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Film

The Sacred Dance of Words: Honoring the Author Through Meticulous Script Adherence

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In the enchanting realm of the performing arts, where creativity and expression intertwine, actors find themselves on a stage bathed in the spotlight, breathing life into the carefully crafted words of a script. The magic of theater lies not just in the raw talent of the performers but in their ability to pay homage to the unsung hero behind every line – the author. In this dance of interpretation and expression, there exists a sacred duty: to follow the script word for word, a pursuit that honors the very essence of storytelling.

Imagine a symphony where each musician decides to add their unique flair, deviating from the meticulously composed notes. The result would be chaos—a cacophony of individual interpretations clashing in discordant disarray. Similarly, in the world of acting, the script serves as the composer’s masterpiece, and the actor, the instrumentalist tasked with delivering the notes precisely as written.

By adhering to the script with unwavering fidelity, actors become custodians of the author’s vision, ensuring that the narrative unfolds as intended. Each word carries weight, every pause and inflection laden with purpose. It’s a collaborative effort between the playwright and the performer, a dance where the script is the choreographer’s guide.

Authors invest time, emotion, and intellect in sculpting their words, crafting characters, and weaving narratives. To deviate from the script is to risk diluting the essence of the story, altering the intended impact, and, in some cases, robbing the audience of the profound experience the author intended. Honoring the script is a gesture of respect, a recognition of the author’s artistry, and a commitment to preserving the integrity of the narrative.

The sacred bond between actor and script is akin to a sacred pact, an unspoken agreement to convey the author’s message with authenticity. It requires an understanding that every comma, every ellipsis, and every exclamation mark is a brushstroke on the canvas of the audience’s imagination.

Yet, some may argue that true artistry lies in the freedom to interpret and improvise, to bring a personal touch to the performance. While this is undoubtedly a valid perspective, the importance of fidelity to the script lies in the delicate balance between creative expression and the preservation of the author’s intent. It is the actor’s challenge to infuse the script with their essence without overshadowing the brilliance of the written word.

5 Reasons to Preserve the Script’s Sanctity:

  1. Preserving the Author’s Vision: The script is the manifestation of the author’s creative vision and intent. Every word, sentence, and nuance is carefully crafted to convey specific emotions, themes, and messages. Deviating from the script risks altering or diluting the author’s original vision, potentially undermining the impact and resonance of the story.
  2. Maintaining Narrative Integrity: Scripts are meticulously structured to guide the flow of the narrative. Each line contributes to the overall structure and progression of the story. Changing or adding lines without authorization can disrupt the coherence of the plot, leaving the audience confused or missing crucial elements that contribute to the story’s cohesion.
  3. Respecting Artistic Collaboration: The relationship between the author and the performer, as well as the director, is one of artistic collaboration. Following the script demonstrates respect for the collective creative process. Any modifications should be a result of thoughtful discussion and collaboration, ensuring that changes align with the artistic vision shared by all involved parties.
  4. Consistency Across Performances: Scripts serve as a blueprint not only for individual performances but also for consistency across various productions. When actors adhere closely to the script, regardless of the production or venue, they contribute to a cohesive experience for the audience. Consistency is crucial for maintaining the integrity of the work and upholding the expectations of those who appreciate the story.
  5. Professionalism and Ethical Responsibility: Modifying or adding lines without proper authorization can be seen as a breach of professional ethics. It reflects a lack of respect for the collaborative process and can lead to conflicts within the creative team. By adhering to the script, actors demonstrate a commitment to professionalism, ethical responsibility, and a shared dedication to delivering the best possible performance while honoring the author’s work.

In essence, the decision to adhere closely to the script unless directed otherwise by the author or director is rooted in a deep appreciation for the artistic process, a commitment to storytelling integrity, and a respect for the collaborative efforts that bring a script to life on stage or screen.

More on this topic: Crafting Worlds, One Word at a Time: A Writer’s Journey

In conclusion, the importance of following the script word for word is not a restrictive directive but a celebration of collaboration between two artists—the author and the actor. In this sacred dance of words, the script is the melody, and the actor is the dancer, interpreting each note with grace and precision. By honoring the script, actors pay homage to the literary architects who paved the way for the captivating performances that unfold on stage. It is a testament to the enduring power of storytelling and a nod of gratitude to those who penned the tales that continue to captivate our hearts and minds.

