You can’t Change People…so, What Can?

I think one of the technologies that have fascinated the human race the most is Cloning. Not the kind of cloning we have in top-notch labs around the world today where they use simple DNA to create a baby version of whatever animal they are trying to clone, but the sort of cloning that plagued Sci-Fi movies of the 80s and 90s where they place the star of the movie in a tube filled with water, and out comes a carbon copy of the star.

S1e7_clones_lined_up

 

 

 

Judging from my last post Chameleon Nature, you probably know that I am fascinated by the concept of change right now. The first thing anyone learns about change is, of course, its inevitability. As they say, “the only constant thing in this world is change.” But one of the other things I’ve learned about change is that you can’t change people. I think this is a hard reality many do not want to admit. We all want to see our friends dress like us, speak like us, love the kinds of movies we love, and so on. So, when we hear that we can’t change people, we get disappointed.

If we can’t change people, then what can? ‘Coz we all want those around us to change so we can finally stop trying to convince them that black coffee is more savory than milked. Or that the PS4 is a better game console than the X-box One. Here are two things I know that change people:

Environment

This is a primary factor especially when we are in our formative years. We are influenced by the people who are around us, the kind of schools we attend, and even the kind of programs we watch on TV. If we are raised among gorillas (like Tarzan), chances are we tree surf as a means of transportation (thank you, Disney, for selling us that impossible concept), and beat our chests like an ape, screaming “ah-ah-ah-ahhhh!” But if you are reading this blog, chances are you aren’t in your “formative years,” and that’s where the next change factor comes in…

Experiences

I normally disagree with this concept that the grass is greener at the other side of the fence (I’ll blog on that soon), but for contextual purposes I’m gonna use it here. Let’s assume that the saying is true. We know how comfortable we get in our comfort zones…until we have a brand new experience outside our comfort zone that proves our comfort zone was nothing but a boring zone. Personal testimony; I hated readers because they always buried their noses in those boring, text-filled pages, and found it difficult to speak a word to me when they were reading. As a result, I promised myself I would NEVER read…that was, of course, before I read Ted Dekker’s THR3E. And now I write.

You can’t people. But environments and experiences will. You have no control over these factors, but it’s good to know that under the right condition, that loved one—or hated one, depending—can, and will change.

@chosenmich


Chameleon Nature

Photo by: Chiswick Chap under Creative Commons License Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported

Photo by: Chiswick Chap under Creative Commons License Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported

 

The chameleon, to me, is one of the most fascinating creatures in existence. And while my lady followers do not think there can be anything fascinating about a scaly reptilian creature with weird eyes that could see all the way to its back or look in opposite directions (yikes), even they can’t help but be amazed, or at least intrigued, by the chameleon’s ability to change color, and or texture.

But hold on, ladies, before you leave, this blog post isn’t about Chameleons; it’s about CHANGE. I spent the better part of Sunday evening trying to figure out reasons why we change, and here’s what I found out; most people change because of another person.

So is there really anything wrong with wanting to change for another person? Well that would depend on a few things. You see, I’m up for change, but only if you are changing into the person that you really want to be. Spruce up your wardrobe, get a new hairdo after all these years, grow some muscles, grow a moustache, change your accent if you want to. There’s nothing wrong with Change as long as, at the end of the day, you are becoming the person you dream of being.

Where the problem is, is in changing because we want another person’s approval. Am I saying you won’t get the person’s approval even after you change because, as Economists put it, “Human wants are insatiable”? No…though that could happen, but that’s a blog post for another day. What I am saying is, changing the way you speak, eat, live, and, most popularly, talk misleads not only the person you wanna impress, but everyone that comes in contact with you. Not only would your friends (colleagues and acquaintances inclusive) think you’re faking coz they already know the real you, it greatly misleads the people that meet you for the first time. You will attract people who are attracted to the person you are becoming (or have already become if it’s too late), and when you get tired of faking (coz faking is as exhausting as driving from one end of the country to the other with manual transmission), the real you will come out, and the approval will fade away…and so will the friends you thought you made. Meanwhile, the friends that loved the original you are now in your past.

To change, or not to change? That is the question.

Change if and only if you are changing into the you of your dreams, or a better you. But stay the same if you are only looking for approval. The best approval is self approval, and if you approve of yourself, pretty soon someone who approves of you will come along.

@chosenmich


4 Ways to Spice Up your Writing

I have had an acoustic guitar for some four or five years now, but I never quite tried to learn playing it passed a few must-know chords. So this year, I got an electric, and decided to put my all into becoming a pro…somewhat.

