Olive Writes

My first blog. A few random thoughts - but a promise to myself to contribute once a day - as small as it may be - a contribution once a day... should keep the therapist at bay.

[buzzfeed]

Ok, hear me out: breakfast salads are actually pretty great.

[olivewrites]

so dumb but i'm actually going to try

[olivewrites]

All 5 foot 1.5 inches of her fumed across the bridge knocking out tourists with the yoga mat strapped to her back and crossing the path of every happy holiday snap she could find she marched forward feeling the anger welling up from 12 hours of corporate blabber and time wasting… following the stairs down off the bridge some tourists made the mistake of stopping to decide what to do with their life at the bottom of the stairs blocking traffic – barking some common sense into these people they moved out of the way looking a little shocked.. she marched on angrily muttering under her breath..

  A rustling in the bushes caught her attention .. and then again … and then again … as she was approaching a pile of rubbish a rat ran across her path… SCREAM.. and then another SCREEAM and another 3 SCREEEEEAM … all of a sudden she was screaming murder while surrounded by a swarm of rats…

  As quickly as they came – they left … leaving her there to shudder and then eventually laugh at herself … at the bad karma she had bestowed upon herself for being a rude prick and how the shock had taken all her stress away… that’s an interesting business idea she thinks to herself…

  And carries on her merry way home … still shuddering at every pile of rubbish.

[olivewrites]

Today I winked at New York City.

It made me feel powerful – like I had a connection to this great and big and crazy city.

  She was twinkling back at me – so in reality she was winking at me first – way before I even noticed. And finally today I understood our connection and winked back.

  Prior to that it felt like New York City was a bitch pushing down on me; a big, corporate bitch intent on sucking the air from my lungs while raping my soul. But something has happened lately that has made me come to love this heartless bitch and now I can’t ever imagine leaving her. It’s like NYC has kidnapped me and I’ve fallen in love with my kidnapper – I have Stockholm syndrome with New York City.

  The times when I love NYC the most … when I’m looking back at her – in the sanctuary just over the bridge where the skin is darker, the people are brighter and the banter is more genuine. The place where I can get away from the pressures of the corporate world and smile among the shadows of the leafy streets.

  So today even though I winked at New York City – I still went home to the love of my life…

[fictionwritingtips]

I spoke about overcoming writing excuses the other day, but what should you do to keep up your writing productivity once you’ve started? If you’re trying to reach writing goals and remain consistent, focusing on what makes your more productive should help.

Here are 5 tips to increase your...

[olivewrites]

They say in writing you should be truly honest. that your experience of life of any situation is truly unique. I have a story ... it's a love story and I really don't want to write it - it feels cheesy, overdone and frankly pathetic. But my story is a pretty good one. It starts with me being dumped ... I woke up alone in the bed to the sound of the front door creaking open, my boyfriend - no -  the strange boy that i was sleeping in the same bed as for about a year and a half spoke loudly as he closed the door... "i've left you a note" ... my whole body groaned, I knew what it was and I was more annoyed at having to deal with it - after a ten 14 hour consecutive days shooting I was worn out, just a girl that needed some sleep... I screwed my eyes shut willing myself to go back to sleep - just another two hours and then I'll deal with that heavy letter sitting at the edge of the bed - I could hear it crumple every time I moved my feet ... like an annoying little gerbil sitting at the end of the bed - silently mocking me.

I forcibly removed my body from its stubborn sleeping position - and sat up and looked at the note - his boyish writing trying to convey some kind of maturity and reasonable outlook on what our relationship had become. 

I read the note - I didn't even cry. There was anger - quite a bit of anger - a quiet seething anger - there was not enough energy for rage.

Just 14 days prior I had given him an easy out - I could start looking for a job overseas - or I could take the one that had just been offered to me right here at home. His answer which was to take the one at home - which I naively took to mean "stay we'll work this out" ... was a decision I thought we had both decided on. So I took the job here at home and as I read that letter all I could think of is the job that I just accepted and was about to start in just three days time ...

"that fucker"

Now we had a multitude of awkwardness - explaining this break up to our family and mutual friends. Parties and gatherings with awkward silences because as one arrived - the well-meaning conversations with friends when they're not around "he's had one" "you are too good for him" "I told you he was a selfish prick" ... as I smile sadly and think of how much easier this would have been had I picked up moved overseas and left this pity party behind.

