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Film

Hollywood Stage: The Ultimate Guide to Standard American English Accent for Actors

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ActingStandard American English (SAE) Accent

The importance of a Standard American English accent for an actor in Hollywood can vary depending on the specific roles and projects. However, having a good command of Standard American English is generally considered beneficial for several reasons:

  1. Versatility in Casting: Many Hollywood productions, especially those with broader appeal or international distribution, prefer actors who can speak with a Standard American English accent. This accent is often perceived as neutral and can suit a wide range of characters and genres, allowing actors to be more versatile in their casting options.
  2. Mainstream Accessibility: Hollywood films and television shows are created for a global audience. Using a Standard American English accent makes the dialogue more accessible to a broad viewership. It helps eliminate potential barriers that might arise with strong regional accents, ensuring that the narrative is easily understood by diverse audiences.
  3. National and International Marketability: Actors with a strong command of Standard American English are often more marketable not only in the U.S. but also internationally. This is particularly relevant for actors who aspire to work in major productions that are distributed worldwide. A neutral accent can enhance an actor’s appeal and increase their chances of being cast in a variety of projects.
  4. Professionalism and Consistency: In the professional environment of Hollywood, being able to speak with a Standard American English accent is often associated with a high level of professionalism. It allows actors to maintain consistency in their performances and communicate effectively with directors, producers, and fellow cast members.
  5. Casting Preferences: While certain roles may require specific regional accents, many casting calls, especially for leading roles or characters without a specific regional background, specify a preference for Standard American English. Actors who can seamlessly switch between accents, including the standard one, have a competitive edge in the audition process.

It’s important to note that while a Standard American English accent is advantageous, Hollywood also appreciates authenticity in character portrayal. There are instances where specific regional accents are crucial for roles, and actors may need to adapt accordingly. Overall, versatility and the ability to convincingly portray a range of characters, including those with different accents, contribute to an actor’s success in Hollywood.

Standard American English is often considered a neutral or unmarked accent in the United States. It is the accent typically used by national news anchors, in formal public speaking, and in many Hollywood films. While it doesn’t specifically belong to any one region, it incorporates features that are generally found in the Midwest and Western parts of the country.

Key characteristics of the Standard American English accent include:

  1. Rhoticity: Most speakers of Standard American English pronounce the “r” sound at the end of words and before consonants, as opposed to non-rhotic accents found in some other English-speaking regions.
  2. Vowel Sounds: Standard American English tends to have a relatively “neutral” vowel system compared to some regional accents. For example, the vowels in words like “cot” and “caught” are often pronounced the same.
  3. General Lack of Strong Regional Markers: While regional accents are prevalent in the United States, the Standard American English accent aims to avoid strong regional markers. This makes it a common choice for national media and communication.

It’s important to note that even within Standard American English, there can be variations based on factors such as ethnicity, socioeconomic background, and individual idiosyncrasies. Additionally, regional accents such as the Southern, New York, Boston, or Midwestern accents have distinct characteristics that deviate from the neutral Standard American English. Actors often study these regional accents for specific roles to add authenticity to their performances.

  1. Wider Range of Roles: Mastering the American accent significantly expands an actor’s range of available roles. Many Hollywood productions and television series are set in the United States, and having a convincing American accent is often a prerequisite for casting. Whether it’s playing a lead in a New York-based drama or a supporting role in a Hollywood blockbuster, the ability to speak with an authentic American accent opens doors to a multitude of opportunities.
  2. Increased Marketability: Hollywood remains a global entertainment powerhouse, and actors with the ability to speak with an American accent are more marketable on an international scale. American films and TV shows have a vast audience worldwide, and casting directors often seek actors who can seamlessly integrate into these productions. This marketability extends beyond just American-based projects, making an actor appealing to a broader range of audiences and productions.
  3. Credibility and Authenticity: Accurate accents contribute to the credibility and authenticity of a performance. In American-centric storylines, an actor with a flawless American accent enhances the immersive experience for audiences. This authenticity is crucial for building a connection between the actor and the character, fostering a more genuine and relatable portrayal.
  4. Competitive Edge in Auditions: In the highly competitive world of acting, even a slight advantage can make a significant difference. When auditioning for roles in American productions, having a native or near-native American accent gives actors a competitive edge. Casting directors appreciate actors who can effortlessly slip into the linguistic nuances of the characters they are auditioning for, making them more likely to stand out and secure the coveted roles.
  5. Versatility in Character Portrayal: The American accent is incredibly diverse, with regional variations and accents specific to different communities. Mastering this diversity allows actors to portray characters from various backgrounds, adding depth and authenticity to their performances. Whether it’s a Southern drawl, a New York twang, or a neutral Midwestern accent, the ability to navigate these nuances showcases an actor’s versatility and commitment to their craft.

More on this topic: Art of Acting: The Definitive Guide to Vocal Training for Performers

There is no better companion than the timeless classic, “Speak with Distinction” by Edith Skinner.

Published in 1942, this seminal work by the esteemed voice and speech coach, Edith Skinner, has withstood the test of time, serving as a beacon for actors seeking to refine their vocal prowess. With a foundation rooted in clarity, distinction, and the nuances of American English, Skinner’s insights continue to resonate with aspiring actors and seasoned professionals alike.

The book covers various aspects of speech, including pronunciation, articulation, and the nuances of different sounds. It offers practical exercises and techniques to help actors develop a more distinct and versatile voice. Skinner’s approach is both scholarly and practical, making it a valuable resource for actors, voice coaches, and anyone interested in improving their vocal abilities.

You can find the book here.

Conclusion:

For actors aiming to make a mark in the global entertainment industry, acquiring the skill of speaking with an American accent is a strategic investment. It not only enhances their casting potential in American productions but also increases their versatility, marketability, and overall competitiveness in the competitive landscape of the acting profession.

