Being a Freelance Writer: The Freedom in Freelance Writing

There is a lot of freedom in freelance writing! Being, or becoming a freelance writer may appear to be a luxury that only a few can afford, as it can be like any other kind of self employment, relatively ludicrous initially, at least as far as potential income is concerned.

What is freelance writing all about?

Many people go through life wishing for the opportunity to do what they want to do, and one of their aspirations may be to write. Life experiences are often such that these people do have something worthwhile to write about, and there are potentially those who would like to read what they write. For anyone seriously contemplating becoming a freelance writer, the readership field is wide open. Its scope is as unlimited as the potential freelance writer's imagination.

Developing freelance writing skills comes naturally to some, but not necessarily to others. Any freelance writer can write reams, but there is no guarantee that this work will be purchased. In other words, the market for it has to be located. There is no doubt about there being an actual market out there for the work of freelance writers, as it does exist. Some freelance writers are lucky and tap into a viable market immediately. For others, it takes time to find the best place to promote and publish one's work.

Being a freelance writer does have its advantages, because there is the opportunity to build a vast repertoire of writing, in a wide variety of genres. The freelance writer has the freedom to choose what he or she writes about and the format it takes, as well as whether or not, it is published. Not bound by continual employer obligation, or being hired as an employee, he or she is able to follow his or her own interests with respect to writing whatever, or whenever. Working hours are distinctly his or her own, unless he or she chooses to accept assignments with specific deadlines that must be met to be paid.

The initial task of the freelancer is that of learning how to write and submit manuscripts that are suitable for publication. That may involve taking courses in writing and editing, developing computer website and content publication skills, as well as learning how to market one's own work. Most freelance writers are writers, not marketers. Initially, many freelance writers set up their own websites or blogs. 

Learning professional marketing skills increases one's likelihood of being able to profit financially from freelance writing. Other viable options may include finding a specific agent who is able to do carry out that task. An established website may seek content from freelance writers, or a book publisher may be looking for specific kinds of manuscripts, as well.

Freelance writing is a continual process that meets the freelancer's basic need to write, in accordance with the inspiration of his or her muse, thoughts and ideas and potential career plans. No two freelancers have exactly the same kinds of aspirations; nor do they need to have. Freedom of literary expression is invariably the key to freelance writing.

Crazy as a Bedbug: Peeps and the Homeless Woman

"I love all these peeps," Lisa, a student nurse, tweeted to her friend, Dorica."

"Unlike some people, she's as crazy as a bedbug!"

"We don't know that!"

"She just sits in the park all day, never talks to anyone but herself, and looks like she has never washed her hair," replied Dorica.

"Maybe the woman just needs a friend?"

"Then, you can be her friend. I am far too busy!"

Lisa had a heart for people and so after their conversation, she decided to try to befriend the homeless woman.

The next day, Lisa approached her cautiously, and politely asked if she could sit down on the park bench, too. The surprised woman nodded her consent, moved her huge, tote bag closer, like a protective barrier, but remained silent.

Shortly thereafter, Lisa offered the woman a cup of hot coffee from her thermos and some warm biscuits. She tried to make casual conversation with her.

"Sh, listen and you will hear the peeps!" the elderly, bedraggled woman finally said to her, without looking up.

Lisa listened carefully, but could not hear anything.

The next day, Lisa went back again, sat down on the park bench and handed the woman another cup of fresh coffee. The woman accepted it graciously, saying, "Thanks."

Lisa decided to visit her every day, as she was obviously alone and needed a friend.

"Peep, peep!" the woman said excitedly, the next morning, pointing at a solitary robin, pulling worms out of the ground. "There is a nest with baby birds over there."

It took about a week before Matilda, the elderly woman, would talk to her, at any length. She was a widow, who lived in the homeless shelter down the street. She had to leave the shelter during the day and returned every night. The park was the only place where she wanted to go, because the birds were her friends, her only friends.

"Peep, peep," tweeted Lisa to Dorica. "I have a new friend who loves robins." 

"You befriended her?"