[writerswritecompany]

Five Ways to Reconnect with Your Book

Perhaps you’re just starting out with your first novel. Maybe it’s your third and you’re struggling to meet a deadline. All of us, at some stage, need to regroup, reconnect and refocus on our writing projects. To make it a little bit easier, here are five approaches that can speed up the process.

Writer’s Card. Write down your goals. Do this even if you’ve written them down before. It may be a good idea to write it down on an index or post card so that it’s portable—that way you can keep it in your bag, as a bookmark, or pin it to the fridge. This will be a daily reminder of your writing goals. Try to make them as realistic as possible, even if it’s a page or paragraph a day.

Claim a Corner. Virginia Woolf said a woman needed a room of her own if she was to write fiction. A study or library of one’s own—male or female, fiction or non-fiction—is great. But all you really need is a corner of your own: a little dedicated patch somewhere in the house to keep your laptop, pencils, and notepads. Keep all your stuff in one place and it will be easier to reconnect with your project every day.

Favourite’s Shelf. Sometimes we forget why we started reading and writing in the first place. Make a shelf of just your favourite books—look at your list of Top 26 Books in Writers Write. They can be novels, non-fiction books, children’s books or books on writing. It doesn’t matter as long as they serve as a tangible reminder of a long-held dream.

Time Away. Once a week, take yourself out to a coffee shop, a bookshop with a reading nook or even a quiet park or garden. For at least an hour, immerse yourself in a reading or writing project—it could be free writing in your journal or catching up on a novel you’ve been dying to read. By immersing yourself in a quiet place and a single project, you will teach yourself to focus.

Creative Fuel. Every artist or writer needs support from other creative souls. They share our energy—and feed our creativity. Another writer understands the little triumphs and the major disappointments. You may want to join a writing club or circle, go to an author evening or book signing to meet other writers, or simply go for a coffee with another writer. The race is always easier when there’s a voice on the grandstand shouting your name.

by Anthony Ehlers for Writers Write

[olivewrites]

tonight a cat licked my head.

that is all.

[farmweather]

Stella and her doeling, Pickles.

[olivewrites]

goaties!

[olivewrites]

there's only one thing worse than a fuckwit - and that's a fucking fuckwit

I work with a bunch of fucking fuckwits - so I guess there is one thing worse than a fucking fuckwit and that's a flock of fucking fuckwits.

I work in advertising  - the worst - I work in advertising in new york - the pinnacle of the worst.

A bunch of people justifying their jobs with ridiculous strategies and reasons making their job infinitely more complex than it needs to be.

I work on the account side - the creative fuckwits think the account fuckwits are the fucking fuckwits- but lets be fair we all are - the account fuckwits, the creative fuckwits, the strategy fuckwits, the media fuckwits, the newest brand of fuckwits - community fuckwits, PR fuckwits and let's not forget the client fuckwits - just layers and layers and layers within layers of them - overpaid, self important fools spending days, hours, months and even years planning and strategising and creating advertising messages you are all likely to ignore. 

Just last week, me and my merry band of fuckwits embarked upon a four hour session to strategize about ideas we already had - to talk about how they "connected" - there was some weird "map" but "it really could be any shape we liked" so i'm very unsure of exactly what we were trying to achieve.. it was so bad it made me want to puke - literally I did - I walked out and puked - it could have also been that I had been out to 2am the night before - with another bunch of fuckwits drinking and singing Karaoke. But nevertheless it didn't help. So sat through the day as fuckwit after fuckwit got up and made strange gestures with their arms pointing at this and saying things like "the engagement of the user at this point A will be infinitely higher if we can all align on the messaging at point b" and "the internet is niche" and other absurd statements that just about always covers off the words "aligned" and "engagement". At the end of the session every fuckwit agreed that it had been a highly productive session (we didn't even draw the map - the key point of the day - and really it could be ANY shape we want) we all tapped each other on the shoulder and plastered insincere smiles across our faces - because really we all despise each other - each agency fuckwit hates the other agency fuckwit because we're all trying to steal each others budgets - and everyone hates the client fuckwit because they are just a pain in the arse who can't make a decision to save themselves and that's why we have to have these ridiculous sessions.