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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.

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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.

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Personal Growth

Valuable Tips on How to Build Tireless Habits in Sport  

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The strength was always in you. All you had to do was find it. – Katherine Givens

1) Sometimes the Fastest Way to Get to Your Destination Is by Slowly Taking Small Steps 

There is no need to hurry if it leads to a complete stop in the middle of the road. Let’s say you want to exercise and get in shape. But you have not been to the gym in a couple of years. So now if you decide to go every day and invest an hour and a half or two hours in your workout – you may continue for a week or two, but you end up exhausting the resources of your body and spirit. One day you will find some excuse to not go. The same will happen the next day and as a result you will stop fighting with yourself. But if you take a different approach you will get into the positive habit of physical exercise and eventually you’ll crave that feeling of healthy energy in your body. 

2) By Just Taking It Easier and Giving Yourself Rewarding Gifts You Will Get to the Desired Goal

In the beginning  you force yourself to go twice a week for thirty minutes, promising to get a healthy ice-cream on your way back, which is not the same as the one you used to treat yourself with, but is pretty darn close. Next week you add one more day, in a month you sometimes feel like adding fifteen more minutes, and already after a year you wait for your gym day, you enjoy your hour training and have a couple of sets of very nice looking sportswear.

Conclusion

If you take the same approach in almost everything, having the ultimate goal of creating a habit, you will go very far by moving slowly.

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Personal Growth

3 Success-Defining Reasons to Listen Empathetically 

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Strangers are just family you have yet to come to know. No life is a waste. The only time we waste is the time we spend thinking we are alone. – Mitch Albom (“The five people you meet in heaven.”)

1) The Very Success-Defining Skill 

There are many things that we learn early on but think insignificant and omit in the process of our upbringing. One of them is the very success-defining skill – empathetic listening. That skill involves all our senses: ears, eyes, posture, mimics. It is vital to learn to listen using all of them, and not just to “listen” without even capturing the meaning as we think at this very moment about what we are going to say next. Most of us do that. Pay attention next time and you’ll see the living proof.

2) We Need to Listen Twice as Much as We Talk

We have two ears and one mouth. Isn’t it a sign to be more attentive when someone is sharing information with us? But here again we need to rein in our egos. We think that no one can give us anything valuable, which is such a big mistake. Every person in our lives comes with a definite purpose and you just miss it when you do not pin your ears back and give yourself in full to this moment of shared wisdom.

3) The Art of Asking Questions 

Imagine a foreign language course in your curriculum. And you decided to skip a lesson or two. How hard is it to stay at the same level of knowledge as your more responsible classmates? You feel you need to put so much extra work in now to acquire the same speed they learn with. Of course, in a classroom environment it is easier to grasp the meaning of some rule that is difficult to understand, as there is always someone who will ask the right question that will cause you to understand the teacher’s explanation. The same thing in life: you may miss that particular opportunity to listen, think, and ask the right question and the life you want to live becomes a few steps farther from your reach. We need to master the art of asking questions. And to do that we need to listen and think. And, of course, to have the end result in mind (I mean “why I need to listen” and “what I need to learn”).

Conclusion

The vital ability to think requires some training and a lot of practice time. You go to the gym to make your body fit and strong, and in the same way you need to train your brain to think consciously on subjects of everyday life. I know it is insane to force your mind to think: “take a toothbrush in your right hand and brush the upper left side…” and so on. Our subconscious mind keeps us sane by relieving us of the necessity of tracking every routine movement. But simply by trying to use your left hand more if you are right-handed and vice-versa makes a world of a difference. Small steps like that create a habit of using our thinking muscles more frequently and making them all-weather resistant. Every achievement starts with the unremarkable little steps that we take every day in the direction of our ultimate goal.

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Personal Growth

2 Simple Things That Will Teach You to Enjoy Your Life

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Gratitude is the heart’s memory. – French Proverb

1) We Do Not Control When the Last Day, the Last Hour, or the Last Moment of Our Life Will Be

By some odd universal law, we are not taught to appreciate what we have and should cherish. Interesting fact: we do not control when the last day, the last hour, or the last moment of our life will be. So why not make this day, this hour, this moment special. And it might not be any different day from yesterday and the day before. But it is in your power to make this moment singular by enriching it with thoughts You pick, feelings You define, and images Your eyes want to see.