"Yes, I have a heart for people. Want to meet Matilda?"

"I am not really a people person, but maybe, just this once."

"You can see the baby robins."

"Maybe I could bring some bird seed!"

"Then, you would have a friend for life!"

Love, Caffeine Addiction or Something Else?

What is really happening when the focus in a relationship shifts to coffee shops? 

Something may be amiss! Over time, there are just too many cups of coffee at the coffee shop, for this to be regarded as a simple happenstance.

"Is this a coffee addiction, or is there something else going on?" a curious woman asks the waitress in a coffee shop, with respect to her spouse, who virtually lives for his coffee. "Is that man really in love with me?"

"I don't know," she replies. The waitress is far too busy serving coffee to customers in the coffee shop to answer all of their questions. Sometimes, silence states the unstated.

"Let's go to the coffee shop," her spouse says, repeatedly.

"Yes, dear," is her typical response.

This phenomenon is re-occurring over and over again, all around the world. And thus, the wife in question begins to wonder what is really going on.

"Should I be concerned?" she asks herself, as she quietly sips on her coffee while seated across from, or beside her spouse. She knows that coffee has always been potentially addictive in nature and that recently, it has become even more so over the last few decades, with a dramatic increase in the number of thriving coffee shops.

She also knows that almost everyone loves having a good cup of coffee, but that does not necessarily mean 'coffee shop' coffee. Many loyal and dedicated spouses love waking up to a hot cup of coffee, or enjoy one at mid-morning in their own homes with their spouses, other family members or close friends. Others simply like to start a day at work with a good cup of hot coffee, or have a mid-morning break with a cup of coffee accompanied by a fresh bagel, hot out of the oven. Donuts and coffee go well together too, many will attest.

Does it always have to be coffee at the coffee shop?

There is a certain degree of ambience in most coffee shop settings, where hundreds of people enjoy drinking coffee alone and with others, or spending quality time with someone special like a spouse or a friend. It does not seem to matter whether they are drinking regular coffee, a chocolate latte, or other unique coffees like those made from freshly ground, Jamaican coffee beans. Different nationalities enjoy culturally specific coffee like Italian espressos, or other exotic specialty coffees, all of the time.

Sharing something as simple as a cup of coffee with others in general, is one step towards building strong, positive relationships. Many potential marital relationships begin when two people share coffee and swap their unique life stories.

Coffee is still relatively affordable as a social luxury that the majority of spouses can enjoy together. But, when coffee shops have to be visited at odd times of the day or night, repeatedly, any spouse may start to wonder about his or her significant other.

"What is my spouse really stating by going to the coffee shop for coffee, all of the time?"

"I love coffee and my spouse, but is he otherwise engaged?"

"Maybe this has something to do with business?"

Checking up on a spouse at the coffee shop now and then, might be a good idea.

"I will just have to have a coffee with my spouse today," might help to rescue a potentially disastrous marriage, but then maybe not.

Addiction is addiction. Love is love and something else may be anything other.

Understanding Dementia

Dementia symptoms, and the risk associated with it can vary, depending upon the part of the brain that is affected. Thus, lowering the risks associated with dementia is problematic to some extent, depending upon whether it is cortical dementia or sub-cortical.

How are the two different?

Cortical dementia has to do with memory loss and aphasia, whereas sub-cortical dementia has to do with slow thinking and the inability to initiate activities. Memory loss is generally associated with Alzheimer's disease where short term memory is affected in varying degrees. Aphasia or the inability to speak is associated with stroke activity. Slow thinking is perceived as being a mental disability. The inability to initiate activities is related to personality or more specifically, being an extrovert or an introvert.

In other words, all four of these are realms with which we are relatively familiar. Thus, lowering dementia risk is possible, at least to some extent, when one is aware of the kind of dementia that is evident.

Note that dementia has been regarded in many different ways over the years including insanity, senility, madness, lunacy or being mentally deranged. Part of the problem with lowering dementia risk, has to do with degree of severity of symptoms. This can vary considerably from patient to patient. Dementia is a progressive brain disease. In other words, over time, the symptoms are likely to increase in severity. This must also be taken into consideration when it comes to risk assessment.

