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the-wip-project · 3 months

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SloMo WriNo: Failure Proofing Your Goals

A Novel in one year.

So, what are the numbers for that?

If you’re so inclined, you’ve probably already done the math, and come up with some numbers for yourself.

Numbers like projected length of novel (I’m going to use 80k for this, but don’t get married to that, once you get into it the work with find it’s own length) and how many words a day you would need to write to hit that goal. (220)

That’s all very nice, but the problem with word count goals, is that you can create a situation where your writing becomes a pass/fail situation.

A situation where if you perceive yourself as failing (did I meet my word count goal this week? No? I AM A FAILURE!), and the pressure rises, it starts to feel safer to simply quit, rather than face repeated failures.

I’m against that sort of thing. (The quitting and also the negative self talk.)

So how does one measure progress without creating that sort of situation? How can you win the psychology game of getting words on the page?

Of course everyone is different. But here’s two methods (tricks? hacks?) that work for me at various times.

Low Goal, High Results. (The Min-Max zone)

The idea with this is to set a daily, or per session word count goal that feels too easy.

By now I hope you’ve figured out a good time and place to write. So go there, at that time, and do a timed 15 minute sprint. However many words you got, halve it. Repeat this exercise a few times to make sure you’ve got a good average.

Unless you’re a power writer, you will most likely end up with a number that is below that 220 we mathed out earlier, DON’T PANIC. In fact, for this example lets say that you managed to write an average of 200 words in your 15 minute sessions. Which means that your daily goal is now 100 words.

Of course with that number, even if you write every single day for a year that will only give you 36 500 words. Not a novel. Barely a novella!

The point here is not to write only 100 words a day. It’s making the daily task of writing feel easy and approachable. Not scary. If you know you only need to write 100 words, and you know you can get that done easily in less than 15 minutes, then why not do it? And once you’re writing, writing a little more generally happens easily enough. If getting started is the hard part, this should really help.

It’s a common psychological trick. But it’s common for a reason. It works!

Once you’ve set your (very easy) minimum goal, I also encourage you to set a maximum daily goal too. Especially if you’re the type of person who tends to go on 10k writing binges and then not write again for two months. Set your maximum at what you can comfortably write in 1.5-2 hours. So let’s say that’s 1000 words. Meaning your goal is to write 100-1000 words every time you sit down to write, and consider everything, from barely getting 102 to maxing out at 1002 an awesome, winning, writing day.

What does that look like? On a bad day, a day you don’t fee like writing at all, it means you tell yourself that all you need to do is write for ten minutes. Just get down 100 words (or whatever your minimum goal is.) And then if you haven’t found your mojo, you stop. No guilt or regret. You’ve met your goal, even though you’re having a bad day. You’re doing awesome!

On a power day, when you feel almost possessed by the muses, it means that when your timer beeps, or you see that number on the bottom of the screen hit 1000 (or whatever your number is), you make yourself stop. Yes. Stop mid flow. (It’s painful, I know! But please try!) Why stop? Because you’re learning how to have a healthy long term writing habit.

Write yourself some notes, and come at it fresh tomorrow. The goal is teach yourself that your creativity isn’t actually a unreliable muse. You are not subject to it’s whim. With time and practice your creativity will be there whenever you reach for it.

This is the method that I use most of the time, and I strongly recommend you give it a decent try (6 weeks at least.)

However perhaps you’re really just convinced that particular kind of psychological trickery just won’t work for you, or perhaps you’ve tried it in the past without success. Maybe it creates the opposite effect for you, and you find daily writing skippable because the minimum goal feels so low that you think you can make it up later (you won’t, but ahem, brains are weird.) So here is an alternative method that is also quite effective.

2. Higher Goals to Plan For Misses

Instead of setting your goal ridiculously low, you can try setting it high enough that you can miss writing days while still staying on track.

This will only work if you’ve been able to carve out a larger chunk of time for daily writing, thirty minutes to an hour.

So, lets run the example numbers. Using the 80k novel template, we already know that it would take 220 words a day if you write every single day, and never delete anything.

Writing every day is almost impossible, so you’re setting yourself up to fail if you set 220 as your goal.

So instead you plan for writing 6 days a week. Perhaps you intend to take Mondays off. They suck and you know you usually don’t feel like writing then anyway. Awesome. Let’s make that our schedule. Writing 312 days a year means a daily target of 257 words.

But still, that leaves no margin for error. No time for bad days, illness, that one scene you have to cut because it wasn’t working, etc.

So we double it. Your goal, with a plan of writing 6 days a week, is 500 words a day. And also (and this is the important bit) 2000 words a week.

Wait! That’s 4 days, not 6! Yes. That’s the point. It allows room for misses. To allow you to fail without failing. For days when you can’t reach 500, for days when you don’t have time (and with a larger daily goal like this, that’s a lot more possible.) For days when you just can’t.

Of course if you can only count on writing 5 days a week, or 4, or whatever your life situation calls for, adjust your goals accordingly. Always keep your goal word count about 1/3 higher than needed, to give yourself that cushion. If the numbers gets too large to manage, then it’s time to change the long term goal.

Yes. Really. Change it. Setting a goal that you’re bound to fail at is not going to help you.

Perhaps it’s more feasible for you personally to write your novel in 18 months, or two years. As always, your health is more important than an arbitrary time line, and you’ll still be awesome if you write your novel a little slower.

But what if both of those methods still stress you out, or if focusing on the numbers like that kills your joy?

Here’s a bonus method, that I personally use when things get to be a real struggle.

3. Gold Stars

This is for the times when the thought of tracking word count is just one step too many, and becomes an obstacle for writing at all. However when you abandon tracking completely, it’s often a way to abandon writing too.

So having some sort of way to confirm that yes, you’ve written for the day still helps, whether that’s putting a gold star, or an X on a calendar (you can find printable month/page calendars online for free, or you can buy those little book calendars very cheap), creating an art or craft piece (one time I wrote an entire novel assisted by a scarf where I only got to crochet a row after I’d written for the day), or whatever other way you can think of to mark that you wrote. Having a way to look back at your week or month and confirm that yes, you’ve written most days, is often enough keep you honest (with yourself.) As long as it’s something that feels like a reward and not additional work.

So there you have it. 3 methods for setting word count goals and tracking what you’re accomplishing.

Let me know what you’re going to try, or what sort of tricks work for you! (and feel free to ask me for help figuring out how to apply this in your own life.)