I soon discovered something, however; there comes a point when you are learning to play the guitar, for most people, that you feel you aren’t growing anymore. You know there’s still so much to learn (coz you can’t play all your favourite songs yet), but you just aren’t learning anything. You’re essentially stuck.

It’s the same with most creative endeavours. Music, drawing, and of course, writing. I’ve been there one too many times with my writing, and every time I google “how to improve your writing”, the points ‘read’, and ‘write’, keep coming up—as if you didn’t know that already. With that mind, I have come up with 4 ways to spice up your writing if you’re in that boat.

1 Get used to using Idioms

Most wet-behind-the-ears writers do not use these. I am still trying to get used to using them. Idioms, in my definition, are creative ways of expressing simple ideas. For example, “wet behind the ears”, is nothing but a fanciful way of saying, ‘inexperienced.’ So get an idioms app, and get your idioms on.

2 Use Figures of Speech

Whether writing with alliterations, metaphors, or hyperbole, figures of speech prevent your writing from tasting like an unsalted meal. See what I did there? *wink wink* The King of Horror, Stephen King, is king in this aspect. So, pick up your primary (or elementary) school English notes, and relearn those speech figures.

3 Practice Perfecting your Poetry

I’m so not claiming to be good at this, but I have noticed that writers who are good at writing poetry write a mean fiction. Read a bit of Dean Koontz, and you’ll know what I’m saying. Having poetry in your arsenal helps your narration, and your description of scenes, weather etc. I should start a bit of poetry this year, but don’t quote me on that.

4 Play on Puns

I can’t talk about adding spice to our writing, without mentioning the use of puns; puns add an intelligent kind of flavor to your tone…pun most definitely intended. A pun is simply an intelligent play on words. The point of spice is to add flavor to your cooking, which is why I chose the expression, ‘flavor to your tone.’ Puns are great for adding humor and intelligence to your writing.

I particularly like this pun I found on Pun of the Day: “I’m glad I learned sign language; it’s pretty handy.” LOL.

Hope you spice up your writing with these four points.

@chosenmich


3 Boring but Effective Ways to Improve Your Writing

Sometime last year, I wrote a blog post titled “Weird and Unorthodox Ways to Improve Your Writing”, and, based on the feedback I got from you guys, it’s almost safe to say that was the best received blog post of mine last year. In an attempt to resurrect this epileptic blog of mine (other than changing designs), I’ve come up with a similar article to the 2013 favorite, this time highlighting some boring, but effective, ways to improve your writing. So, if you can get passed the critically boring activities, dive in to the following points and improve your writing:

  1. Watch the News: Need I say more? It’s fricking journalism. The main credential for studying journalism is a good English grade. Plus they probably know the news is boring, so they always come up with cool lines to sell it. I remember I first heard the term ‘skyrocket’ on the news, and even though that is a dated and abused term now, credit goes to the news companies for teaching me that.
  2. Read Academic Books/Journals: So, this one is pretty simple. Most writers are comfortable with reading as a way to improve their writing. However, we often settle in a comfort zone-like place, reading mainly fictions. The thing about Academic writings is, the author often drowns her readers with boring facts and information—this is what makes it boring. However, Academic books are written by intellectuals. Thus, the use of English in such text is almost unparalleled—this is what makes it so effective as a tool to improve one’s writing.
  3. Read the Mother of all Books: In this book, there are no characters, there are no stories, and there are certainly no plots. I’m talking about the Dictionary. Back in school, I must admit, reading the dictionary used to be one of my weird hobbies. Back then, there were no effective mobile dictionaries, so I didn’t have an app that could give me “word of the day.” Now, however, we do. But don’t stop at just assimilating the words you read in the dictionary, practise using them. And, really, every word used on the news, or in academic writings is in the dictionary, right? I guess this makes reading the dictionary the most boring, yet the most effective, way to improve your writing.

So, is it time to get bored? Getting bored might just mean getting better. ;)

 

MiCH OLORUNFEMi

@chosenmich


F.E.A.R

Check out Christ Infinity’s blog post on fear. Really insightful;

F.E.A.R.


To Fear or Not to Fear

That is the question. We’ve heard all sorts of bad things about fear; it’s crippling, it hinders, it halts progress etc. And all these things are true. Very true, at that. My question, though, is; if we know that fear cripples, hinders, halts progress etc, then why do we fear?

Here’s what I think about fear.