Patient safety is of primary importance with respect to lowering dementia risks and must be considered in terms of memory loss and aphasia, as well as slow thinking and the inability to initiate activities. For example, a patient with memory loss may need to be continually reminded of different aspects of his or her own personal care in order to stay healthy. A patient with aphasia may need to learn another way to communicate his or her needs. A patient who has slow thinking processes may need continual stimulation. A patient who is not able to initiate activities may need ongoing encouragement or added incentive in that realm of life.

Health wise, dietary management and exercise can improve both brain and heart function, reducing dementia risks. Other treatment options may include vitamin or hormone therapy. Drug and alcohol supervision may be indicated. Treating disease processes appropriately in situations where there is Alzheimer's disease or Parkinson's disease may also help to reduce dementia risks.

The Good Old Days

People often take pride and find joy basking in the light of self-disclosure. For some though, that is not the case, as in the life of Brett, a retired senior, who preferred to live his life in the shade of anonymity.

"I did fall in love a few times," he confided in me one day, when I asked him casually if he had ever gotten married. "I remember being in love with Millie, who had long, curly auburn hair. She was a beautiful, young woman who loved to dance, but she was far too wild for me. We had some good times together, but she ran away with an orchestra leader who serenaded her with his cello."

The tears welled up in his eyes. I turned my head, so as not to embarrass him. He stayed silent for a long time, obviously deep in thought. Finally, he pulled out his handkerchief, blew his nose and smiled at me. I could see the twinkle return to his eyes.

"Ah, those were the good old days," he continued. "I don't usually talk a lot about my lady friends of the past, as sometimes people try to read too much into it."

"You don't have to tell me anything," I said to him, quietly. "You can tell me if you want to though, and I will listen."

"I have never really been a recluse at heart, just lived like one, most of the time. There was a gorgeous, blonde, young filly named Bernadette, who I simply adored. She was everything that a man could have possibly wanted in a wife, but she was already married, unhappily at that. We used to sit in the cafe for hours talking about everything under the sun, our lives, all of our hopes and dreams too, but at the end of her shift, she always had to go home to Herman."

"There were a lot of other, single girls in the town," I commented, cautiously.

"Yes, but It was always easier to talk to someone who was safely married," Brett confided in me, quietly. "Anyhow, I preferred staying in the shade to becoming the object of town gossip. That happened all of the time, and the boys involved always had the devil to pay for their antics, when they became public knowledge."

"I understand that, too," I suggested. I could see he was ready to tell me more, but was hemming and hawing, so I simply waited.

"The love of my life was actually Caroline, a young school teacher, who I first met in southern Alabama. She was fun to be with, and had more, little children around her than anyone else in the whole town. She loved them with a passion and they loved her. It was always difficult to get anywhere close to Caroline though, but I did succeed a few times. She would blush and turn as red as a beet, when she thought I was trying to court her in front of the children. They loved it and teased us something fierce."

"So what ever happened to her?" I asked, becoming more and more curious, as he spoke. "You said she was the love of your life."

"Well, I went to the corner store one day and bought her a valentine, red roses and chocolates, but I was far too shy to do anything except place them on her desk, before she came to school on Valentine's Day. She was so delighted, but I do not think she ever found out who they were from, and I was not about to tell her. Even the children did not know that they were from me, although they suspected that I was the guilty party."

"So nothing came from that Valentine's Day romance either?"

"When I think about it now, I was only fourteen years old then, and she must have been at least eighteen. I imagined her as becoming the mother of the children that I never had.  She taught for only a year at our one room school, and then accepted a position at a girl's school, somewhere in the north. Maybe I scared her away, as I never did hear anything from her, but I remember those good old days so vividly."

"It sounds like good memories too."

"Yes, they were. Say, it is getting hot in here. Maybe we should go outside and sit in the shade."