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Film

Art of Acting: The Definitive Guide to Vocal Training for Performers

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Introduction:

In the dynamic realm of acting, the spoken word wields unparalleled power. An actor’s voice transcends mere dialogue delivery; it serves as a dynamic instrument, capable of conveying emotion, nuance, and depth. Despite often being overshadowed by other acting skills, vocal training emerges as a pivotal force in unlocking an actor’s full potential. In this blog, we delve into the profound significance of vocal training in acting and its transformative impact on a performer’s ability to captivate and connect with audiences.

Section 1: Expression and Emotion

Acting hinges on communication, and a well-trained voice becomes the conduit for expressing a myriad of emotions. From the subtle whispers of a secret to the resonant power of a heartfelt monologue, vocal training empowers actors to modulate their voices effectively, breathing life into characters in a way that resonates profoundly with the audience.

Section 2: Character Development

Every character possesses a unique voice that mirrors their personality, background, and motivations. Vocal training becomes the linchpin in helping actors craft distinct voices for their characters, enabling authentic embodiment of roles. Whether exuding the assertiveness of a leader or the delicate timbre of vulnerability, vocal training empowers actors to make choices that elevate the believability of their performances.

Section 3: Projection and Articulation

In expansive theaters or before the camera lens, projection and articulation stand as paramount skills. Vocal training equips actors with the tools to be heard clearly, ensuring their performances reach every corner of the audience. This skill proves particularly critical in classical theater or when portraying characters with unique speech patterns.

Section 4: Versatility

Actors navigate diverse roles throughout their careers, and vocal training fosters versatility by expanding an actor’s vocal range. This adaptability proves invaluable, enabling actors to seamlessly transition between genres, time periods, and character types without compromising the integrity of their performances.

Section 5: Building Confidence

A well-trained voice instills confidence in actors both on and off the stage. The assurance of possessing vocal dexterity to convey a character’s emotions elevates an actor’s self-confidence, contributing to not only enhanced individual performances but also fostering a positive, collaborative atmosphere within the acting ensemble.

Section 6: Effective Communication with Directors and Co-actors

Clear communication is imperative in any collaborative artistic endeavor. Vocal training aids actors in articulating ideas effectively during rehearsals, fostering a collaborative working environment. Additionally, a well-trained voice facilitates seamless interaction with co-actors, enhancing the development of authentic on-screen or on-stage relationships.

More on this topic: Unveiling the Art of Elevation: A Journey into the Heart of Acting

Vocal Exercises for Actors:

1. Breath Control Exercise:

  • Purpose: Enhances breath support for sustained speech and projection.
  • How to do it: Follow steps with clear instructions for optimal results.

2. Vocal Warm-ups with Scales:

  • Purpose: Improves vocal range, flexibility, and pitch control.
  • How to do it: Provide a step-by-step guide using a piano, keyboard, or pitch app.

3. Articulation and Diction Exercise: Tongue Twisters:

  • Purpose: Enhances clarity of speech, articulation, and overall diction.
  • How to do it: Offer challenging tongue twisters and guidance on gradual speed increase.

4. Resonance Exercise: Humming and Buzzing:

  • Purpose: Develops resonance and vibrancy in the voice.
  • How to do it: Detailed steps for humming and buzzing exercises with variations.

5. Character Voice Exploration:

  • Purpose: Develops versatility in vocal expression and character differentiation.
  • How to do it: Step-by-step instructions for exploring different vocal qualities.

More on this topic: The Power of Presence: Building Authentic Connections on Stage and Screen

Conclusion:

Vocal training emerges as the thread weaving together emotion, expression, and authenticity. As actors diligently refine their vocal skills, they unlock the full spectrum of their artistic potential. From whispered confessions to resounding declarations, a well-trained voice serves as the key to delivering performances that linger in the hearts of audiences long after the curtain falls. Explore these vocal exercises regularly to embark on a transformative journey toward becoming a more versatile and impactful actor.

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Personal Growth

How Writer Can Live and Create in a Story-Book Style

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I don’t need wine, cos’ I’m intoxicated with words

Bury yourself in an inexplicable sweetness of my words. – Olya Aman

The walls are never a prison, and any roof never stifles me. I manage to preserve the adventurism while being locked and isolated, for my words are real, as solid and true as every imaginable experience. They are the product of chaos, clutter, greed, insatiable hunger — love, tender feeling, sexual satisfaction, loving enthusiasm, and every possible set of emotions and reactions.

Like a hundred amorets, a swarm of words flies about my head. They leap from idea to idea and shot their arrows of completed sentences and passages into my willing heart. My imagination clothes the naked days with tender feelings, and in my happiness, the uneventful life turns into a fascinating adventure.

I worship the blank pages, ready to accept my writing. I trod on printed lines and shrug my shoulders with a delightful feeling of doing something venturesome, something magical, and absolutely unbelievable.

A day without my sweet mental struggle causes me every imaginable woe. I experience that utter weakness of the knees and fear to fall. And my heart beats almost painfully when a glimmer of a beautiful sentence makes my breathing strangely oppressive.

That is love. That is why I write. So if you don’t want to read me, that’s fine. I get my share of dope, pure intoxication, complete happiness in giving my words a chance to live and love.

I am too deliriously happy to care if you don’t like it

When I write I cannot tell if it is pain or pleasure. Every fraction of a second is such pure, beautiful madness. “What can be better than this?”, I say with something between a sob and a laugh.

My wayward nature wishes to be subjected to this strong guidance I feel inside me. My stories are enthralling. Above all, I wish them to be written, released. When it happens, and I click on the ‘publish’ icon, I feel as if I shake hands with this independent being I’ve created, and my heart goes pit-a-pat against my chest.

It doubles my happiness if you can attune to the tragedy or sing in unison with the sad song I’ve written, if you can recite some of my passages or laugh heartily with my protagonists — but if none of this happens, that’s fine. My fictitious characters give me all the possible bliss I need.