—Maree

Subscribe to my substack to make sure you don't miss a post, chat with me on the WIP Project discord, and tag any posts you make about the challenge with #slomowrino if you want me to see them!

#slowmowrino #failure proof goals #word count goals #writing advice

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mrsbsmooth · 1 month

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I almost don't want to ask because I would hate for you to feel pressured or stressed, but I really need to know! How far into the future can we expect the Safe For Saga update of Unhealthy? 🥺

You know, so I can mentally prepare to binge-read these two new chapters (& however many chapters it takes the leave angst city) but know we're moving towards happier times 😅 technically Unhealthy doesn't have to leave angst city, I just need Brig & Lewie to have gotten through the Casa re-coupling so I know they're in the same villa & can talk to each other...

So yeah, I don't want you to feel pressure but do I have to wait a week, a month, a year? 👀 Also, here's a live photo of me waiting for the Safe For Saga update after having read one (1) angsty Lewie chapter:

A safe for Saga version?

It’s not gonna be this chapter I’m writing now. It might be the one after that. I haven’t decided yet. It depends how the drama plays out in these next chapters because I’ve got a lot i want the characters to say to each other.

Stay tuned 😉

#litg #love island the game #love island game

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starlightrows · 9 hours

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Hello and welcome back to Krax Watches. Tonight I am binge watching The Bad Batch Season 3, Episodes 10-14.

Episode 10 — Identity Crisis

• The little kids being imprisoned made me cry. Like immediately. I’m on my period okay? Leave me alone

• Why haven’t they killed Nala Se?

• I was hoping we would have more info on Emerie by now. Like is she really a clone? And if she is, is she a female clone of Jango or a clone of someone else?

• I know it’s already been established that Cad Bane is a known child abductor, I hate looking at it with my own two eyeballs every time. ITS LITERALLY A BABY

• I’m so glad Boba Fett murdered Cad Bane like 35 years later.

Episode 11 — Point of No Return

• The second she put down Lula and Tech’s nerd goggles, the ship was toast

• I hope someone kills Sid. Snitches get stitches and also fuck you

• Hunter really fell from like a hundred feet up and just swam his ass back to shore

• I hate that this season has made me go back on my hatred of Crosshair. I still think he’s a crusty dusty musty asshole. But god damn am I weak for sibling tropes, especially older brother tropes.

• You just know he is beating the ever loving shit out of himself for losing Omega to the Empire

• Mystery masked guy, that is definitely Tech, really just allowed Omega to be loose back there behind him while flying at the end there… I know this is still sort of a kids show and they would never actually do this… but Omega could totally bash him in the back of the head while he’s flying. Or garrot him or something. Maybe even yank off his helmet.

Episode 12 — Juggernaut

• Omega looking at Emerie… hello traitor

• Kinda forgot that Crosshair and Phee haven’t met yet

• Phee still refers to Tech as brown eyes, cute! But don’t all of them have brown eyes… ya know… because they’re clones

• …. What was Admiral Rampart arrested for again? I remember hating him… but I can’t remember anything else about him

• Phee is cool as fuck and I love her

• Rampart is racist… alienist… whatever, fuck that guy

• Wouldn’t it have been a wild connection if Rampart was in a work camp or work facility like the one Cassian was in?! Way harder to get him out, but would have been a cool connection

• Wooooooo! Jail break!

• Playing chicken with a tank!

• Lmao throwing Rampart like a sack of potatoes

• I kind of can’t figure out what it is they are trying to accomplish with Omega and the other high M count kiddos. Maybe I’m just dense

Episode 13 — Into the Breach

• It makes me intensely sad thinking about the fact that Omega has spent the majority of her little life in captivity

• They’re making the children take care of the literal baby

• Echo my boy! You’ve returned!

• I like how Omegas legs are almost too big to fit under the table, she’s groaning up 😫

• She’s so devious and crafty, I love Omega

• They stripped the paint off their armor. Why does that feel so foreboding???

• Rampart is cranky because he hasn’t gotten dick in months, damn shame

• Even with the paint stripped off their armor, they look wildly out of place

• Wrecker playing is playing Candy Crush, scrolling space Tumblr, swiping on galactic Hinge, reading fanfic on space AO3

• I want to cuddle that owl baby so bad

• I love bitchy little R2 units

• Crosshair saying, Relax, Echo’s on it, makes me emotional

• Literally can’t believe that fucking worked

Episode 14 — Flash Strike

• Howmst the fuck did they know that it was Clone Force 99 and Rampart? They didn’t get caught by anyone

• I feel like Wrecker hasn’t gotten to do anything or have any personality this season :/ he’s kinda just there

• This bitch with the bangs is going to be an ongoing problem. I hope the children kick her shins until she croaks or something

• Lamo what does Rampart sound like that?!

• Echo really needs to get a prosthetic hand at some point his little screwdriver nub is a dead give away

• Did they leave Batcher on Pabu? I didn’t realize she was missing until now

• Rampart have ZERO self preservation skills. There is almost nothing preventing the batch from killing him

• Inventory droids always have a stick up their ass

• Thanks for the hand! Oh my god 😂 I was right!!

• Please let the monster eat Rampart, PLEASE let the monster eat Rampart. PLEASEEEEEEE

• What the fuuuuuck? I forgot about the Zillo Beast

• I was such an anxious child. I would have been so worried about Omega I would have thrown up

• Omega’s poker face is iconic!

• Let’s go Emerie! You have exactly one opportunity to not fuck this up

The final episode next week is going to be chaotic as fuck. I have no idea what to expect. I feel like there are waaay too many loose ends to tie up. Which further leads me to believe that there’s going to be another spin off about Omega or about Rex or something.

#Krax Chats #The Bad Batch #TBB #tbb spoilers

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badwolf-67 · 3 months

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Was thinking about how like exhausted I truly am all the time, like to the bones and realized it’s probably because I haven’t really had any time off for like 8 years between school and then doing extra curricular and having a job and what not expect for the brief few months during the pandemic when no one released shit could still go down over Zoom but that barely counts because I was depressed out of my mind and once hallucinated John mulaneys face in a tree and now that I’m like out of high school and in university this is just how it is for the rest of my life so what I’m saying is I’m completely justified in starting to binge Glee when I have midterms next week that I haven’t started studying for and two major assignments due within a week like ie literally been an adult for almost three months and this is just how it fucking is

#shitpost #i’m so tired #school #glee #john mulaney #Trees

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debbiechanclub · 1 year

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Knights and Kings

A “Take My Hand, Wreck My Plans” fic

Pairing: Zack Sabre Jr. x OFC Word Count: 4,650 Warnings: ANGST; alcohol use; language

Nellie and Torrance are both in need of relationship advice, and they expected to find it at the bottom of wine bottles and ice cream cartons―not a deck of tarot cards.