#1 Fear Gives Us Security

In itself, fear is insecurity. But in our insecurity, we often find security. Don’t be confused. What I’m saying is, take someone who is afraid of heights for example. Such person would most likely be afraid to stand at the balcony of the third floor of a building, or fly in an airplane. The solution? Remain on the ground. As long as the person stays away from high platforms, they are safe. Now take my fear of elevators for example. Because of this fear, I am compelled to find security (and fatigue) on the staircase.

#2 Fear Breeds Caution

In essence, there will be no “thinking twice” if it wasn’t for fear. Most times, I find that to think twice is to have a fear of failure. Without a healthy dose of fear, there would be no caution. We would take on challenges head on, without even foresight or anticipation. Chaos will ensue, and failure will abound. In order to prevent this, we fear.

But there’s a flipside.

#1 Fear Gives Us Insecurity

As mentioned above, fear is insecurity, and insecurity often affects anything from boldness to self esteem. Fear makes our endeavours arduous and laborious tasks. Instead of standing on a spot and ascending the floors of a multi storey building, we take the stairs and get a good muscle-hardening job on our legs—trust me, I know. A journey that should take 40 minutes by air, takes almost a day by road. It slows us down, if ever allowing us reach our goal or destination.

#2 Fear Breeds Paranoia

It’s more than caution, really. It’s an acute distrust. One so bad, that it doesn’t just make us “think twice” as I pointed out above, but think thrice, and keep on thinking, without ever acting. We keep on mulling, wishing, hoping we could achieve this impossible goal of ours, which frankly speaking, are only impossible because of fear.

Fear is a battle. Fear is a dilemma. One the one hand, it could feel like we are keeping safe, and being cautious by giving in to fear. But on the other hand, it could be that we are insecure and paranoid because we gave in to fear. So, which is it?

To fear, or not to fear? That is the question.

@chosenmich


Get Real?

Have you ever been told that in the past? When you have a varying opinion from another’s, and the person wants you to see things the way they do, they say, “get real.”

But have you ever thought about what this means? I just did, and then I got inspired to write my first post since the release of my latest novella, Eyes (see the Free Books page).

In a world where everyone has their own interpretation of reality, what is “real”? One man’s reality is nothing but fiction to his neighbor, and the neighbor’s reality is nothing but fiction to one man. This suggests to me that the statement, “get real”, seeks to make one unreal just so they could be won over to our own thoughts, our own reality. But if they first of all have to be made unreal, can we truly say they are “getting real?”

Let’s face it. Each person’s life is their own reality. And everyone’s reality differs from the other.

So if everyone’s reality differs, how can there ever be common ground?

That’s where the only force that overrides reality comes in; Truth.

You see, to any given situation there can only be one truth. It doesn’t matter if the truth is not visible; it remains truth. It doesn’t matter if the stubborn try to reject it; truth is truth, and will always be truth.

Hate it. But it’s true.

Dispute it. But it’s still true.

Even deny it. It yet remains true.

If this is true (pun most definitely intended), how about this; instead of trying to make others to, ‘get real’, how about we make them, ‘get true’?

@chosenmich


It Begins…EYES

Today marks history for Mich Olorunfemi fiction with the release of Eyes across various platforms as a free ebook. With the little hype I was able to generate on my own, I’m sure a few of us are eager to get a copy, but first, a little history about the book:

Eyes (the captivating and enthralling story of a detective named Ricky Platt) is actually the first story I came up with, but was not the first I released. Three years ago when I decided to try my hands on this craft called writing, this was the only story concept in my head. I began penning it down, and hit the sixth chapter. However, not being satisfied with it (it was my first, after all), I scrapped it totally and began working on another title Feral (which will make a comeback this year), and others that can be seen in the “Free Books” section of this blog. The book, though short it might seem, took me a whole year to rewrite. Now, I’m more than delighted to share this thrilling story with you.

Where to download a copy:

You can download various formats (including KINDLE and PDF) on Smashwords:

Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/401992

You can also snag a free copy off of the Apple iBookstore (not available in the Nigerian store, sadly):

(Available in 48 other countries)

If you have the Barnes and Noble nook, or nook app, you can get it at Barnes and Noble:

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/eyes-mich-olorunfemi/1118114506?ean=9781304763709

Sign in, or Sign up to Lulu to get it from the Lulu Bookstore:

Lulu: http://www.lulu.com/content/e-book/eyes/14345104

The wait is over! Click, download, take the plunge, be thrilled. And be redeemed!