I detach myself from the farther life of my stories

My dreamy and even dreary eye is following my heroes in their final stride to adult life, without my motherly watchful attention. The incongruity between the mystery of formation of a story and the masquerade of real, published life creates a curious psychological atmosphere. At first, I feel horribly worried at being caught in the foolishness or lack of logic. But somehow, at the moment of issue, these feelings seem more artificial and frivolous than any mistakes I could have committed in the process.

I reconcile myself to any ridiculous trappings. They were meant to be, settled long before, like developing milestones. Acts, attitudes, external objects and people, bad stories written in the past, weaker characters brought to life in the present — all are the necessities that are wending my way to a future masterpiece.

I am resolved to let some of my breezy writings to live. The truth is painfully simple: if I cannot make head or tail of some of my past work, there might be neither there. If this happens, I allow myself a prolonged moment of hilarious laughter.

I’m not to be bamboozled with negative feedback

There is something positive in the entirely negative criticism, as there is something damaging in a too favorable one. I am on good, or at least on good-humored terms with both, adverse or otherwise.

I receive the first with that serenity, which is a characteristic feature of my personality, and which is close to gayety — an impulse to work harder. I like when it presents a challenge to my penetration. This type of response is the cogwheel of my writing business. I favor it.

The second, more handsome reaction, I receive with a crusty and rather cynical sense of humor. It’s a flicker, a spark of light, a minute shade of delight — I take it with a fit of speculative abstraction as if it is not me they like.

The bare truth is — my story is liked, not me. That particular moment of my life, when it was created, is appreciated. I’ve changed since then. It is not me anymore who wrote it. I feel detached from it in a way and definitely detached from any praise it receives.

I say to my fellow-writers, “Camp out, so to say, away from your finished work.”

Share my fondness for living in a story-book style. Turn the page, start a new chapter, without hesitation, with curiosity and desire to learn something new.

Notice the eternal bliss that is always with you. Don’t let any feedback deprive you of this delicacy of life. It is better to make mistakes often, being happy in the process, than making them often just the same, but with your heart in pieces.

You have words enough in your breast. They beat against one another like birds in a net, struggling to get free. Let them loose with no regrets. Your writer’s voice should sound clearly and forcefully. Your face should shine with the glory of having created, with a sort of ecstasy which redeems every painful event and glorifies every pleasurable moment.

Stay tuned…

Personal Growth

Rearrange in Your Fashion the Person You Love. Mistake That Costs You Your Happiness

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The valuable wisdom of the Tao Te Ching teaches how to avoid a common blunder of many otherwise happy couples

Olya Aman

Phantasmagoric guarantors of family happiness are care above any considerations and love beyond any measure. – Olya Aman

43rd Verse. The softest of all things overrides the hardest of all things. That without substance enters where there is no space. Hence I know the value of nonaction. Teaching without words, performing without actions - few in the world can grasp it - that is the master’s way.Rare indeed are those who obtain the beauty of this world. – Lao-Tzu 2nd Verse of “Tao Te Ching.

The Tao Te Ching, a book of wisdom, is considered by many scholars as teaching that guarantees a balanced, peaceful, and happy life. Eighty-one verses and about 100 short passages in this book of Chinese keeper of the imperial archives Lao-Tzu, can be applied to building a family.

When I read those verses, in an instant, like a shock from the blue, they spoke to me. Shaking authority, they told me,“Just see how you can understand what I say, will you?” And hunting through the years of my married life, I’ve found proof of every word, explicit confirmation of every thesis.

I’ve chosen only one verse that can give you insight into the art of creating a happy relationship. Imagine how valuable is the thoughtful reading and contemplation of all eighty-one of them.

Our first year of married life was absurd and entirely enlightening in such a manner as to be almost legendary. My husband’s political speeches on the place of man and woman in the family union were anecdotal and gave rise to loud protests and clarion laughter from me. My spy games and intellectual schemes aimed to enliven his daily schedule and make planning a permanent habit, tired him out.

“Your day is a brainless harlequinade. You sleep till 3 p.m. and stay awake till 3 a.m. Your absence in the morning irritates me like a gap, faded spot, on the wall where a painting used to hang.” I couldn’t quite decide whether I wanted to cry in pity for myself or to shout in an angry fit just for the same reason. “You are a master of radiant rationality. To compare your husband with a piece of drawing,” his eyes under the darkly drawn brows were bright with amusement, “that is certainly one to you.”

Our life arrangement left me in pure puzzledom. We barely spent any time together. Being a morning person, I felt my energy fading away with the sun leaving the horizon. My husband, on the contrary, was at the pick of his activity just at the time when my eyes were closing fast asleep.

Make it fair between us was my primary aim. We discussed what men could do, and women could not, and my stock of evil imagination was used up to give my husband the creeps. My handsome man employed his sense of the absurd to make me change my mind. I heard him say that a man works hard and can sometimes relax in his male friends’ company staying late at night. And he heard me say that, oddly enough, I work just as hard and deserve an overnight hangover. All these tunes were totally without words; we never attempted to tax in such a way our trust in each other.

There still was a heavy, oppressive sense of thunder in the air each time we started this ancient debate. My husband wanted his strength to be prodigious. “We’ll crack our old misunderstanding when you admit that there cannot be all equal between a wife and a husband in a family.” I motioned him in with my left hand, gave one of my characteristic ‘h’ms’, and pulled his ear with my right in a particular, sensual way — the way that always showed the real power of the ‘weak’ sex.

The softest of all things overrides the hardest of all things.

That without substance enters where there is no space. Hence I know the value of nonaction.

Our hearts were not attuned to change when it was forced with evident mental pressure. We suffered at the thought of our mutual noncompliance. Yet this was the very way to gain by losing. Being worthless, not good enough for each other was high on our list. It made us come very close to the climax of our relationship. We were on the verge of separation when ‘alas’ realized that achieving harmony and happiness involves acceptance and nonaction. This tiny alteration tipped our entire life over. It was a perfect mental summersault because the long-awaited change shambled into our relationship unawares.