TMHWMP Timeline | Masterlist

Read it on AO3

Tag squad: @comeasyoudar @statdaddy @knifepervert @sldghmmr @rusevday @missbrownstone @meteora-fc @bec0m @thatgirlforever5 @rocca09

Saturday, August 1, 2020 Tokyo, Japan

“Thank you for letting me crash here,” Torrance said. “I promise I won’t overstay my welcome.”

“Stop,” Nellie returned. She handed her a large glass of Sauvignon Blanc and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, pulling her feet up onto the cushion. “You can stay as long as you need. I’m sure it won’t be long, anyway.”

Torrance laughed dryly to herself as she eagerly lifted the glass to her mouth. “That makes one of us.”

She took a long drink, and Nellie frowned. When Torrance had called and told her she needed a place to stay because she and Ishimori were “taking some time apart,” Nellie had thought she meant just for the night. But when she’d shown up at her apartment just over an hour later—suitcase in tow, eyes red from crying—Nellie had realized it was a bit more serious than just a night.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. “Or do you just want to drink and binge-watch K-dramas?”

Torrance laughed again, a bit more genuine that time. “All of the above.”

Empathy surged in Nellie’s veins. “I didn’t realize you and Ishimori were having issues again.”

“Again,” because Torrance and Ishimori were one of those couples who always seemed to be either hot or cold. Nellie had seen it for herself during the two months she’d crashed in their spare bedroom after she and Zack had broken up. But she’d also seen their love in all the little things they did, in the way they chose each other every single day. From where she was sitting, this break had come out of left field.

But that wasn’t the case for Torrance. “It started not long after you moved out,” she revealed. “I think you were providing a buffer for us, and we didn’t realize it until you were gone.”

Nellie’s frown deepened. So this had been building for a month, then. She had noticed that Torrance hadn’t been her usual self the last few weeks, but she hadn’t thought too much of it—most people weren’t themselves these days. New COVID cases were surging again in Tokyo, and Stardom had just two shows planned for August after only just starting up again at the end of June after a three-month hiatus. So, Nellie had just assumed Torrance was depressed over the general state of things; she hadn’t thought to ask if anything else was going on.

And plus, Nellie had been dealing with her own personal matters lately.

She pulled herself out of her thoughts and refocused on Torrance. “So what exactly started, then?” she asked. “After I moved out.”

“Just, bickering,” Torrance breathed. “Constantly, about everything, about the stupidest, littlest shit. And I’d been hoping it was just a rough patch and that we’d get through it, but we haven’t and now… I’m doubting our entire relationship.”

A weight settled on Nellie’s chest, and she looked regretfully down into her own glass of wine. She could relate all too well.

“It’s exactly like what happened to you and Zack.”

Nellie flicked her eyes back up at her. Torrance was already shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you’re not wrong,” Nellie ruefully returned. “It is exactly like what happened to me and Zack.” She paused to take a sip of wine, her mouth suddenly dry. “You know you could have talked to me about it.”

“I know,” she quietly said. “I actually almost did call you after Taiji and I got into it last week, but then I realized it was Zack’s birthday and I didn’t want to bother you with my shit when I knew you were probably dealing with your own.”

Nellie’s mouth moved too fast for her brain. “It probably would have been better if you did call.”

There was a beat of silence as they both realized what she’d said. Nellie froze. Torrance noticed.

“Why? Did something happen?”

Nellie shifted uncomfortably.

“Shit, something did happen, didn’t it?” Torrance figured, and Nellie knew there was no avoiding it now. So, she spit it out.

“I slept with Zack.”

Torrance’s jaw unhinged. “On his birthday?”

She nodded.

Torrance stared at her a few seconds longer, mouth agape. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t call, then,” she remarked.

“No, it’s not good, Torr,” Nellie woefully returned—but Torrance was already asking her next question.

“Did it happen here or at his place?”

Nellie sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She might as well just give her all the details. “His place. I texted him happy birthday because it felt like the right thing to do; we’re still friends. But then we started talking, and he said he was getting takeout from this udon place we both love, and asked if I wanted to come over. It was only like six-thirty, so I figured it was fine and I could leave before it turned into hook-up hours, but then one thing led to another and… yeah.”

She took a gulp of wine, her heart pulsing in her neck. In truth, she knew she should have declined Zack’s invitation that night; she should have called Torrance and had her talk her down. But she was having a harder time moving on from Zack than she was willing to admit. Some days, she gave herself grace for it. Of course she was having a hard time—she’d uprooted her whole life and moved across the world with the person she loved only to have it all fall apart. Anyone would have a hard time moving on from that.

But other days—like today, the entire last week—she felt like a fool.

“Was it good, at least?” Torrance asked, cutting into her thoughts.

“Torr,” Nellie breathed, half a smile on her lips. “You’re not helping.”

Torrance pulled her mouth to the side of her face. “Well, I guess we both need tonight.” She let out a tired sigh. “Please tell me you have ice cream or chocolate or something else we can eat our feelings with.”

Nellie pushed out her bottom lip. “I don’t. But there’s a 7-Eleven a few blocks away.”

* * * *

Neither of them was concerned about impressing anyone, and a few minutes later they both left Nellie’s apartment in oversized t-shirts, bike shorts, messy buns, and masks to walk the few blocks to 7-Eleven as the last remnants of twilight died in the darkening sky. And it didn’t take long for Torrance to resume her line of questioning.

“Have you and Zack talked about it at all?”

Nellie snorted. “No. I left practically as soon as the sun came up. It was my first walk of shame since back when I was hooking up with Riley,” she lowly added.

“You snuck out?” Torrance balked.

“No, I didn’t sneak out,” Nellie clarified. “I told him I was leaving. But he was still half-asleep, so.” She left it at that and gestured to an alleyway on their right. “It’s this way.”