Ricky Platt has never lost case, now he’s about to lose his life.

EYES Covermediumsmall(blog)


Eyes Chapter 1…Coming 01.27.14

It’s been a great, long while since I posted anything into my stories category, and after almost two years of not doing so, I’m honored and privileged (in light of my new novella’s Monday 27th’s release) to share with you all, Chapter one of Eyes. Read it, and anticipate.
MiCH


Eyes…Chapter One

DETECTIVE Ricky woke up with a start, shirt sodden with sweat as he took in long, heavy breaths. Was that a nightmare? Maybe, but he had no recollection he was even dreaming. His wife Vivian always knew when he was having a nightmare, and she was always ready to tell him it was alright. But not tonight.
Ricky looked at his wife’s side of the bed, but she wasn’t there. Probably went for some water. Ricky thought. 4:15am shone in big green digital writings on the clock that sat on the nightstand. It was still dark.
Ricky put on the lamp. The room lit up with a golden-yellow hue. That was when Ricky saw it.
“Blood? Is that blood?” Ricky whispered to himself, as though he was being monitored. He flung the blanket off the bed. There was more, more blood. “Oh God.”
He flew out of the bed and fell to the floor, crawling as far away from the bed as possible on his rear, supported by his hands. He hit the wall next to the door then he tried to calm himself. I’ve seen blood on a countless number of occasions. He told himself.
But not my wife’s blood. A conflicting voice said.
Ricky opened the bedroom door, he ran for the kitchen screaming his wife’s name. “Vivian! Vivian!” He ran past his daughter’s door. Through the hall, through the dark living room, and into the kitchen. It was bare. His heart pumped blood up his neck, more from fear than from the running. Then he realized he ran past his daughter’s room.
“Nicky!” He ran back. Threw the door open. Her bed was empty, but her pillow and blanket were still in place. With the flip of a switch the room was illuminated. He angled for Nicky’s bed, and took a hold of her pink fluffy blanket. Neither the color nor the flowery designs made this any better. He froze in his steps.
“What am I doing? I have to call the office.” Don’t want to contaminate the scene before they arrive. Was this right? His wife and daughter were missing, possibly even killed and he was still thinking like a detective. But thinking like a detective would let him know what was going on.
He headed back to his room. Taking his cell off the nightstand, he dialed the Armston Police emergency phone number. Stay calm, Ricky. Stay calm. His head swam. Stay calm. The more he tried to control himself, the worse his condition became. He began to fill a slight chill wrap around his body. His fingers failed to dial the station’s number at the first try, they were shaking. He got it on his second try and pressed the cell hard on his ear, pulse racing.
An officer picked up on the first ring. “Armston Police emergency service. What’s your emergency?”
“Eh…this is Detective Ricky— ”
“Ricky, what’s the situation?”
“I…I…I think my wife and daughter have been…kidnapped.” Telling the officer on the other end of the phone that he suspected they were dead just didn’t seem right. After all, there were no bodies to prove it. But there was a whole lot of blood in his bed. Too much, for just a little struggle to cause.
“Hold on, Ricky. A unit will be dispatched to your location ASAP.”
Click!
The line went dead and Ricky’s hand went limp. The cell clattered to the floor. Ricky left the room and sat on a couch in the living room. He was too disoriented to realize that the lights were still off. He chose not to stay in the room as a means of controlling his curious nature. He needed the scene as clean as possible by the time the police got there.
His hands trembled in his weltered brown hair. His breaths were now drawn in short bursts.
Who was responsible? All the criminal cases Ricky had taken had ended with the perpetrator behind bars. All forty, and counting. Unless this was someone with ties to one of the criminals. He had put nothing less than twenty killers behind bars within the first forty-eight hours of their killings.
Vivian…Nicky. He wasn’t even sure if there was any blood in Nicky’s bed. He couldn’t be sure, not until the police arrived.
The four minutes, thirty-two seconds it took for the police to arrive—and Ricky timed it—was the longest wait Ricky had ever endured. But now he could hear sirens approaching. They were still at a distance, from the sound of it, but at least they were coming.
Oh no! Sirens. Surely the neighbors would be woken from sleep. Everybody will want to know what was going down at the friendly Platt residence. He walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain a little. The street lit up in red and blue. The sirens blared, cutting through the night. The light of a house at the end of the street came on. Then a second closer to his.
He spotted two Armston Police cruisers before he let the curtain fall.
The tires of the two cruisers squealed as they came to a halt at Ricky’s house. Three uniformed officers emerged and approached the family sized house through the driveway. Ricky didn’t wait for a knock on the door before he had it opened.
“Ricky! Hear you’ve got an emergency of some sort.” Officer Chris Baines said, adjusting his belt. The other two officers stood on either side of Baines. Another officer stood casually by one of the cruisers, he wouldn’t be coming in.
“This way.” Ricky let the three officers in.
They all angled into the hall when Baines said, “What exactly happened?” He was studying the house.
“I..eh, I woke up after I had a nightmare, I think, and Vivian was gone. She just wasn’t in bed. I thought she went for a drink of water or something, I turned on the lights,” he opened the door to his room, “that’s when I saw this.”
Baines walked in, eyes fixated on the bed. The ruffled blanket lay on the floor. He walked behind the bed all the while keeping a fixed gaze on the pool of blood now soaking the white sheets. “Hmm. What time did you wake up?”
“Four fifteen,” Ricky answered.
“And your daughter?”
“She’s missing as well. Don’t know if there’s any blood on her sheets.”
Baines stood. “Murphy, take some shots please.” It sounded like a question.
Officer Dan Murphy fiddled with the camera, before it clicked and the room went white for half a second. A few more clicks from every possible angle was enough for Baines.
“Doesn’t look like there was much of a struggle.” Baines said.