Putting this verse in action

To force a change is violence. It conflicts with the harmony of life, and consequently — family.

  • Find value in the nonaction. Any activity can be truth or trash. Lack of it, on the contrary, has a sort of splendid neutrality. It brings natural hope for change.
  • Strength is not about doing a difficult task with muscle involvement. Often by not interfering, you show the power that lacks noisy vulgarity. You simply trust your instincts and love the other person, allowing your heart to be devoted without your mind telling you how to love.
  • There is wisdom in peaceful harmony. Being soft, you override others’ hardness, and the person previously unwilling to change, to get better, will crave for your approval.

Teaching without words, performing without actions — few in the world can grasp it — that is the master’s way.

Rare indeed are those who obtain the beauty of this world.

By being more tolerant, ironically, my husband and I feel happier than when we tried so hard to better our life. There is none of that sense of competition between us that can only be present between ‘dilettante’ couples. We smelled out all the misperceptions and confusions in and out the first year of our married life. We still have things to discuss now and then, mind you. Without being didactic and exaggerated, we out-distance any conflicts. That foxy old scheme of love and care always works. We hug the axiom that it is vital to underrate the troubles and overrate the affections in all disputes. Today we live softly and without effort. Accept each other quietly, without force. Enjoy being together easily, without a struggle. We allow the change without pushing it.

Stay tuned…

Mental Health

She Hated Me Because I Wouldn’t Hate Her

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My best friend happened to be a monomaniac

Olya Aman
Her boyfriend falling in love with me was the last link that held back her devilish hatred.

Eva and I were friends from the first day in college. For seven years, we were spending hours together, talking in person and on the phone. She was a year older and had an air of superiority about her. Now I know I felt some patronage chord in her attitude towards me. A simple village girl, I was shy and sensitive to every misfortune and any offender — easy prey for a person in need of dominance.

Our decision to live together was an odious ordeal destined for a devastating failure. I realized much later the reasons for Eva’s abusive ignorance and suppressive silence at that time. I’m not sure if her unfortunate love affair with a man from the States whom she met on a dating website was one of them. Their love story started when my love story ended. I got married early, and admitting this mistake changed me drastically.

Eva and her man exchanged many beautiful letters; she wanted me to read them all. I was happy with her happiness. Those loving vibes were the only bright emotions at that difficult time in my life. When he came to Minsk for two weeks, they rented a fashionable flat and had a beautiful, as I thought at the time, fortnight together. I lunched with them once. My father took us all on a ride to our village house. A quiet dinner and a stroll around the rural sights followed it. Eva’s American boyfriend left, and as far as I knew, they continued close communication, planning their future together. Eva returned to our shared apartment in silence.

I couldn’t pretend anymore not to understand when I finally understood perfectly well the reasons for that change in Eva. She intended her sudden reserve and complete disregard to be abusive, but it looked pathetic. In the early days of our friendship, I was a fool, too frank and devoted to Eva to think her so stupidly jealous. To know her was, I believe, an education.

I was a sincere, gentle girl. Eva was a city diva. I never considered myself beautiful, only good looking. Eva carried herself as if admiration was a common thing she pocketed every day. I think my splendid stupidity in not aiming at the same effect maddened her. I admired her as I admired a good book, educational, and entertaining. But I couldn’t be got to envying beauty. And this beauty wanted to be envied.

Eva favored my friendship only to look superior to my somewhat shabby outfit. She saw me as a dependant — to make me feel a failure. I didn’t feel it. I never thought that frugal life is something I should be ashamed of. After seven years of it, I didn’t turn a hair. Eva calculated that the harsh separation I was living through was her last chance to see my ruin, and she offered to live together. I regret only that this one year washed out even the briefest memory of our happier moments. By that time, she was a monomaniac with her hatred throttling everything good still left in her.

The crisis she planned was this long-awaited meeting with her man. Eva offered that country drive with my dad to my homely place to show the contrast between us to this handsome American. Too late, she realized her miscalculation. The honored and mature boyfriend of hers spent many years in Afghanistan building schools and universities, helping the ones in need. My now-dead father, with no knowledge of English, became his best friend. My mother’s hospitality made his eyes water. On leaving our cozy little cottage, he gave my father a handmade prayer rosary he always carried in his breast pocket.

I still don’t know if I was the reason for their relationship to end. I’m almost positive he, being a gentleman, never as much as mentioned my name to her. Eva’s silence, as a recurring punishment for his coldness, most likely had drifted them apart.

I divorced my husband and moved to the United States. One day, I found myself reading a love letter from Eva’s man. It was a complete surprise, and I hope my response, full of respect, gratitude, and gentle rejection, didn’t cause too much pain to this beautiful person.

Stay tuned…

Parenting

A Skeleton in My Family’s Cupboard Is a Skeleton of a Dog

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Penetrate the darkness which clouded over the fate of one girl

This story begins in a sheepfold — it associates with kids — gropes its way through dreadful life mutilation, and stops where only death reigns. – Olya Aman

I reveal this tale in the first person — the way it was told to me by my cousin, let it be written. I’ll use all my mastery over the written word to give it the voice and mood of the people involved.

I was guilty of an act of naughtiness every time I had any chance to tax my parents’ patience. How mischievous I was — matters of no moment. You can laugh at my awkwardness, my stammering, and slowness at some other time. My parents were too much absorbed in daily hassles to fight against my whims and screams. I wanted a dog, and when my mom agreed with few objections, I chose the ugliest little creature ever existent. I always was the black sheep of the flock, and my dog was no better. Not any child but me could have picked such a nasty little beast. When my mom was holding my hand in front of a cage with the eight offsprings of our neighbor’s huge German King Shepherd, I saw her scowl at the little baldy black pup — and I knew instantly which one to take home with me.