They cut into the alleyway, lined with tightly packed open-air bars and restaurants. Paper lanterns and electric signs hung every few feet advertising food and drink in kanji, but the atmosphere wasn’t as lively as it would have been under normal circumstances. It made Nellie recall one of her very first dates with Zack at an izakaya just like these, a smile on her face as she turned toward him on a barstool, his hand on her thigh—

“Would you like your cards read, my dears?”

Nellie and Torrance both slowed to a stop. An older woman with kind, dark eyes stood outside a stall toward the end of the alley. Nellie looked up at the sign overhead; in bright neon letters it read in English, “PSYCHIC TAROT PALMISTRY TEA LEAVES.” Her brow furrowed in confusion. This stall hadn’t been there any of the previous times she’d walked through here.

Torrance hesitated. “Oh, I don’t know—”

But the woman cut her off. “Yes, come. You especially need a love reading; I can tell from your aura.”

She beckoned them into the stall. Torrance and Nellie exchanged an uncertain glance.

“Come, come!” the woman repeated. “You want to know if you and your partner are too incompatible, yes?”

Torrance’s eyes widened. Nellie could see her overthinking it in real time.

“Okay, that’s a really general statement,” she quietly attempted to assuage her.

“There’s no need to be afraid,” the woman said. “The cards will only tell you what you need to hear.”

Torrance and Nellie tapped eyes again. “Yeah, that’s what worries me,” Torrance muttered under her breath; but she moved forward into the stall. Nellie followed. She had to admit, she was intrigued—and there was something comforting about the old woman’s presence.

There wasn’t much to her set-up; just a small folding table covered by a woven tapestry with one chair on one side and two on the other, a neatly stacked deck of tarot cards set in the middle. An electric tea kettle and paper cups sat in the corner, presumably for those who wished to have their tea leaves read. They all sat down around the table. The woman looked at Torrance first.

“All I need are your name and the name of your partner, nothing more.”

Torrance shifted; so they were jumping right into it. Her voice wavered a bit as she answered. “Um, I’m Torrance, and my boyfriend’s given name is Taiji.”

The woman hummed as she nodded and reached for the cards. She held them intentionally in her hands for a moment, her eyes closed, focused; and then she reopened them and started to shuffle. Overhand, varying her pace—sometimes quick, sometimes slow—until one of the cards popped out from the pile, making itself known. She laid it facedown on the table, and then repeated the process two more times. When she was done, she set the rest of the cards off to the side. The air in the room seemed to thicken as she did.

“This is a traditional three-card love spread,” she explained, deliberately pronouncing each word. “Many people think, ‘the more cards, the better.’ But with too many cards, the message can become muddy and lost. A three-card spread cuts right to the heart of the situation.”

She placed her finger on the card on the right. “This card represents you.” She moved to the card on the left. “This card represents your partner.” Finally, she put her finger on the card in the middle. “And this card represents your relationship together.”

“Okay,” Torrance breathed, nervous. But the woman smiled at her, and even though her mouth was hidden behind her mask they could see it in her eyes, sympathetic and kind.

“Again, the cards will not tell you anything you do not need to hear,” she repeated; and then, without warning, she flipped over the card on the right. It displayed a striking graphic image of an angel pouring water between two cups. At the bottom, it read in capital letters, TEMPERANCE.

“Ah, a major arcana card!” she noted. “This is an important message.”

Torrance’s brow furrowed with anxiety. The woman went on.

“Now, the card looks upright to you because we are sitting opposite one another. But because I am the one doing the reading, it is reversed. And Temperance reversed indicates that you must look inward first before you can move forward.”

Nellie glanced at Torrance out of the corner of her eye. She fidgeted in her seat again, the corners of her mouth turned down. But she remained quiet, interested in what else the woman had to say. And so, she continued.

“Something is imbalanced in your life, and you must think about what it is that you truly want. Not anyone else—you. It is the only way to find harmony again.”

Torrance went rigid. Clearly, the woman’s words resonated with her; perhaps too much.

“It’s not a bad card,” Nellie cut in. “It’s just saying you should take a step back and figure things out. You’re doing that now.”

The woman smiled. “Your friend is right. And if you’re doing this, you are already on the forward path.”

Torrance nodded in understanding. “Okay,” she said again.

“Let’s see Taiji’s card now…” The woman reached for the left card and flipped it over. It pictured a robed king holding a longsword in his hands: the KING OF SWORDS.

The woman considered the card for a few seconds. And then she asked, “Does Taiji have very high standards?”

“Yes,” Nellie immediately commented. Torrance rolled her eyes; but she didn’t disagree.

“Yeah, he does,” she dolefully confirmed. “For everything.”

The woman nodded. “The King of Swords is someone who is very controlled and ambitious, and sometimes that can come off as…” she fluttered her fingers, searching for the right word. “Overbearing—cold—especially in relationships, as they tend to be reserved in showing their emotions. To them, love means pushing their partner to do and be their very best, and they desire someone who will do the same for them. When the two partners are aligned in this concept, it makes for a very strong and beneficial relationship.

“But,” she pointed meaningfully back at the Temperance card. “Do not forget what Temperance has told you. If your desires and needs don’t align with Taiji’s, then it will benefit neither of you.”

Torrance gnawed on the inside of her lip. Nellie couldn’t think of a positive way to spin that message.

“Alright,” the woman said with a single nod. “Now, your relationship together…”

She flipped over the middle card. A knight sat atop a gallant horse, a cup in his outstretched hand. The KNIGHT OF CUPS.

“Hm,” the woman remarked.

“What?” Torrance asked, leaning forward, an edge of panic to her voice. “What does that mean?”

The woman thought for a beat. “Well,” she began, “the Knight of Cups could mean one of two things here, both very positive. First, it could indicate that you and Taiji will take the positive actions necessary for you to move forward together as a couple… or, alternatively, it could represent someone new coming into your life. Someone much more emotionally in-tune with your needs than the King of Swords.”

Nellie snapped her eyes at Torrance. She sat frozen, shocked; but Nellie swore it looked like someone specific had popped into her head.

The woman noticed it, too. “Ah… is there someone else already who could be the Knight of Cups?”

“What?” Torrance reacted. “No,” she shook her head, cleared her throat. “I’m just surprised. This is… eye-opening, for sure.”

The woman smiled again, her dark eyes wrinkling at the corners. “Good! That is the cards’ entire purpose! And now, we will see what they have to say to you.”