“Doesn’t look like there was any struggle.” Ricky’s voice was a little above a whisper. His heart was still pounding away.
“Let’s see your daughter’s room.” Baines headed for the door, and so did everyone else.
Nicky’s door creaked open, as Ricky walked into the room. The officers were directly behind. This was what Ricky had been waiting for. He would find out if Nicky was harmed as well.
Baines looked around the room. Everything was neatly packaged. A really large and brown teddy bear sat on a short bureau. The pink and blue striped wallpaper matched it in a unique manner. Nicky’s flip-flops lay at the foot of the bed undisturbed. Everything seemed to be in place. A little too in place.
A tear broke loose from Ricky’s eye. The bright colors, the blue teddy, the fluffy flip-flops. None of these items brought him joy—instead they did just the opposite.
Baines edged for Nicky’s bed. Ricky watched.
“Murphy, do your stuff before I proceed.”
Some five snaps shots from a good range of angles was all Baines needed. He went a bit low, placed his hand on the pink fluffy bed spread with caution, like it was rigged with a bomb or something, and dragged it off, letting it fall to the ground.
It was as Ricky suspected. Blood. And much of it. The stain on Nicky’s bed made Ricky’s body, quiver. “No…No. She was just a child…she…”
“Pull yourself together Ricky, we still don’t know if they were killed. As long as we haven’t seen any bodies yet there’s no proof of death.”
“Sir,” Officer Ed Milner was pointing to the floor.
“What is it?” Baines turned to face Milner.
For a moment the quiver in Ricky’s body totally ceased. He was in anticipation. He was ready for anything that might give him a clue to what the heck was going on.
Milner prodded. “You really have got to see this.”
Baines walked up to Milner’s side. There was a white piece of paper on the floor. Writings had been scribbled on it in red lettering. Baines pulled out a pair of surgical gloves and put them on before squatting and picking the paper from the bedroom floor. His face spaced out in horror.
“What’s the matter?” Ricky asked, but Baines didn’t give Ricky a reply. So Ricky inched bit by bit toward him, his eyes fixed on the white piece of paper, and only now did he notice the red markings. He could see it now, very clearly. He could read it.
It read simply and succinctly:
Enjoy the rest of the Journey.
Cutter
Ricky felt sweat begin to exude from all over his body. His head began to swim. Journey? What Journey? Should he be preparing for more of this? Evidently. That’s what Cutter was saying. And who is this Cutter? All these questions barraged Ricky’s mind at once like a meteor shower, but he had no answer to any one of them.
What Cutter didn’t say was whether he had custody of his wife and his daughter. Did he want to keep him guessing? Did he want him trying to maintain some kind of hope, when the very thing he was hoping for wasn’t in existence anymore? But one question cried out in a higher decibel than any of the others; what was going on?
Ricky’s journey was truly just beginning and Officer Baines was just about to prove that. Unintentionally though.
Ricky watched Baines flip the card to the other side. He probably wanted to see if there was anymore detail that could prove vital to the whereabouts of Ricky’s wife, and Ricky’s daughter, maybe even this Cutter himself. He flipped the card back with such swift hand motion.
“Hold on, what was that?” Ricky tried to confirm. He thought he saw a picture.
“Eh…it’s nothing. Milner, get this to the lab. Have it tested for finger prints.” Baines held the card out to officer Milner.
“No! I wanna see that.” Ricky was quick enough to get to the card before Milner could receive it from Officer Baines.
Baines cursed.
Ricky flipped it over to see exactly what it was that Baines didn’t want him to see. His heart skipped a few beats. His hands began to tremble again. His lips dropped open, unconsciously. They quivered in their open state before he let the picture fall to the ground.
“Ricky…” Baines was trying to be comforting, but surely he knew there was no amount of words that would do any comforting now.
Ricky stared at the picture which was now on the floor. It was a picture of Vivian and Nicky. Dead. Lying down on what looked like a concrete surface on their left side. Both had their throats slashed. The word ‘Cutter’ was brutally etched on their right cheek. They might have been dead but they looked anything but at peace.
Ricky went week at the knees. His right leg began to fail him and he began to drop to the floor.
“Whoa!” Milner was on hand to catch him. He led him to a small chest Nicky used to store her toys and made him sit.
Ricky stared on, to a great beyond. To nothingness. He seemed not to see the others in the room anymore. The trembles in his hands had spread to his entire body now. He couldn’t even try to contain it. It was useless.
Baines walked up to Ricky and gave his cheek a couple of gentle taps. Then placed his hands on his shoulder and rocked him gently. “Ricky! Ricky! We need you to be strong, okay? For them. For Vivian and Nicky. Can you do that?” Ricky raised his head and their eyes met. “Can you do that?” He repeated.
Ricky managed to nod his head. Slowly. But at least that showed him he still had control of himself.
“Gimme a minute.” Baines said before walking away from Ricky to join his partners.
Ricky watched him join the other officers at a corner of Nicky’s room. Nicky’s room. Ricky would have never thought his six year old daughter’s room would one day be a crime scene. He shuddered. This was too much. Much too much.
After a series of nods, belt adjustments, and off-shoulder glances at Ricky, Baines approached him again. Ricky knew what he was going to request. He was a detective, he had done this on scores of occasions.
“I know this is hard for you,” Baines started. Ricky already knew where he was going. He continued, “but this is one case Chief Delay would want to look into.”
They wanted him to be at the station. Chief Delay would definitely interview at the station.
“If you think you can handle —”
“I’ll be there.” A succinct response from a despondent Ricky. His wife and daughter—whom he loved more than life itself—had just been brutally murdered. He would do anything to make sure this Cutter guy was caught before he thought he had the advantage over him.
A killer with so much skill, who was able to sneak into the house of a detective, kill his daughter, and kill his wife whilst she lay next to him as he slept wasn’t one to present a weak character to. He had to look strong. He had to be strong. For their sake.