He was the smallest of the brood and, surprisingly, grew up to be the biggest of the eight. He did everything with a bang; he barked in season and out of it. Dundee, the name I picked to commemorate my love for the famous movie Crocodile Dundee, was mad with rage at cats and rats, and mad with love for kids and chickens. Don’t even ask me why? He had that hearty, downright kindness towards little lady-girls. He would let all children do what they pleased with him, ride on his back, drag him by his tail, pull his ears. Try what not — he was patience and good humor personified. But Dundee licked the faces of girls and only the hands of boys.

It was our second year together when I began to suspect that Dundee was unfaithful to me. I discovered that he had fallen in love with the prettiest thing in our village. The cunning, flirtatious creature was a girl of my age. She had the biggest blue eyes and that rosy mouth of a doll that made people think she constantly was blowing the air out or getting ready to kiss every living thing. But Alisa, that was the name of the girl, was somewhat handicapped. She seemed to live in a dream, talking about flowers and imagining herself to be a dandelion, the abundance of which was a calling card of our place. She danced, not walked, sang instead of talking, and was dressed only in green, and with her hair of a sunny yellow shade, she reminded of the wretched weed indeed.

Her father was a simple and naïve widower. About a month before the dreadful scene, Victor set us all by the ears by bringing the most heartless and deceitful person of the entire region to our remote village. I searched back through the labyrinth of my past to bring back to you the rumors about this vile person because every one of them later, when he’d paid for his deeds, proved to be the truth. He was known to beat his wife when liquor got into his head, which happened way too often. There was definitely a screw loose in his head when it came to pretty young ladies. People saw him quadrupedal in the grass close to the school, doing no one knew what. Victor, Alisa’s father, considered this brutal man to be his friend. Women and men alike scolded Victor for associating with this vile person. We knew the gossips and believed it. But Alisa’s father turned a deaf ear to all those warnings. Victor repeatedly stated that he was saved from robbery and brutal bitting by this man. He paid the debt with respect and trust. Later, we suspected that the man himself organized the attack to get closer to the father of the most charming little flower in our parts.

Victor was overprotective of his stunning little daughter. She was a living proof that one time in his life, a woman loved him and bore him a child paying for this deed with her life. When my scary-looking Dundee saw the pretty thing, he lost his head. From then on, he ran off to her garden and came home only to satisfy his appetite for the leftovers of my mother’s delicious cooking and to spend the night, as was a custom between us, by my bedside. Dundee was devoted to me but, at the same time, adored Alisa. He couldn’t help being always close to this flowery creature. Alisa knew to the smallest detail the unsparing anatomy of my dog’s heart. Somehow they looked like a perfect pair — A Beauty & The Beast. Dundee brushed up his manners and looked a perfect gentle-dog, always smoothing away the creases of her dress and holding in his vast mouth the dandelions she picked.

Try as I might, I couldn’t rummage through my memory for the exact date for the dreadful incident. The closest I can get is to recollect that it happened sometime after my twelve’s birthday. I remember that my mother was still riding the high horse, angry with me for a broken vase and an adventure of a ruined birthday dress. 
The date is of no importance, though, as now we are at an unspeakably delicate distance from the heart wrecking events. Those I couldn’t wash from my memory hard as I tried.

Victor never left his precious daughter home alone. Wherever he went, he always took Alisa with him. He had no regular employment, leaving his job as a welder when his wife died. Being a skilled man he was never left without work, helping everyone in the village with everything anyone needed assistance with.

That unfortunate day, a call from his malicious friend forced him to go out late at night. As we learned later, he called at ten p.m. and requested urgent help in some simple but important matter, claiming the occasion not worth explaining on the phone and demanding to see Victor in person. He only said that it would not take long, that they just needed to talk it over in the nearest village pub. Victor should have refused point-blank, but the man insisted, saying he would consider this favor as a payment of the old debt. Victor looked in his daughter’s room. The girl was fast asleep, and he thought somehow it would be ok to leave her for a couple of hours unattended. Little that he knew about the mischievous plot set up by his fraudulent friend.

At the same time, in my room, my furious beast was out of all sorts. It was the only hour when my dog was invariably by my side. I can admit now that I forced Dundee to sleep by my bedside when he would have rather preferred a hut outside in our garden. I was getting ready to sleep and could not get him to calm down. Something stirred him up. Dundee was continuously whining and scratching at the closed door. He never behaved like that before. I gave in and let him go, wondering what the matter with my dog was. We learned from Victor the account of the events that followed. Let me present it in his own narrative.

“I heard the loud barking when I was halfway to the pub where I had the arranged meeting. Dundee almost knocked me to the ground. I should admit, I was scared. The bruit was huge and behaved strangely, pulling the sleeve of my coat and dragging me homewards. I tried to fight Dundee, imploring him to let me go, but to no avail. The creature was out of his mind. Then I had a notion, you know, a tightening in the heart and a loss of regular breath at my throat. Something was amiss with my girl, I thought. Everybody knew about this dog’s devotion to my daughter. How I got back home, I barely can tell. I was running with my heart in my mouth.

“When I approached the house, I saw the light in my daughter’s bedroom and struggled for the key to the door. Not finding one in my pockets, I violently pressed on the door with my whole body and almost cracked my skull when I fell on the floor. The door was not locked! The dog rushed past me, barking viciously all the time. When I entered the room, Dundee was on top of that man. My Alisa was sitting on her bed with her nightdress on the floor and her pretty little face agitated. I covered her in a blanket and ran out of the room to prevent her from seeing the scene of a murder. My side vision couldn’t mistake it for anything else. The villain managed to utter only one frightful cry, and then it was only the sound of growling and chattering. The hip of bloody mass under the fierce dog was past all doctoring.

“I couldn’t help the man. Even then, being so much shaken by what happened, and with my sluggishly working mental powers, I admit, I thought he richly deserved his cruel fate. I needed to save the fragile mind of my precious daughter. By now, she was drawing her breath convulsively. I brought her to my bedroom. Holding her in my arms, I rocked her to and fro, whispering words of tender consolation. I was crying like a baby, hiding my face in the creases of the blanket.”