Another New Year

Another New Year loomed overhead and then perched on the edge of Father Time's vast horizon, like a powerful eagle waiting to swoop down on its most vulnerable prey.

Father Time had been expecting him and spotted him immediately, when he arrived on the doorstep. He could see that this New Year was expecting to be welcomed like a prodigal son coming home, and also anticipated being allowed full access to the current tides of time.

"Why should I let you in?" Father Time asked him sternly, momentarily blocking the entrance to the tides of time, much to his dismay.

"What have your predecessors ever contributed to humanity? Have they proclaimed love, manifested its true expression, or merely perpetrated pseudo-love?"

"But I am a brand new year blossoming like a rose bud, filled with fresh potential," the New Year argued. "You cannot deny me access to the tides of time. That is my place in history, my rightful inheritance."

"The New Years, as well as the tides, all come and go," replied Father Time. "You too, will come and go, as that is your fate. To date, your predecessors have merely magnified and multiplied the woes of this world. Why should I allow this phenomenon to continue throughout the rest of history? Would it not be wiser for all of the New Years to be stopped in their tracks?"

The New Year could not believe Father Time's word.

"But I would not be given birth," argued the New Year. "I would die before I am even born, and so would all of the New Years destined to follow in my footsteps."

"Maybe then the problems of man would finally cease?"

"But you have to give me a chance," argued the New Year, tearfully. "That is only fair."

The midnight hour was approaching quickly, and he knew fear for the first time.

"Fortunately for you and all of the other New Years, I have a loving, forgiving Spirit," said Father Time, gently. "But consider yourself warned!"

At the stroke of midnight, Father Time opened the door, allowing the new New Year to be born, but also simultaneously unleashing the tides of time afresh, knowing that this New Year would fulfill his own destiny, just like all of the others.
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The Almost Lost Hat

A weekend honeymoon across the border seemed perfect for the young newlyweds, who were looking forward to starting their new life together. It also meant that both of them could be back at work on Monday morning, bright and early.

Their weekend reservations for a downtown city hotel had been confirmed. It was just a matter of finding the hotel in a large, hilly city that was totally foreign to both of them.

It was actually a gorgeous day, with gusts of wind tossing brightly colored leaves everywhere, as they pulled into the downtown hotel parking lot. The hotel itself was huge and almost foreboding, other than for its architectural elegance. There was not a soul in sight other than the friendly, parking lot attendant at the gate, who assured them that their vehicle would be safe in the parking lot.

It was extremely windy, as they got out of their car and gazed upwards at the building. It had been a very long drive. 

Being self conscious, the newly weds gazed at each other shyly, but lovingly. The new bride smoothed out the wrinkles in her going-away outfit which was a beautiful, soft, turquoise wool suit, ideal for an early, October wedding. The groom did the same thing with his jacket.

"Let's do this!" suggested the happy, young bride, sensing embarrassment not uncommon to newly weds. "After we get checked into our room, we can explore the city and have a romantic dinner."

"Sounds good to me," the groom replied. "I will get our suitcase." As he opened the trunk of their car and pulled out their suitcase, there was a tremendous gust of wind, then another and another.

"They said this was a windy city," he  commented with a grin, trying to close the trunk of the car. As he placed the suitcase on the ground, the wind knocked it over and the lock popped open. The entire contents of the suitcase spilled out and were scattered in every direction. The newly weds quickly scurried after them.

"Whew!" said the young groom, as he hurriedly stuffed everything back inside the suitcase and locked it, not realizing that the young bride still had her turquoise, feathered pillbox hat in her hands.

"My hat!" she exclaimed, as the wind caught it. The pillbox hat rolled across the parking lot, and she chased after it. When she finally caught it, she promptly plunked it on her head.

"You can't wear that!" her new husband exclaimed laughingly, suddenly aware that the parking lot attendant was watching them, and smiling. "Everyone will think that we are newlyweds!"

"We are!" replied his new wife. "I am goring to wear it and am not carrying it into the hotel!"

"You almost had a lost hat," said the parking lot attendant, with a grin. "Congratulations, newlyweds!"