If you set yourself up to see the bare tree and a foggy gloomy day with no sun in the sky to brighten your “now” – you exclude yourself from the beauty of the smoky-bluish-grey sky, the freshness of misty-dewy air, the soft whispering of the wind and the magnificence of sleeping nature getting ready, growing strength to bloom with colors in spring that is just around the corner. 

2) You Can Consciously Fine-Tune Your Inner Radio-Wave

Enjoy the little things for one day you may look back and realize they were big things. – Robert Brault

You have the control and you are able to consciously fine-tune your inner radio-wave to a “happy-sunny-mood” station. Every breath is precious, every sound is unique, and every glance is dear – love yourself and love every moment. Before you open your eyes after leaving the warm embrace of sleep think about the good you want to bring to this day. Think about the person you want to make happy and what can you do to bring a smile to this lovely face. 

Conclusion

Gratitude is your playmate in this happy-game of life. There are so many things we take for granted and this is the biggest mistake ever made. You are given sight – say “thank you”, you can walk – be appreciative, you are healthy – that is the greatest gift anybody can have. There is no need to go far in search of a brave heart that despite physical limitations or severe health issues inspires people by the example of unconditional love and beauty of their souls. Look around and you may find such person living just a few steps from your threshold. Open your eyes and ears to the messages these people share by an example of their life. 

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Personal Growth

3 Ways How You Can Invest in Yourself

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When everything goes to hell, the people who stand by you without flinching – they are your family. – Jim Butcher

1) Take a Good Book and Take Some Time to Think

John C. Maxwell said: “Thinking is hard work; that’s why so few do it”. Become one of the few. Replace the TV-hungry guy with a friendly educational-video buddy. It is another way to fill in your brain with useful information and ideas for self-development. Make conscious choices when you are going to feed your mind.  This is crucial, eliminate controlling forces from outside and take the reins into your own hands. Do not just turn on the TV and allow yourself to take what you are given without your sensible approval first.  You will find by doing so how growth begins.

2) The Effect of Building Slowly Will Work Its Magic

You cannot build a castle in one day. It takes small steps to create a piece of art. Your mission is to invest your time and energy in building a mansion of unseen beauty that will be able to withstand any weather. This architectural masterpiece is you. When you make that decision, life changes and people suddenly want to confide in you and ask for your opinion. Provide your expert advice with thoughtful appreciation.

3) Your Circle of Friends Will Change Considerably

People you surround yourself with are supposed to help you accomplish your goals. They make you or break you, so choose wisely. You will be amazed to find out that people you thought “fly-too-high and out-of-the-way” are actually very responsive when asked to help out.

Successful people have gone through a lot of hardships on the way to the top. Now they know the path and can tell you the shortcut. It is vital to frame your life in a “better-people-around-me” way. Your social environment is as important to your mental health as nature (the outside environment) is to your physical one. It literally determines the trajectory of your life. Why?

Conclusion

“Eventually, we start to eat what they eat, talk like they talk, read what they read, think like they think, watch what they watch, treat people how they treat them, even dress like they dress.” Darren Hardy gives enough reasons to be selective in this respect. Do not let yourself just drift with a stream of life, paddle the way You want to go.

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Mental Health

4 Vivid Examples of Wise Energy Use

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Holding anger is a poison. It eats you from inside. We think that hating is a weapon, that attacks the person who harmed us. But hatred is a curved blade. And the harm we do, we do to ourselves. – Mitch Albom (“The five people you meet in heaven.”)

1) We Are All Learning Our Way in Life

Jeck Ma said in one of his interviews: “Any mistake is an income, a wonderful revenue.” We are all learning our way in life until we are about twenty years old, he sais. Yes. Sometimes, very often, truly said, we are students of life longer than that. We keep wounding the hearts of people we love with sharp words. Will you agree that the scale of our harshness goes from high to low, and the top chart is given to ourselves and immediately after goes to the ones we love? We keep making choices, big – as a five-year relationship that ends with sorrow and regret, and small – as the wrong exit that adds an extra fifteen minutes to our drive-time. 