The following day - I open my email to find an invite from my fuckwit client for a 2 hr session to talk about the NEXT FUCKING STEPS to come out of that session..

oh brother.

[diversityinya]

By Malinda Lo

Lately I’ve been getting a lot of questions in email, twitter, and tumblr like this one:

“I can’t help but feel that as I white girl that it’s hard for me to write from the POV of a person of color. I realize that’s probably completely and utterly ridiculous, but I was...

[writeworld-blog]

I made this chart a while ago and it was brought to my attention that I deleted it from my Google Drive where it was accessible by the entire Interwebs. Thus, I’m sharing it again!

WRITEWORLD EDIT: This is awesome! Thank you! -C

[littledragon]

[olivewrites]

HOW?

[olivewrites]

a premonition from someone who doesn't really believe in those...

Do you ever find yourself slightly outside the world or situation you are in? You’re there but it’s like your brain has taken you to a place in the future. I have had this happen to me several times and I wanted to share the more recent moments.

  It happened while I was at work, I was at the water cooler – and suddenly my mind stopped and everything around me stopped – “you won’t be here for much longer” they weren’t words spoken to me they were just there hanging in the air – and so certain. It wasn’t a creepy, ghost feeling or something as insignificant as dejavu, but a true premonition. The moment lasted as long as it took me to fill my water bottle. But it was certain and it ended up being true.

  I don’t know how far between this premonition or experience it was but I a friend invited me to Amsterdam for her birthday – despite having just brought a house, I thought – fuck it and booked myself a three week trip to Europe, Amsterdam, London and then – Croatia, where I met you.

  The second time it happened – was in the car with you. We were sitting in traffic in Philadelphia, an Adele song came on the radio, I don’t particularly relate to her or her songs, but you said you liked it, whatever we don’t have to agree on everything. But whatever it was I felt this feeling again – it was stronger and lasted for longer than the water cooler experience and this time it said – this is forever. We continued our conversation as this out of body experience gripped me– not in a violent way – but still in way that was thrilling but at the same time peaceful but just as certain.

[olivewrites]

nothing but perfect

I had spent much of the day alone and packing, re-organizing and culling all that would and would not come with me on my 27 hr. flight across the world. I took a moment to sit on the front porch and while alone and crouching on that front doorway, sweaty, dirty and exhausted I had the perfect moment.

  The first thing I remember was that the air was a perfect temperature, so perfect I could feel nothing until the lightest breeze came and danced in the hairs on my arms and blew on the sweat on my face, I felt a pleasurable shiver on my lower back. I looked to the west and saw the most beautiful sunset – bright orange and the clouds swirled from white to light purple like lavender to a deeper purple. It seemed at that moment the whole world stood still, there were no neighborhood sounds or angry car noises, just a perfect stillness that seemed to be totally for my benefit. Perhaps that’s arrogant to say that I believed that the world stood still, served up this amazing sunset and then pitched the exact right temperature of air – but that’s what it truly felt like – maybe that’s not arrogant, perhaps that’s what feeling blessed feels like. Whatever it was it felt so … perfect. And I remember sitting there with my mouth wide open, in awe that this – which was nothing was happening right now.  

  I did not have an epiphany, I did not in that moment all of a sudden figure out who I was or what my plan was in life, I did not have a life changing conversation or experience with anyone else.  Absolutely nothing happened, but yet I remember that moment so vividly and even as I write about it now I can feel that shiver in my lower back and I can feel how perfect the air was and I remember so vividly the colors of the sky.

It was my perfect moment, which I will never forget.

[writingquotes-deactivated201509]

I like to write when I feel spiteful. It is like having a good sneeze.

D.H. Lawrence (via writingquotes)

[lilycostner]

MUSIC TO INFLUENCE YOU TO WRITE

Feel like you need a song to influence you to write a scene or character? Here are a list of Playlists and Songs you can listen to to get you going!

HAPPY BASED

When Everything is Wrong and you need a pick-me-up

a bunch of songs that make me Legit Happy!!

Carried Away

Stutter

 Some Days they Taste Like Lemonade

Picking Up the Pieces

Keep Your Head Up

It’s Time to Begin, isn’t it?