Nellie snapped to attention. That meant her.

“You are single, yes?” the woman asked. “Newly single.”

Goosebumps prickled over Nellie’s skin. How had she figured that? “About three months now, yeah,” she returned.

“Mm,” the woman hummed and nodded again. “Then you have a choice. Either I can do a general love reading, or, if there is someone specific on your mind,” she said this as if she already knew, “you can give me their name and I will do a reading like your friend’s.”

Nellie hesitated, a lump in her throat. If Zack knew she was doing this, he would give her so much shit. He was a hardline atheist; he didn’t believe in anything but provable facts, something that had been a point of contention in their relationship. She had always believed in something more, some force bigger than herself.

And she wanted to know.

“His name is Zack.”

The woman picked up the deck. “And yours?”

“Oh. Nellie.”

“Thank you,” the woman nodded, and she started to shuffle.

The first card popped out almost immediately; she pulled it from the deck and laid it on the right. A few seconds later, the second card emerged, and she laid it on the left. Not long after, the final card seemed to jump from the deck of its own volition. The woman laughed lightly to herself as she placed it in the center.

“That was quick.”

Nellie rubbed clammy palms on her legs. She didn’t know if that was a good or bad sign.

The woman reached for the first card. “Your card,” she said; and as she flipped it over, Nellie was struck by the imagery. A large red heart pierced through its center by three swords, storm clouds in the background.

She scoffed to herself. That was a little on-the-nose.

“Ah… the Three of Swords reversed,” the woman noted. “You are having trouble moving on from the relationship that recently ended.”

It was a statement, not a question. Nellie stiffened. “You could say that,” she quietly returned.

“Mm,” the woman hummed again. “It is not so bad, though. The Three of Swords indicates that you need to go through this period of grieving to move forward. But you must be careful not to live in that grief and get stuck. You must keep yourself open to what lies ahead.”

But what lies ahead? Nellie wanted to ask. Maybe the cards would tell her.

“Now Zack’s card,” the woman continued. She picked up the left card and flipped it over. A knight charged forward on a horse, a staff in his hand. At the bottom, it read KNIGHT OF WANDS—and like Nellie’s card, it was reversed.

“He’s the person you recently broke up with, yes?” the woman asked.

Nellie blanched. How did she keep doing that? “Yeah,” she confirmed. “After almost two years. We moved here together in January and then… yeah.” She looked down, surprised at her candor. Maybe she’d just needed to say it.

The woman studied her a beat longer before looking back down at the card. “Like the King of Swords in the previous reading, the Knight of Wands is highly ambitious. But he is more impulsive than disciplined. He struggles with impatience, and sometimes fails to think before he speaks.”

“Do you know Zack personally?” Nellie quipped. The woman’s eyes crinkled in amusement before she continued.

“However, because the card is reversed, it indicates that he’s been feeling very frustrated. There are obstacles in his way, ones he cannot control, and he’s unsure how to proceed. Additionally, his frustration might not have anything to do with your relationship at all, but it affected it nonetheless. He must reconcile all this before he can move forward to what he wants.”

Nellie curled her hands into fists on her legs. There had been extraneous strains on her and Zack’s relationship that had played a factor in their break-up, of that there was no doubt. Living together for the first time in a foreign country where neither of them spoke the language, in the midst of a fucking pandemic, unable to do their job, the thing they loved, the thing that had brought them together in the first place. It had piled up on top of them, and they’d broken under the weight of it all.

“Does this resonate with you?” the woman asked. Again, Nellie had a sense that she already knew the answer.

“Yeah, it does,” she said. “But I don’t know if I’m part of what he wants.”

The woman’s eyes sparkled. “Well, let’s see if the final card will tell us.”

She reached for the third and final card, and Nellie reflexively held her breath as she watched her flip it over. The first thing she noticed was the bright red background. Then, a man and a woman, each holding a cup in their hand, the man reaching out toward the woman. TWO OF CUPS, it read.

“I believe you are part of what he wants,” the woman said. “The Two of Cups. This a soulmate card, my dear.”

* * * *

Nellie tried to pay the woman for the readings, but she refused the money. “The spirits had me seek you out,” she said. Nellie didn’t argue. She just thanked her and practically ran out of the stall, her head spinning.

Soulmates? Her and Zack? Please. She didn’t even think he believed in the concept.

“Wait up!” Torrance called as they exited the alleyway. Nellie spotted the 7-Eleven up ahead and started walking faster. Torrance had to jog to catch up with her. “Well, that was intense,” she remarked.

Nellie didn’t respond.

“Nell.”

“What?”

“That woman just said you and Zack are soulmates, and you’re clearly feeling some type of way about it.”

They came to an intersection, and Nellie jabbed the crosswalk button with her fingers. “She also said that card didn’t necessarily signify romantic soulmates.”

“Okay, but that was a love reading.”

Nellie kept her gaze trained on the crosswalk signal, willing it to change. “It was probably a bunch of bullshit,” she dismissed.

But Torrance shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know, she seemed pretty intuitive to me.”

“Oh yeah?” Nellie returned. “Who’s the Knight of Cups?”

She looked probingly down at her. Torrance blanched. “Okay fine, we won’t talk about it.”

* * * *

But long after they’d returned to the apartment, loaded up with ice cream, Japanese pastries, and more wine, Nellie still couldn’t stop thinking about it. And then, two more glasses deep and well into a Netflix binge session, she got a text. From Zack.

Are you free?

She nudged Torrance and wordlessly showed her the message. Her eyes bulged.

“Now he chooses to mince words?”

Nellie rolled her eyes. “I’m telling him I’m not,” she said and started to type back—but Torrance stopped her.

“No, don’t! You two need to talk.”

Nellie’s brow furrowed in disagreement. “I’m not leaving you here by yourself to go talk to Zack.”

“What, don’t trust me with your stuff?” she joked.

“That’s not—”

“I know,” Torrance interjected. “And seriously, I’ll be fine. Please go talk to him. We don’t both need to be miserable tonight.”

Nellie ran an uncertain hand through her hair. On the contrary, there was no guarantee that talking to Zack wouldn’t just make her more miserable. But Torrance was right. They did need to talk.

“Fine,” she said. “But I’m coming back.”