That was the first thrilling sensation of which all the people of our village were talking for months. The developments that followed began to alter fast. Victor called the police and the ambulance. The death from fatal wounds inflicted by a German King Shepherd named Dundee was stated. The dog, though, was nowhere to find. The law said to put the beast to sleep in a case like that. Police officers and volunteers searched through and through, but they didn’t find Dundee. Alisa was not seriously harmed. I don’t think she realized that her father’s friend, as the man referred to himself when implored the girl to open the door, was about to offend her in any way. He asked her to undress, saying he had a new gown for her, and if she would be a good girl, he would let her try it on. Her mind luckily blotted the other events of that night. She continues to be a beautiful dandelion in her green dress, walking the fields and singing her songs even today.

We seldom talked about the dog. I felt as if treading on the delicate ground each time I mentioned his name. I believed him alive, hiding somewhere. My father told me some years past the true fate of my brave Dundee. At the time of the accident, he and Victor kept it a secret between themselves to make sure the police would not get any notion of what happened. That horrid night Victor called my father, and only when my dad took the dog out of the house and into his van, aiming at his brother’s farm a hundred and fifty miles away, Victor called the ambulance and the police. Shortly after my discovery, I went to my uncle’s farm to learn about my friend’s further life. Here what my uncle said, revealed in his own words.

“Your dog was worth his weight in gold. Take my word for it, dear. He lived a solitary life on my farm, running after the rats and cats and affectionately mothering the chickens. He never expressed any even slight attachment to me or any human being. His heart was forever given to that little flower girl, I think. I often saw him wandering among the fields with a bunch of dandelions in his mouth. He seemed to pass his later years cloudy in the head. Very quiet, very sad. Do you want to see his grave?”

I saw the earth’s elevation under the only tree in a vast field quite far from the house. It was his favorite spot, my uncle said. The very silence of the place seemed to be exaggerated. I battled out of my lethargy and laid a bouquet of dandelions on his grave.

Stay tuned…

Personal Growth

How to Start Writing a Book: A Writer’s Diary – Part III

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Become strong enough to learn how to fail skillfully and get up with grace

Introduction

A. is a 26-year-old office worker who is bored to death. When her boss is looking the other way, she switches the screen of her computer to the pages of her book. She downplays herself and often in conflict with her protagonist. We are going to witness a drift of her thoughts during this process.

If you downplay and mock yourself – you lose self-respect. The agonizing self-rivalry exists in almost everyone. If considerate, it is very productive. Learn what price to pay to become a winning party always. 

Become Strong Enough to Learn How to Fail Skillfully and Get up With Grace

We had our annual ‘all hands’ office party yesterday. My colleague Josh was making eyes at me all night. And near the end of the party, he approached me with words: “Look into my eyes – they are so kind.” I responded with mitigated reality: “They are drunk.” He mumbled: “Weeeell..works both ways, doesn’t it?” I’m afraid to say that I was so close to agreeing. Was I that lonely? No way! I came home took my little old bear off my laptop and finally got to work.

When you try to control areas in life that are out of your league, the world goes completely mad and may drag you to the depth of insanity, unless you become strong enough to learn how to fail skillfully and get up with grace.

When you try to write about things that do not interest you, the book becomes a dull play and not one reader will be determined to sit out the performance. Start all over again, and this time you should be armed at all points with full information about your topic and passion for the depiction of it. 

Let Life Give You Wings to Fly

I feel overwhelmed with work duties, cannot put them out of my head even for a couple of days. The company I work for is shrinking, and I may very much be the next one to be laid off. Oh, well… My skin feels the wind of change. The touch of it is a little chilling, but I am going to tune my senses to the wave of it and make the best of my life. At any rate, if I lose my job, I will devote more time to writing.

Life can be a fairytale or a nightmare. It can age you, kill you or give you wings to fly. The good thing about it is that the choice of what to get is yours. And the bad thing is – no one does it consciously.

 Every trial in life is not a limitation, but a kind of self-developing advantage. Consciously accept it and your writing spirit will be always bright, free, and generous. Do not let everyday disheartening occurrences distress you. Your ability to work depends on a healthy state of your mind and body. Cherish those with utmost care. 

Control the Mood That Reigns in Your Reality

Today I forgot my wallet at home. When I was standing in front of the vending machine in our office lunchroom I was close to staging a hungry faint just to see if this soulless ‘food dealer’ had some mercy for me. My protagonist found his love. Will I?

Your reality is the best thing in the world because you control the mood that reigns in it. Be unpredictable and you won’t get bored. Your state of mind is the source of life energy and food just keeps your body in a functional state. 

Recognition is a horrid thing to follow, but a charming thing to have. The chase will exhaust you. You need only art, temper and talent to meet all the illumination of wisdom and the rest is destined for you. 

When you control your mood, you are always able to stay remarkably fresh to your readers, and remarkably well-seasoned to your critics.

Conclusion

Today is just the day when I feel so manly with all the responsibilities I have. My main priority – my book – is slowed down by them. I’ll keep my job if I make an extra effort there, somewhat here, and chiefly everywhere. To pay the bills means to work more and write less. I wish I could trade my skirt-manliness for the one that wears pants.

 You can be irreparably older than your peers. And years have nothing to do with it. You age faster with the questions you ask yourself. If accustomed to asking and listening, you will easily mystify and captivate your readers. 

Your book will come to houses and feel at home. It will change the interior with new impressions and experiences. Everything will feel familiar and at the same time strange. And although the outside stays the same, the change inside will make people feel cozy in their chairs, reading away with a cup of warm beverage in hand. 

Stay tuned…

Personal Growth

How to Start Writing a Book: A Writer’s Diary – Part II

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Never be disheartened!

Introduction

A. is a 26-year-old office worker who is bored to death. When her boss is looking the other way, she switches the screen of her computer to the pages of her book. It gives an anxious, haggard look to her gentle face. A. writes away with an odd mixture of the detached and the involved. We are going to witness a drift of her thoughts during this process.