Weird and Unorthodox Ways to Improve Your Writing

Since I already wished you all Happy New year before taking a break, we’re jumping right in this year. I do hope the holidays were kind to you though.

There is a constant question that begs an answer on the minds of upcoming writers, of which I still see myself as, and that is, “How can I improve my writing?”

What I have noticed is that there are some pretty unorthodox ways to achieve this. Believe me, the activities outlined below are nearly full-proof, but they are so unorthodox you just might drop your jaw at them. Here they are:

  1. Chatting: Make no mistake about it, run at the chance to chat over the chance to speak over the phone if you really want to improve your writing. Chatting gives you the chance to creatively put your words together, and because you are writing (not speaking), improves your writing.
  2. Watch Cartoons: This one is difficult for adults to even so much as consider. In truth, Cartoons have some of the most creatively constructed dialogs, and wackiest conflicts on the planet. Thus, watching them could really broaden your mind.
  3. Mentally write what you see: Go out. Sit at a bench on the sidewalk, and mentally write in prosaic format, whatever happens before your eyes. This exercises your mind to getting used to the writing process.
  4. Listen to music: Music is also an art that seeks to send a message to listeners. The thing about music is; musicians try to tell a story in all of approximately four minutes. This makes them push the creativity of their words (lyrics), making for some pretty unique lines that could be really inspiring.
  5. Watch commercials: It’s really the same as music, but because a commercial is limited to a time frame of thirty seconds, adverts are even more creative than most music videos. A commercial seeks to tell you, “you can’t  do without this product or service you have been living without”, and make you believe it. Thus watching commercials can be highly inspiring.

Try these steps out, and let’s see that improvement.

@chosenmich


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