She didn’t bother changing, but she did pull her long, dark hair out from its messy bun and comb it out with her fingers, double-checking in the bathroom mirror that she looked decent, and then she was out the door. Zack lived two buildings over in the same complex, in what used to be their apartment. Nellie admitted it wasn’t ideal still living so close to him, but options were limited in the current market, and she hadn’t wanted to overstay her welcome with Torrance and Ishimori. Besides, she liked this neighborhood; she was familiar with it. She needed that more than ever right now.

Less than five minutes and she was at his door. She’d never responded to his text, she realized, but it was just as well. He wanted to see her; at least, it had sounded like he did. So, she raised her hand and knocked.

It wasn’t long before Zack answered. He seemed surprised to see her. “So I guess you are free, then?”

A swell of embarrassment flushed Nellie’s face. She was wrong, she shouldn’t have just showed up. Maybe he’d just wanted to talk on the phone, over text—not face-to-face. She must look like an overeager fool.

“Sorry, I should’ve—”

“No,” he cut her off with a shake of his head. “Come in.”

He pulled the door open further, and she gave him a tight smile and moved inside. Soft music floated out from the record player in the corner of the living room; a half-full glass of beer sat on the coffee table. So he’d been drinking, too.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

She looked back at him as he shut the door. “Um, water, actually. I had some wine and I’m starting to get a headache.”

“Ah,” he smirked. “Wine drunk. So that explains you just turning up.”

He disappeared into the kitchen, and Nellie let out a breath. She needed to relax. She moved around to the couch and sank down into the cushions, listening to the music. It was one of Zack’s favorite bands; they’d seen them live in England before all this. She’d gotten him that record player for Christmas. It made her wonder what was going through his head before he’d texted her.

“Here you go.”

Zack reappeared with a glass of ice water. She thanked him and took a long drink as he sat down next to her. It wasn’t until she set the glass atop a coaster on the coffee table and sat back that she realized how close they were.

“So were you just drinking by yourself?” he asked. Cheeky like always.

Nellie pursed her lips. “Not that that would be anything to judge someone for these days... but no. Torrance is over.”

Zack’s brow furrowed. “She is over? And you just left?”

“She practically shoved me out the door, trust me,” Nellie returned, and the implication was obvious: she’d told Torrance what had happened. The mood shifted like the needle on the record player to the next track on the vinyl. There was no avoiding it now.

“So, why’d you want to know if I was free?” she opened.

He laughed shortly. “Is it not obvious?”

“No, it is,” she said. And then, more quietly, “Where’s your head at?”

Zack sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Honestly, I don’t know, Nell. But it shouldn’t have happened, should it?”

Nellie’s heart dropped to her stomach. She felt the same didn’t she? Then why did it hurt so much hearing him say it? “I guess not,” she returned.

“I’m not saying that I regret it,” he quickly clarified. “I don’t, at all. Nell, I would take you to my bed right now.”

“But?”

“But. There’s a reason we broke up. Reasons, plural.”

Nellie’s nose burned. She thought of the tarot reading again, the Knight of Wands reversed, all the outside stresses that they’d been under, that they were still under. She wanted to bring it up to him—the circumstances, not the tarot reading; he’d laugh her out of the apartment if she brought up the tarot reading—but it felt like it wouldn’t make a difference.

And yet. “What if the reasons were all extraneous?”

Zack looked confused. “What?”

She pivoted to face him on the couch, and her knee bumped his. “I mean, what if the reasons we broke up weren’t actually issues between us, but outside issues that affected us?”

He sighed again. “Nell, we were fighting about everything.”

“Yeah, because we were cooped up here together, unable to work, unable to go anywhere or do anything, really. You don’t think that maybe that had something to do with it, that maybe it was just the circumstances we were under and not actually us?”

“I’m sure it did have something to do with it, but what if it just sped up the inevitable?”

The air was knocked from Nellie’s lungs. Was that really how he felt? “Oh.” She was a fool.

“Darling,” Zack started—and then he caught himself, realized what he’d said. Nellie’s eyes steeled.

“Don’t call me that right now.” She stood up from the couch. “You’re right; it shouldn’t have happened.”

She started for the door.

“Nell—”

“I should get back to Torrance,” she said, and with that she walked out.

The Knight of Wands, his impulsiveness.

The Three of Swords, its necessary heartbreak.

The Two of Cups—soulmates.

Nellie wanted to believe that maybe there was something to it. But it felt like it was all just bullshit.

#zack sabre jr fanfiction #zsj fanfiction #zsj x ofc #zack sabre jr fanfic #zsj fanfic

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ticktocklovex · 1 year

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♡ DESCRIPTION : you take on a part-time job which becomes difficult to let go of.

♡ PAIRING : trainee!lee heeseung x female reader

♡ WORD COUNT : 1,503

♡ AUTHOR’S NOTE: not that anyone asked but i actually got into enhypen last year when i got covid for the first time. i stumbled upon iland and have become an engene ever since. i got covid again last week and i ended up binge watching iland again which lead to this fic. i may be adding more parts but i can't promise anything! i hope you guys like this one!

“And you’re all set!” you say as you set down the hair straightener. You use your hand to shield the eyes of the boy in front of you while you spritz some hairspray on his head. “Thanks y/n! It was really nice meeting you.” Jake says, standing up from his seat.

“Nice meeting you too and good luck with your performance!” you cheer. You raise your arms in a ‘fighting’ motion as you give him your brightest smile. Jake flashes you a smile in return which he wasn’t able to muster up earlier due to nervousness. He exits the dressing room to join the rest of the boys who are preparing for their first group performance on I-LAND.

“y/n could you please pass me the hair dryer.” says the older man at the station beside you.

“Here you go oppa.” you say as you hand him the requested tool.

“I told you not to call me that here. It’s fine when we’re in the salon but we need to keep it professional on an outside job like this.” He leans into your ear as he reaches for the hair dryer before returning to style the boy in front of him. You’ve been interning at your older cousin’s hair & makeup studio since the start of junior year, wanting to make some money of your own.

It’s now the beginning of summer break and you’ve landed this temporary job with him as stylists for the survival show I-LAND. “Yes, Cha Heon-ssi.” you correct yourself and turn back to your station to find a doe-eyed boy sitting in the vanity chair.

“Oh hello! I didn’t see you there. I’m y/n, nice to meet you!” you bow as you introduce yourself. He does the same, “Nice to meet you. I’m Lee Heeseung.”