When you look at a beautiful hand embroidery, you see cross-stitching and think that if you had patience enough, you could do that. The multitude of colors may scare you at first, but you know that to master the skill itself you just need a little training. The reverse side of it, though, looks eerily tangled. And that may add the fear of new and unknown to your feelings.

Life is a custom masterpiece, and the beauty of it is inspiring. The confusing opposite side is a mere bunch of knots that are made along the way. Many or a few – they keep the picture in place – when a thread is over, you make a knot, get a different shade, and keep going.

Never be disheartened!

You Have Power to Grant Eternal Life by a Simple Touch of a Pen to a Paper

 “Mat is cheating. The girl he met at his best friend’s birthday party was paid by his wife to seduce him so she can tarnish his image in her father’s eyes. This way her lover, not her husband, can get that important promotion. But they truly fall in love with each other…”. I keep talking in this way for a little longer before I realize that my cat Rob is no longer listening to this nonsense. He keeps nodding as if understanding while struggling to keep his eyes open. I laugh and affectionately kiss him. He is now so used to my ‘crazy moments’ that he can play the game of ‘attentive listener’ any time when I intensely get to my work.

You have the power to grant eternal life by a simple touch of a pen to a paper. The idea will shine with profound meaning, a character will look at you from a page and walk away to the depth of the narrative to suffer and love, struggle and succeed. 

You should unite the intrinsic and the extrinsic while building the net of your story. It will be in the highest degree engaging and attaching if you play it in your mind (intrinsic) and aloud to an attentive listener (extrinsic). Keep your narrative in admirable order, constantly improving it till it becomes full of light and incapable of blunders. 

Important to Get Away From the Techno-World

Today I was sitting in my favorite coffee shop and racking my brains on how to put another plot twist in my book. A handsome guy entered the shop, got his coffee, and took a seat. No laptop! No smartphone! He was just simply drinking coffee! It looked a bit insane.

Our world is overflowing with information. It’s all the more important to get away from the techno-world and escape to the peaceful embrace of the natural world to recharge your inner batteries.

People in an advanced stage of inspiration had better not be interrupted at all. If you can help it, try to isolate yourself from unnecessary intrusion. Allow yourself to be politely absent from social life for a few productive hours and you will impute ample worth to anything you do. 

Find Enough Power to Push Your True Essence

I was so excited to print out almost all my earlier stories for the first and dearest reader. “Interesting,” my mom never was eager to squander praise, but just one word, which is not even any definite evaluation of my work –is discouraging, to say the least.

It is not easy to enter the backside of your reality and find enough power to push your true essence out and change the shape of your life. You may find little encouragement from your family and some friends. That just means that they care about you but see a lot of pitfalls on your writing way and want to protect you. Cleverly mend your wounded pride and try to be the most comfortable and amenable person to spend time with. No need to prove anything, save your emotional energy for grander deeds. No one, save infinite good time and yourself, can perceive the events of your life. 

Something Old and Stale and Faded

Today two-year-olds can unblock their phones and get to their games, plug in their tablets when the battery is low, and switch on videos on the kids’ YouTube channel. What was I doing at that age? I was eating chalk and cuddling my bear. This no longer fluffy, one-eyed, stitched belly little friend is still sitting on my laptop. I haven’t been writing for three days now. Feeling disappointed in myself.

Some object in the cupboard – the quiet, dusky cupboard where there’s an odor of stale spices – can listen to your chatter with infinite good nature. If you cherish and love that inanimate object, it also becomes affectionate towards you. And when it does, you feel kind protectiveness it irradiates. You can use it as an amulet. 

Something old and stale and faded can be of more beauty than the latest fashionable adornment. The connection to such an object is very gentle and gracious. You cultivate it by sharing memories and impressions with it, by expressing your gratitude every day. This relationship is binding you both like a good book. A simple touch to such a thing can give you inner peace.

Your Book Is Something You Want to Be Seen

Rita texted me today: “Are you okay? How are you doing? I haven’t seen you for a while.” Marketing never was my cup of tea. I haven’t been active on my Facebook, barely posting once a month or even less than that. So when I started to emerge every day across all my social platforms, my friends got worried thinking I had family issues and was now spitting my grief in verbal diarrhea.

Someone’s knowledge about us is a power that is hard to confront. Your book is something you want to be seen. You shouldn’t be too insistent, yet, not too quiet. You need people to remember who you are and what are you up to. So when the time comes for announcing the publication of your book – the audience is ripe with curiosity.

Alterations That Only Experience Can Cause

I often talk to myself while driving. Sometimes I talk to other people, real and imagined. Today I was answering some talk show host’s questions about my book. She was reading some excerpts, and we were discussing her insightful ideas about them. We were laughing a lot and agreeing on almost every idea she had. What a smart person she was and how nice of her to spend that time with me!

Time is irrelevant unless you not only feel the outside changes but the inside, not obvious and even almost imperceptible, alterations that only experience can cause. When you have enough inherent strength to get in with a person whose virtues of the heart serve as an example for you, your personality will muster depth and complexity. This inner change is a precious and welcome sign of the passage of time. 

To boost this magical transformation you need to surround yourself with people who are smarter than you are in areas you want to learn about, wiser than you are in areas you had no idea being existent. If no such people are present in your life at the moment, even self-conversation with an imagined opponent can be a great beginning. It is not insane; it is very normal.

Conclusion

Can silence be unpleasant? It can. My skin feels the cold touch of it in the room full of people. When two are silent, it can be shared friendly and all understanding stillness of like-minded souls. I have nothing to say to people. A crowd started to be distractive for me. I feel a need for time off work and off people.

Often you see how silly bird coming from someone’s mouth to the freedom of open space is flying long distances and singing her song loud enough to spoil life for as long as memory is living. And this thing is highly resilient. People love talking, labeling, and stigmatizing. Is it good? Of course, it’s not! But this is the way it is… Like destroying water, one verbal mistake can crush the sturdiest human rock. 