2) If Only We Could Learn From the Mistakes We Make 

“Every failure brings with it the seed of an equivalent success.” (Napoleon Hill “Think and Grow Rich”) If only we could learn from the mistakes we make, consider them a lesson, and move on to a better life right after. Wouldn’t it be an achievement? A great experience-investment in a future life with fewer slip-ups. Don’t let yourself have regrets about the past. If you do, you’ll just waste your energy on something you cannot change. Remember everything happens for a reason.

3) Make Better Choices From Now On

Now you are at this point in your life because of the decisions you’ve made in the past. Make better choices from now on and bring only positive energy to your present and future. Peaceful acceptance of yourself will not make you wait long. As a bird that changes the fluffy outfit of a new member of the brood you will enjoy new feathers and the ability to fly. Fly high in the dream sky of your renewed life without destructive feelings towards anything or anybody.

4) Feel Love for the Closest Person in Your Life

Love yourself – your dearest friend and everyday companion. Learn to treat him or her as the love of your life. Be as gentle to this person as you may be to the most cherished people from your surrounding. You may have a mentor in your life, I hope you do, but even if you don’t – think as if you had one. What words would you choose when you ask for guidance and advice? You would be polite and humble, I would guess. But think for a moment about who your dearest and most cherished soul mate is. Who is with you no matter what happens? Who tolerates all your prickly moods and harsh words and is still there to support and give you a shoulder to cry on or, better said, finds you your favorite pillow? Treat this person the way you treat your diamond ring: polish and marvel at the sparkling multifaceted beauty.

Conclusion

Speak to the inner child of this lovely face in the mirror and give him something to laugh about and something to be amazed at. Learn to be alone and love the company of this smart person who is ever-thirsty for knowledge. Share your ideas with this gorgeous soul and be ready to write down the words of wisdom and love, care and true friendship on the wall of your shared life.

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

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

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Your story will rank with the deepest art of all times if you have the command over the written word. – Olya Aman

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. Everybody knows about it and nobody seems to believe that she’s capable of writing it. But she’s determined to stick it to her friends, family, and her cat Rob – an only faithful companion in her lonely one-bedroom apartment life. We are going to witness a drift of her thoughts during this process.

As you lift your head a particular ‘Writing-Sunday’, feel the grandeur of your idea that you desire to communicate to other human beings. Your story will rank with the deepest art of all times if you have the command over the written word. Many fascinating things are still in the regions of the unwritable and the unspoken. Astonish your reader in the interests of truth – things you perfectly, even to the most exquisite nuances, understand.

The Story That Becomes History

I decided to start telling everybody that I am writing a book to push myself to action. I thought about it for a couple of years and it never went farther than just a dream that I was too afraid even to make an effort to fulfill. When at work, family gatherings, and friends’ parties people started to ask me: “How is it going?” “What is it about?” “When will I read it?” – I was too embarrassed to keep lying and STARTED WRITING my book.

Every person is a living myth where the real and imagined blur together. It does not matter if the story is not yet the truth. When a lot of people consider it so – it becomes history. We should learn to tell our story confidently and convincingly. Only then does the desired reality becomes your present.

People should find your story easier to remember than to forget. If you have the ability to control over the ghost of an idea, make it meaningful, depict all unutterable communications, and add a few well-chosen silences, you are a poignantly skilled writer. The best you can do is to encourage your talent. 

Your Life Train Can Go Only Uphill

If I have a thought, it keeps buzzing there like a hyperactive bee confusing the web of my life with that honey bucket bouncing from each strand. When I empty it – write it down, the ability to concentrate and function is back. I was driving from the coffee shop and that idea about Death almost blurred my vision and I, only by some miracle, didn’t miss my turn. I came home and took off my second shoe only when the thought was transferred to the screen of my laptop.

Your train cannot go downhill, only uphill. If your life is a happy creation, the passage of time makes you wealthy with new impressions and knowledge. You trade aging not for fear but for the coin that feeds your curiosity. And the simple magic of being always inquisitive is in sitting in an uncomfortable car of the upward bound train with a magnificent view from the window; dreaming about a comfy sleeping compartment and never getting into one.