You begin styling his hair while you try to make small talk. The small talk doesn’t last long as you sense a heavy feeling weighing on him. You notice how his deer-like eyes failed to hide his emotions which you sensed to be something more than nervousness. You’re putting the finishing touches on his hairstyle when you speak up again.

“You have really nice teeth.” you blurt out. Heeseung breaks out of his daze and his Bambi eyes look up at you in confusion. “It’d be a shame not to showcase them.” There’s a moment of awkward silence between you two before your cheeks grow hot in embarrassment. You drop your head in an attempt to hide your face.

In that moment, you hear a gentle laugh from the boy in front of you. You look up to see his really nice teeth displayed in a beautiful smile. “Thank you y/n.” he curtly replies. “For what?” you question. “The compliment. Also, I haven’t been able to laugh like that for a while.” he says. For some strange reason, he wants to open up about all the difficulties he’s experienced in the short while since I-LAND began.

There’s just something so comforting about the way your smile reaches your eyes but he withholds himself from trauma dumping on someone he’s just met. “Well, I don’t know what you’re going through in there but you deserve to laugh. You deserve to smile. You know, because you have nice teeth. I’m sure you’ll do great.” Heeseung doesn’t know if it’s because of the rough week he’s had but your words of encouragement touch his heart so deeply that a tear almost escapes him.

You let him know that you’re done working on him and begin to clean up your station. Heeseung stands from the dressing chair with a newfound motivation. Before he heads out, he flashes you one last smile and says, “Thank you.”

Sunday is Heeseung’s favorite day. He didn’t always have a preference of days but after spending two months in a building that was supposed to represent an egg, everyday started to feel the same. Except for Sunday. Sunday was test day and although tests were nerve-wracking and anxiety inducing, he was also excited because test day meant he got to see you.

Seeing you felt like a breath of fresh air after spending every day with the same twenty two guys. Not to mention they weren’t allowed to have any outside communication meaning no phones or social media. Surely Heeseung wasn’t the only one who looked forward to your weekly visit.

The feeling was mutual. You didn’t have many plans for summer break this year other than working with your cousin at his salon. Sundays were also becoming your favorite. Due to the nature of your father’s work as a diplomat, you moved around a lot which resulted in you being home-schooled.

So getting to meet these guys on a weekly basis was the closest thing you’ve felt to friendship. Speaking of friendship, you were currently in the dressing room chatting away with Kim Sunoo who was a friend of the same age. “I can’t believe there’s only 3 more weeks until the finale.” he says as you’re busy working on his makeup.

“I’m rooting for your debut!” you exclaim in reply. He playfully rolls his eyes. “I bet you say that to the rest of the guys here.” You let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, you’re not wrong. I think you’re all so talented and hardworking.” He nods along in agreement. You sense his nerves suddenly take over him.

“But hey, you always have my vote, my special ‘03 friend!” you say to try to lift his mood. He instantly brightens up and you two share a sweet embrace. The moment is cut short when you hear someone clear their throat beside you. “I’m sorry to ruin the moment but may I be styled next?” Heeseung asks.

You let go of Sunoo and straighten yourself out. “Yup, I was just about finished with you Sunoo.” you say and he gets up from the dressing chair. Heeseung replaces him in the chair as you wave Sunoo goodbye. You begin working on his hair and you two naturally fall into conversation as you’ve grown accustomed to in the past weeks.

“Do I have your vote too?” Heeseung suddenly asks you. You give him a reassuring smile. “I’m sure you won’t need my vote since you’re the ace.” His doe eyes flash disappointment for a moment before you continue. “But yes, you also definitely have my vote too. If there’s anyone who deserves to debut, it’s you.”

Although Heeseung knows you also say similar things to the other guys, he’s still greatly encouraged to hear those words from you. You finish up with Heeseung’s hair and makeup and wish him luck on their performance. When the dressing room is empty you turn to your cousin. “Oppa, can I use your email? Looks like I have a lot of voting to do.”

“Are you okay? You don’t look too well.” Heeseung asks you. You were trying your best to hide your restlessness but the lack of color in your face and shaky hands gave you away. You were currently doing hair and makeup touch ups before the I-LAND boys head back on stage for the final debut lineup.

“Why am I so nervous? I’m not even the one debuting.” you question yourself. “I hope you’re not too nervous to give me a last word of encouragement.” Heeseung looks at you in anticipation. Although your interactions are quite limited, your weekly cheers for him have helped him endure even the hardest moments of the survival program. It’s the first time your mind is unable to form a coherent sentence but you wanted to express your sincere support.

“Lee Heeseung, fighting!” you cheer. You both breakout in laughter and although his future is on the line, Heeseung heads back on stage with a comfortable optimism. You, on the other hand, were not feeling too cheerful. Not only were you nervous for the boys who have been fighting for their chance to debut, you were also faced with the sad reality that this may be the last time you would get to see them.

The boys you grew an attachment to over the summer were now standing on stage, the final lineup announcement having been made. There were no words to describe Heeseung’s joy to find out he would finally make his debut as an ENHYPEN member along with Jungwon, Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo and Niki.

After receiving congratulations from the senior artists, producers, and I-LAND contestants, the boys finally get the chance to retrieve their belongings from the place they called home for the past three months. Heeseung makes his way backstage, hoping to share the good news with you but you aren’t there. He’s disappointed to see that you’re not in the dressing room either.

Heeseung’s heart is filled to the brim with happiness but there’s a small part of him that feels a little empty, not being able to share his success with his number one supporter and personal cheerleader.

#enhypenwriters #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen heeseung #enhypen

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dietcokedemise · 11 months

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confessions of a junkorexic

may 30, 2023 | entry #7

has it been over two months since my last entry? yes. was this absence caused by an almost three month long binge cycle? also yes.

the only reason i haven’t slammed my head into a brick wall yet is because i’ve somehow managed to maintain my weight throughout the whole ordeal. don’t get me wrong i’m still severely overweight, but i managed to avoid gaining any substantial weight during my binge episode so i guess that’s a positive? in my last journal entry (3/15/22) i weighed in at 201.4 lbs and as of last wednesday (5/24/22) i am now a whopping 201 lbs even. granted, my weight definitely fluctuated between then and now but at least i didn’t do any severe damage.

on the flip side, the binge did set me back pretty far goal wise. i told myself that i wanted to lose 50lbs by summer, but tomorrow is the first day of june and i’ve only managed to lose 20lbs since JANUARY!! i have no one to blame but myself honestly. it’s my fault i don’t exercise as often as i should. it’s my fault that i don’t possess an ounce of self control around food. it’s my fault that i spend all day feeling sorry for myself instead of getting up and doing something to change my circumstances. i’d be easier on myself if i was naive to my faults, but since i am so painfully aware of my self sabotaging, i feel like i’d only be doing myself even more of a disservice by not holding myself accountable. so for the millionth time in a row, i’m back to treating myself like a toddler. no exceptions, no breaks, no “treat days”, nothing. i’ve gotta tighten the reigns now if i want to get anywhere near my gw by the end of the year.

it’s times like this where i wonder if this attempt will be the last attempt? if this is where i stop wishing for something and actually buckle down and work my ass off to achieve it? whenever you hear people tell their stories about how they accomplished a goal they always have some “eye opening moment” that made everything click for them and gave them the motivation to follow through. i hope my moment comes soon…i need it to come soon.