Words that were said mean something, even if YOU didn’t mean anything. Your intellectual standing in the eyes of people around you can be proved by the thoughts you share with them. Your book is a product of your mind. Do your best to make every word in it worth to be said.

Stay tuned…

Personal Growth

A Beast Bit My Face and Changed Me For the Better

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My face is different. But ‘different’ doesn’t always mean ‘worse’

Olya Aman

I was shocked and, due to that, felt no pain at first. People were shouting and gesturing to one another, trying to figure out how to distract the furious beast. Somehow, I do not recollect exactly how it was pulled from me. The man who helped me in an old blue ‘Zhiguli’ and drove to the village dispensary and later to the nearest town hospital was the owner of the dog. In the hospital, I got nine stitches in four places on my face.

The doctor that performed the work of reconstructing my face did not know about cosmetic stitching. He simply decided the way he would do it was going to be sufficient. During the procedure, I concentrated on his deep, fine-tuned voice. To listen to him was like drinking warm ginger tea on a frosty winter day, and very likely it served as the best anesthetic for me. His work was not bad, just not good.

I have the scars, one is very visible, and people often ask about it. I consider it a part of my unique personality. I like my face. I love myself the way God created me and the way life, not always gentle, adjusted the sacred work.

Thoughts about my mother, her loving face darkened by suffering because of the incident, overpowered the fear of thread, needle, and pain. And even during the recovery, when the only recollection of the event made me shake with uncontrollable sobbing — the result of a great fright — I tried to compose myself with enormous energy. One glance at my mother’s eyes with a distinct element of worry pulled me together, and I did my best to laugh.

Providence is often a cruel teacher. The life-threatening experience I went through was there to spirit me for what was before to come. I had bad days, but not too many. I had loss enough, but too much. Although, I feel completely miserable at times, I do my best to not feel depressed, rather unite the best blessings of my nature and learn to be a gainer in every situation.

Sometimes I think, I am made practically entirely from one heart, and often it thinks itself far too clever and shuts the rational mind up. But it did me a good service so far by helping me to get over emotionally and physically painful moments.

3 Lessons I Learned

  • Painful experience often is the strongest building block of a prominent personality.
  • Everything happens for a reason and your inner and outer looks depend on it.
  • Moments of struggle open the best (or the worst) in people.

I didn’t react to those unfortunate circumstances with deliberate self-pity. I thought of my mother and not of myself. From then on, my desire to give overpowers the desire to take. Lack of selfishness gives me the strength to withstand many of life’s calamities.

Whatever happens, I only need to understand how things are and accept the change, because ‘different’ doesn’t always mean ‘worse’.

Stay tuned…

Parenting

Happy Memories Last a Lifetime If You Know This Simple Truth

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My mom shaped our delicate souls with unconditional love

The snow was deep, the morning was happy, and the planned activity for the day was the most cheerful. A nearby forest was a place for kids’ games and enchanted stories about hidden treasures. The kids from the entire village gathered their sleds, skis, and simple hunks of plastic (those were the best things to sled down the main hill) and met at the designated place.

I put on my best coat. That white-pinkish fake fur made me look like a tiny cloud of thick mist on skinny legs — and taking my makeshift sledding gear, I ran to meet my friends. We had a blast! My face was red, my lips chapped, and my eyes watered from the frosty air, happy shouting and too much laughing.

When I came home at last, much later than my mom allowed me, I looked like a drenched grey mouse. My lovely fur turned into a dirty wet mass. The look on my mother’s face said more than words could. But she composed herself, closed her eyes, and sighed with a soft smile on her lips.

I understood fully her words many years after. At that time, they only meant that she was not cross with me, “You know I love you, cutie pie. Life is a collection of happy moments, so let us have another one together. I will make your favorite pancakes. How about that?”

My sister and I were sitting at our small square solid-wood dining table covered with a sunflower tablecloth. My mom always made our house look like one of Stephen Darbishire’s summer paintings. We had color sprinkled in each room: handmade pillows, embroidered pictures, and lacy doilies on every surface.

I spilled my tea, dotted the space around my teacup with sugar, and put the cuff of my shirt in jam with no reproachful comments from neither my mom nor my sister. The green tea with ginger, lemon, and honey was my mother’s masterpiece. Accompanied by hot pancakes, straight from the pan, it was the greatest luxury of my childhood. I needed to possess a remarkable skill to finish the previous round and soft delicacy in time to stretch my hand for a new hot one before my sister did. It was a fun little competition. Even nowadays we play this game mostly to amuse each other and to make our mom laugh heartily.

My mother knew the power of unconditional love as a parent and chose to show it in three main ways. We can use these in our parenting too:

Choose happy moments to outline life.

To an outsider’s scrupulous eye, it might have been a sad life of many losses, but she decided otherwise. We lost our father when I was three years old, and my mom was only twenty-eight. We were her salvation. Her nature was overly sensitive to every little prick in our humble family life. She shaped our delicate souls with a dominant spirit of unconditional love, and it showed us the path to happiness.

Allow them to experiment and explore.

We attain knowledge by trial and failure, touch, and pain. My mom knew that it was necessary to have something to regret about. There is no freedom in a house in constant order with kids in a state of never broken obedience. Wild tunes should have their place in every family symphony.

The world around us is alive, ruddy, and satisfying only if we are allowed to make mistakes without fear. Being a living embodiment of love, trust, and understanding, she always thought about the consoling things to say when she saw the sparks of tears in our eyes.

Make every moment special.

What to use as a measuring scale when you define life is solely a personal choice. There is a multitude of feelings, countless moments, numerous meetings, hopefully, plentiful impressions — everything has its own emotional shade. The good news is we can choose the colors to paint our life.

We are all composed of the fragments of our various experiences. Being a parent myself, I know it is in my power to make most of these personality-building-moments bright, colorful, and happy for my children.

Stay tuned…