Endless Cheesin

Free Yourself

Undertone

SEX SCENES

lets do it (lets fall in love); a playlist for an old-fashioned love affair

Songs to fuck to

Between Two Points

Erotic Moments

 Nice and Slow

Breathe My Name

We Had a Promise Made

The Only Sex Playlist

Skin & Bones

A Forever Love

SAD SCENES/ HEARTBREAK

Hello My Old Heart

Shelter

See all my dreams die

We All Feel Lost Sometimes

Whispers Wasted in the Sand

Time to Study

One of those Sad Days

Sad Sad Songs

Goodnight Moon

When I Run Through the Deep Dark Forrest

PSYCHOPATHIC CHARACTER/SUSPENSE SCENE

[MADNESS;] | a playlist to get in the insane muse for your character

The Devil Within Digital Daggers

Villains and Demons

 Lose Your Soul

Savage Desires

I’ll Be Dead Before the Day is Done

A Killer’s Symphony

Murder He Says

A Boy’s Best Friend

In a Stranger’s Dream

BADASS CHARACTERS/ACTION-FIGHT SCENE

Not Your Regular Damsel in Distress

Biting Down

Light it Up

This is it, the Apocalypse

I Pretend I’m a Bad Ass

There is No Reconciliation

Shit to Fuck Shit Up to

Run

Let’s Go Hunting

Cancel the Apocalypse

Red Lipstick and a Black Jacket

INSTRUMENTAL/ CALM 

Breathe

The Light Shines Through

Dreamland

Floating

When in France

Sing Me to Sleep

Violin at the Movies

À la dérive

Home is where your heart it is

____________________________________________________

»»>FANMIXES

HANNIBAL

My Game my Rules

Wicked

The Devil is in the Details

The Pale Horse

Excellent Taste

Kill Run

Where is My Mind?

Psychosoma

Nothing Here is Vegetarian

Help

BBC SHERLOCK

An Absence of You

I Misbehave

Something Lonely in the Bone

I’m not a Psychopath… 

Thank You, Johann Sebastian Bach

Dying From These Exist Wounds

You Put the Devil in Me

Study and Investigate

Fist Kisses and Love Bites

Sorrow Waited Sorrow Won

SUPERNATURAL

Lost Boy

You the Moon

Taller Than God

A Very Supernatural Roadtrip

I Call This One “the Blue Steel”

Driver Picks the Music, Shotgun Shuts his Cakehole!

Bad Blood

An Angry Blade

Wow Just Smash Your Mouths Together

Fury is Coming

The Sacrifice

I’d love to add more (music and fandoms) but let’s just give you this for now! Happy Listening! 

ALSO: These (obviously) are not my fanmixes/playlists so give some props to the people who made it! They would love it! Also, if you see your playlist on here and would like it removed, tell me! Thank you!

[olivewrites]

my brooklyn shadows

  Scurrying away from my corporate job like the rat that I am – like the other rats like me – we scurry through the other people, the busy people, the crazy people, the arseholes, the lost and the broken – we head underground all scuttling toward our nests. I jump across the platform for the crazy C train – its old and decrepit body heaving as people cram in. It cracks and clacks as it races underground and sea. In the flickering light we all clutch our belongings and don’t dare look each other in the eye – applying extra effort to our non-gaze if there’s a desperate starving man looking for some change.

  Eventually I arrive at my destination – I emerge from the underground and am welcomed by a calming light and cars that don’t try to hit me as I cross the road.

  I walk the four blocks home in the company of the serene Brooklyn shadows – majestic trees with shadows so strong and perfect that when I first saw them I thought that they were paintings on the buildings.  I walked up to the building like a alien would approach a foreign object (but then I guess I am, an alien, that is) I put my hand in front of the shadow to try and unveil its deception, the shadow does not caste upon me – but stays on the wall (I only know it’s a shadow because it is not there when I walk by in the morning).

That would be a wondrous thought – thousands of elves coming out each night to paint glorious shadows on the buildings and then quickly painting over them again in the morning – all to play a practical joke on me – to turn me crazy (jokes on you elves).

  Wearily and heavily climbing up the stairs to my apartment my mind is dead blank. The key clicks my pointless lock and I swing the door open – to be welcomed by more shadows and only shadows.