———————————————————————

food log

breakfast

N/A (0 cals)

lunch

N/A (0 cals)

dinner

chicken caesar salad (335 cals)

snack(s)

popcorn…like a lot of popcorn (608 cals)

water w/ sugar free drink mix (5 cals)

cal intake

953 cals

———————————————————————

daily stats

201 lbs (91.2 kgs) [5/24/23]

bmi

steps

over 1,200 (estimated)

hrs fasted

days binge free

mood

😕❤️‍🩹🐋😪🍿

#its not as simple as just eating #ed bllog #tw ed diet #tw edd #disordered eating thoughts #ed but not sheeran #i wanna be small #tw ana diary #tw disordered eating #ana trigger #b!nge #confessions of a junkorexic

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 10 months

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Robert Shrimsley discovers The Sopranos.

"The good news is I’ve just found this amazing new series to binge-watch. The bad news is that I can’t talk to anyone about it because it’s The Sopranos. I’m not quite sure what made us take the plunge. Maybe we wanted something less bloody after the wall-to-wall coverage of the This Morning saga, which saw Machine Gun Schofield brought down in a hail of unattributable quotes and schadenfreude. But it’s so good. You really should watch it, except, of course, you probably already have. So my wife and I are therefore devoting hours of our lives to bingeing on something that we cannot discuss with anyone because it turns out that we are the last people on Earth who had not already seen it.

Part of the joy of great TV is talking about it with others, but this time conversational gambits are pretty limited. There are only two responses to, “We’ve just started watching The Sopranos.” The first is, “Again?” and the second is, “You’ve never seen The Sopranos?”. Tiresomely, the second almost always follows the first despite the fact that it was rendered unnecessary by the previous answer. (The same thing happens at Pret A Manger when you reply in the negative to the question, “Taking away?”. The follow-up is invariably, “Eating in?”, which leaves you wondering about the other options that still need to be ruled out. Is there a Schrödinger’s Super Club sandwich that can be simultaneously consumed both on and off the premises?)

The incredulous “You’ve never seen The Sopranos?” reply comes with a fully loaded moral judgment which openly marks you down as a poor cultural sherpa. Bada Bing! Our social cachet is sleeping with the fishes. So we are denied the simple human pleasure of telling friends that “we’ve just found this amazing new series”, with its delightful subtext “which you won’t know about because you are not as cool as us”. We don’t get points for finding a series made outside the G20, nor can we claim to be watching the original foreign-language version with subtitles for those who don’t speak “Joisey”. We are merely signalling that at a time when there was only one great show on TV, we weren’t watching it.

Perhaps our sense of separation is a foretaste of life when everyone is wearing the virtual and augmented reality headsets being built by Apple and experiencing their entertainment in personalised isolation. There are people who wear these gaps in their culture as a badge of defiance, a sign of their higher aesthetic. They boast drearily about how they’ve “never watched The Wire” or “thought The West Wing unrealistic” (really, you think?). But that’s hard to carry off when you are known to have enjoyed Ted Lasso. (Only series one, obviously, because, you know, it really went downhill after that.)

I’m not really clear why I didn’t watch The Sopranos. It may be the spawn’s fault. Series one came to the UK in the year the boy was born and during that first-child haze when our only reliable TV experiences were the Teletubbies and 7am Sunday reruns of Match of the Day. In our new state of exhaustion perhaps it was on too late, or we kept forgetting to programme the video, or maybe the painstaking character development was just a bit too slow to keep me from falling asleep on the sofa. Having missed the first wave, we never got around to catching up. The boy, all innocence, caught us watching it the other day and dropped into the whole “How come you haven’t seen it?” shtick, to which the only possible reply was, “I don’t know, how come it took you 18 months to sleep through the night?”

It could be worse. Instead of being the last person to evangelise The Sopranos, I could have been the first to rave about Glee during the five early episodes, when it apparently wasn’t too bad. Worse, I could still be trying to persuade people that Schitt’s Creek really is worth sticking with because there’s a good joke in series three. I may be late to the party, but at least my taste remains unimpeachable. Anyway, in a few weeks we will have finished the series, erased our secret shame and moved on to something really cutting edge. I’ve heard good things about Breaking Bad."

[Financial Times]

#TV #The Sopranos #words and writing #Financial Times #binge watching

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mareebrittenford · 3 months

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SloMo WriNo: Failure Proofing Your Goals

A Novel in one year.

So, what are the numbers for that?

If you’re so inclined, you’ve probably already done the math, and come up with some numbers for yourself.

That’s all very nice, but the problem with word count goals, is that you can create a situation where your writing becomes a pass/fail situation.

A situation where if you perceive yourself as failing (did I meet my word count goal this week? No? I AM A FAILURE!) and the pressure rises, it starts to feel safer to simply quit, rather than face repeated failures.

I’m against that sort of thing. (The quitting and also the negative self talk.)

So how does one measure progress without creating that sort of situation? How can you win the psychology game of getting words on the page?

Of course everyone is different. But here’s two methods (tricks? hacks?) that work for me at various times.

Low Goal, High Results. (The Min-Max zone)

The idea with this is to set a daily, or per session word count goal that feels too easy.

Of course with that number, even if you write every single day for a year that will only give you 36 500 words. Not a novel. Barely a novella!

It’s a common psychological trick. But it’s common for a reason. It works!

This is the method that I use most of the time, and I strongly recommend you give it a decent try (6 weeks at least.)

Higher Goals to Plan For Misses