her life. She throws everything she has on the table for the world to see in hopes that she can help bring light to the darkest place on Earth.

“My sister went through that. My mother went through that. It’s not like something that I see in the news. I know what it means to be a slave so I cannot just talk about it lightly. Now I’m free, but I had to deal with guiltiness that I feel. I know so many people who just took an airplane to come to Thailand, but my sister last year she walked through borders and she crossed the river and came to this border from China, evading the police, and it took almost a year for her journey, a year journey to come here… I came on the airplane and I’m like oh my God, I just fly here – one day flight – how many people just never made it to Thailand? Sometimes I feel very guilty because I’m nothing special. I’m just the one lucky one who made it. So many people like me, they are same people and same emotions, and they just never made it. Every day I have to reconcile that I deserve this freedom. I deserve this voice. I deserve these rights. That’s the process I have to go through after survival.”

When I ask her what it means to be a human, she tells me the story of her dreams. She tells me about the basket of bread and the ID card, and then about what she discovered: “I thought that if I satisfy my personal needs, I would be happy, but that was not happiness. I was still miserable. To me, my meaning, my purpose in my life, is to live something bigger than for myself. If I have opportunity to do something for others, I think that is a glorious life. Even if that means I risk my life… I still find it a very glorious life and I’m still lucky for that.”

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cageofsteel · 7 years

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I remember coming here to search for a peace of mind, better well-being, a new beginning.

Those stories and memories of my past, when I was the dawn of my early teenage years, to the roaring twenties, and now the sobering thirties. It turned out to be quite different from what I expected, not in a sense of whether it was better or worse in terms of the road I was trekking on and the choices of my decisions - of course that mattered - but it was far too much to digest, far too many things have happened. With that, changes too; the events, people and situations that impacted my life and my spirit so much, some devastatingly, mostly irreversibly…

As someone at this point in my life, being in this scheme and way of life, in this city, a product of society where earning a living, status, wealth, material possessions are a reflection of your worth as a person to your family and friends, comparisons and judgments are hard to escape from, I don’t think I’ve succeeded in the last 10 years of my life. Quite the opposite, I think I’ve derailed from what the life was about now and degenerated and like mist in the air, they are biting into the curves and hollows of a cave, forming clear, visible formations of icicles of darkness and dejection.

I succeeded in things that were thought that were important in life. With people, with leadership, with ethics, with attitude and an indomitable mind that was for the greater good of others. I was a student leader, a diligent individual who stood for values. I was a member of a uniformed organization that was the berth of taking flight on my wildest dreams and the stuff that flowed in my veins. Teachers and seniors who undertook me in their wings that spoke of promising things, unbelievable things, things that would bring tears to me that I would ironically spit at today. I could remember everything- even when I was performing academically well till when I wasn’t. When I was doubted till when I wasn’t. I always had a way in my being that defied that odds. I believed I was the epitome of that and it happened.

That was victory in life for me. That was my way of winning. In their hearts and minds.

But the game had long changed for everyone, I realised. The real world was as such. The people that didn’t matter rose to shine, when I slowly wilted. I lost my shine and my way, I saw the real me and my true worth because it is today that counted.

People today are having careers, making lots of money, sprouting opinions that matter to anyone else that listened. The mattered. They made a difference. They are the very changers of the game today. They had lots of money and they were living the correct, approved life.

I had it when I started out in my first career with a good friend, I did what I was told. I did everything I was told. I was excellent with systems and instructions. As long as somebody showed me how, I could emulate it. I emulated lots of things that gave me my successes. I made some money of course, with the sacrifice of hard work and time, I believed more and more was coming in my way, the sacred route from plucking those fruits to finally having the seeds to plant them myself one day, finally. Those were my days as a financial adviser in the top agency locally.

With that, I learnt to twist my values and personality. I got better with people, I learnt to manipulate and influence people. I got ahead of what I knew I was capable of. The late nights, the parties, the drinking, the spending, the pursuit of vanity and approval. It felt really good inside out but that was soon beyond what I could handle.

Perhaps I just wasn’t meant to be this. It drew a great separation from who I really was. I could not function properly. My failures were talking a toll on me but I numbed it with alcohol, high, money, and the opposite sex for a few years…

I finally crumbled and fell when I had to change my career as I wasn’t making the breakthrough since after 5 years, with a switch of leaders and companies. I left my job, I needed money to pay the bills to put food on the plate.