Coping with writing-related-difficulties is a game of hide-and-seek. You never know what is wrapped around the next problem. The way you deal with them tells tomes about you as a writer. You should be inexorably grateful for the gift of overcoming the obstacles on your way. You become utterly curious and utterly hungry during this process of personal development. 

Everything Can Be a Source of Energy and Inspiration

My life reminds me of a Rubik’s Cube: one side is red and the others are all messed up and never get into order. I am behind the plan my relatives have for me: 1) to find a job that my father will approve – done! 2) to marry the guy my mom will like – not yet there and often seems never will be 3) to have kids to please my grandma – need to deal with the second point first! Why does even thinking about it makes me sick? The guy in my book is looking for his lifelong partner and failing constantly as well. 

Everything can be a source of energy and vigor: passion, rage, and even fear, but never guilt. Guilt deprives you of the healthy engagement hunger, which is the only source of creating freedom. 

Everyday life has the territories of characters, the acres of concepts, the meadows of thoughts, and the domains of ideas. And I tell you: Why don’t you let them free with the help of your artistic pen? 

When You Know What to Talk About

My best friend Sasha has the look of a naughty baby that just broke my favorite cup with the picture of us smiling. “I read the title and I liked it,” she says. “Next line makes me think that the second sentence will be easier to digest and I will start understanding. When I was done with a paragraph, I went back and read it two more times – and still had no idea what it was all about.” A lump of desperate powerlessness and frustration is blocking my throat and my vision. “You are so smart, so wise and intelligent. Everybody will love it and will be amazed by your style,” she squeezes my hand. “It is just me. I do not know English well enough. You know this is not my strongest side.” I go to the bathroom and switch the water on so that the sound of it will muffle my sobs. I look at my eyes. Tears make them turn from the juicy greenery of young leaves to the mature dark color of ready to wither grass. I love to watch this transformation. Sometimes, just for that reason, I like to cry.

When you know what to talk about with a person – you feel mutual affection. This chemistry between you can grow into true friendship when you drink tea with saffron, cardamom, and ginger in silence that is full of shared beauty of common understanding that whatever is kept quiet has the meaning you can read with every breath. This music does not need words. 

There are people that swagger in your memory as the finest. Read the ready chapters of your book to them. You will get on famously with the feedback from a trusted circle. Do not turn a deaf ear to their response. 

Fear Comes From the Knowledge

I am my worst enemy with all those excuse-walls I build on the way to my artistic calling. Where is my much-valued deviousness? I used to be so inventive playing ‘school game’ with my grandma for two weeks before she realized that she was doing homework for me.

Fear comes not from the pain of a strike, a fall, or a loss but from the knowledge that the one who did it to you is out of your reach or, what is even worth, you don’t even know who that was. 

Inhale the very fragrant of your fear and toss it out of your heart. It should help you to move ahead, not to force you to stop completely. People will judge, some favorably, others – otherwise. There is no product of imagination and experience that will suit everyone. You may make yourself famous with particular chosen people of similar mental construction. So much the better. 

Conclusion

I had a nightmare today. I was skiing and looked awesome in my gear: ski goggles, helmet, and fashionable ski suit. While cruising down the hill, I jumped on a trampoline and I crashed into a tree. I got up: my ski poles were crooked and my skis – broken, my suit was torn and my goggles were smashed, my face was bruised and some teeth were missing. I dusted myself off and looked up, saying: “Still better than at work.” My life is so predictable that even this dream is a breath of fresh air. Still struggling with the second chapter of my book.

Sometimes we need Novocain blockage for emotions to cope with our daily tasks. If everyday life brings sad thoughts, we need to find something to smile at, even if this something is ‘you getting left behind’. Humor – is the best cure for depression. And to know how to be funny is a great achievement. 

You may judge of the success of your efforts by two things: the number of pages written and the vastness of pages crossed and rewritten. This process is laborious and requires a great deal of patience and self-control. You are naturally born to great things. But those things are placed in the middle of the two extremes, between the fear to act and the bravery to dash headfirst. The wise man should have both in moderation and make progress with some fear and a bit more bravery. This way you get moving with more consideration and contemplation.

Stay tuned…