There were days I was hungry and miserable. I couldn’t even take the public train and afford a meal. I lived on a packet of chocolate coated dates at one point, it was my all time low. There was once, my manager exclaimed in shock that I lost so much weight, and I had to deny, although that was part truth, that I was exercising too much, with yoga as a miracle weigh loss method.

The low was comparable to when I was rejected from the chance to achieve my wildest dreams as a naval diver when I was 16. The truth was, I wanted to inspire others. I wanted to become a special forces operator. Why? What’s the point? Because I thought and believed, that was the best way to prove that you’re the best in every single way as a human being (how naive). I was completely numb and couldn’t speak for days. I was told to try again in my next life when all I did in this life was to achieve this one and only thing.

I went ahead, things got slightly better- another illusion that was telling me the light was just around the corner. But false hope after another, there was no breakthrough. What is breakthrough? Where is it?

After these 5 years, I learnt one thing. That I could perform street magic but it just wasn’t enough to take me to serious David Copperfield deal stuff. I learnt to sell at roadshows so well that I dared take on anyone. But it just wasn’t enough to make real money and make me successful. I was totally a nobody when it came to sales and interpersonal skills when I started. I was a military man where “stern” and “serious” were the only two traits I would receive from people.

I lost my pride more and more each time the illusion fell apart. The cycle of doubt and belief was tearing me apart as a person, as a human being.

I had to leave. Maybe. I had to. Soon, I found myself in another place where my skills were valued, but my person and moral values weren’t. I was in the bank.

Long story short. I left after 2 years, that left a scuffle that I tried to remove with all my will and heart.

I found yoga during the time of transition from my insurance job and the bank. It was my only source of help and hope. It healed me as a person when I had no one, no source to rely on. I became sober in that three to four months. I quit the parties and drinking and smoking and the company that wasn’t really helping me but somehow it wasn’t enough, it seemed.

I seriously wanted to give the corporate ladder another shot, with newfound realizations and maturity and a sincere heart of wanting to sacrifice to do well.

It was short lived. I sacrificed my mind, my body, my spirit. I lost myself. I learnt that I knew too little to survive in that environment of banking. It tore me once again and threw me to the sidelines.

I tried to be steadfast in my yoga practice. It gave me a lot of strength that I had lost. But the signs were there already. I was in distress, I was in anxiety, I was depressed, and I wasn’t performing as I should. I was mediocre. I was a nobody compared to when I was in my insurance days, in my school days, in my military days. I had changed? Maybe.

Why was this happening? What should I do to improve and change the outcome? I sincerely asked and introspected myself honestly. But I just wasn’t enough.

I moved on, I couldn’t handle my relationships with people as well. My friends. I lost them, I had issues with my partner. My family was breaking apart, although the signs were there already. My parents were undergoing a divorce. I stood up and tried to manage something that I knew little about. I was never close to either of my parents at all. It strained me. I had trust problems, I had temper problems. I lost my yoga practice. I’ve stopped practicing for longer and longer periods of time until today. Its been at least 3 weeks. I’ve been drinking whenever I can in the last 2 weeks, to just escape the sensations of my physical self, to hopefully get beyond my usual mental state just hoping that there could be a new break-though in thought or instinct or at least, give me another night to numb and sedate me from everything that was happening, to turn me away from the reality that breaking me apart, proving that I was more and more unsuitable for this life, at least, for the moment.

I had many stress management issues. More strands and strands of white hair. From days where I cared about my physical appearance and personality till when I couldn’t care less to even look into the mirror in the mornings anymore. I couldn’t manage my anxiety. I feel overwhelmed by things that go wrong at work. I feel that I am not proving my worth. I feel useless and a degenerate. I feel that I am living life because it needed me to live. It was the total complete opposite of everything, from my teenage days, to my army days, to my insurance days. I feel so inferior to everyone and I wont bother talking to anyone and I have no outlook on life as I did. I feel I can’t get out of this life because it’s the way I am. I feel that I am living to work day by day and I am thinking when will I die at the back of my mind. I tried to find worth in living when there was each time, it was taken away from me. I don’t know how else can I change my life. I don’t know know who I am, more and more each day…

Where is the new beginning I thought I had found?

Effort and sincerity isn’t enough anymore, it had proved. It’s just who you are that counts. Believing isn’t enough anymore, it’s just lies and lies you’re trying to build.

I’m sorry. I have no way to save you, J.

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