#Today I have learnt just how much I appreciate the block-button.

[lemotmo]

Hey everyone!

Okay, here's the run down of what happened. I figured out (thanks to a mutual) that one of the anon OP's posts was posted on Twitter and they linked my Tumblr account to it. They did it to be polite as they just wanted to cite the source of the post, but that attracted some unwanted visitors to my blog and my ask box.

I asked the Twitter accounts to remove the link to my blog, so people wouldn't follow it here. They very graciously removed it and I can already see a huge difference in my ask box. So that's good.

I'm also going to add a big disclaimer to each OP post in the future, telling people to not post my things on Twitter. Twitter is very different from Tumblr in so many ways. I just like it better here.

I wanted to say thank you to all the people that sent me those kind messages through my ask box and in my DMs. I was a bit overwhelmed by all the love you sent me. I won't reply to each message in my ask box seperately, but know that I read it all and that it is really appreciated.

I've also gotten a few asks reacting to the post that I made this morning about both fandoms. I'm not going to respond to those posts right now, because I fear it might stir up some things again and everything is just settling down right now. Maybe I'll get back to those posts some day, but not any time soon.

To the anon that sent me an ask with a question about a specific detail the anon OP talked about in her posts: I can't answer it. I am not the one writing those posts, so I don't have all the details.

The Nonnies that so kindly sent me the anon OP's messages, sent me a message earlier whether or not I still wanted to continue posting. I told them 'yes, of course.' I will keep posting the anon OP asks, because they are very interesting to get some insight into the intricacies of a fandom's inner workings and just overall to understand how these TV-shows work.

That's the whole reason why I post these asks in the first place. They are interesting posts. Most of the time I agree with them, but once in a while I disagree with the OP. And that's okay too. Having an opinion and talking about it is okay.

Now, that being said, I am taking a little break from posting the OP's messages for a few days to get my inner balance back and hopefully some of these people will forget I exist and leave my ask box alone. I blocked all of them, so it should be okay.

But right now I'm quite angry and I need to cool down for a while. Don't worry, I won't be too long. In the mean time I will just keep on answering asks and posting fandom things.

When things have cooled down a little, I will resume posting the OP's posts. Sorry that you might have to wait for a few days. Won't be too long. I promise.

Now let's get back to fandom business. :) I can't wait for the cast to start posting their bts shenanigans again. I'm so ready for some new content. Also, that Ryan podcast that is coming up? I'm very curious what that is going to be about. Does anyone know when that podcast is supposed to drop?

[puppetsoftomorrow]

the avalance news reader au

hey who said peer pressure doesn't work. anyway i made this post and y'all seemed to like it so here we go!! might post to ao3 later on idk...

It had been a truly terrible day.

Ava considered, in the moment that her coffee machine spluttered coughed up coffee grounds over her last clean shirt, that maybe she'd just had a truly terrible year. All her dreams about finally moving to television after being stuck in the doldrums of local news media for six years had been slashed when she'd been placed on the graveyard shift - sure, Ava was finally reading the news, but her shift was from 1AM until 4AM, so her only audience was long-distance truck drivers and new parents.

Still, she persevered, with the slightly foolish belief that if she worked hard enough, she could be promoted to a primetime slot. Or at least a slot that didn't require her to be making coffee at 10:45PM.

Her day had started off badly - she'd barely slept, as the sound from the construction work three blocks away rattled her windows, and she’d woken to find that her cat, Merlin, had kicked his litter halfway across the house in a fit of pique. Ava couldn't even have her normal oatmeal, as she was out of oat milk, and now she was having to drink her coffee black.

After changing her shirt to a dark dress and grimacing as she choked down the coffee, there was a knock on the door, and Ava groaned as she realised she was running late.

"Hey, Sara." She sighed.

Sara stood in the doorway, hair wavy over her shoulders, hands shoved in the pockets of her hoodie - the same grey hoodie she wore every day, branded with their news station's logo.

"Woah, a dress?" Sara said, eyebrows raised appreciatively, as Ava grabbed her coat and bag and they moved to go down the stairs.

"Don't mention it." Ava grumbled, pulling the coat around her shoulders.

"It looks good on you." Sara said, and Ava shot her a look. Sara mimed zipping her lips. "Do we have to time for Starbucks? I had to have black coffee; my mouth tastes like something died in it." Ava muttered, and Sara shrugged.

"I mean, we've arrived half an hour early for every shift for the past year -"

"Do you want to go back to taking the bus?" Ava said, looking over at her as they reached the lobby. They'd discovered they lived in the same building almost accidentally in Ava's first week, awkwardly meeting across the hall in the early morning, until Sara had realised that Ava had a car and they'd started riding in together.

"Fine, if you're happy with having bad angles." Sara said, holding the door open for her, and Ava rolled her eyes.

"Are you saying I have bad angles?"

"Oh, I'll find one." Sara muttered, and Ava snorted with laughter and unlocked the car. One of the benefits to giving her camera operator a ride every day was always having excellent angles.

After a stop at Starbucks, Ava rolled along the dark, quiet roads, sighing deeply.

"What's up?" Sara asked, sipping her drink - black coffee, which she somehow enjoyed.

"Nothing." Ava muttered, but it only took one look at Sara for her to come out with the story of her crappy day. Sara laughed.

"So that's why you're wearing the dress."

"That's what you're focusing on?" Ava said, focusing on the road with a small smile on her face. "I have to go back to my apartment at 5AM and clean up kitty litter and coffee grounds."

"Not to mention getting coffee out of your shirt." Sara snorted, and Ava groaned, loud and over the top.

///

They always split when they got to the studio, Ava marching off to make-up to get ready, and Sara taking the elevator to the studio floor to set up her camera. The studio was always dead past midnight, just a skeleton crew left, which Sara found she enjoyed - it was easier to know everyone that way. She waved at Nate, distracting him from where he was running through the weather, muttering under his breath and checking his perfectly coiffed hair in the camera. He waved back, a bright smile on his face.

Careful not to trip over any of the wires on the floor, Sara made her way up to the box above the studio, the cramped room filled from head to toe with blinking lights and buttons, with a large window so they could look down on the studio. The techs – Behrad and Charlie - were sat with headphones on, running through sound checks, so Sara just waved to them as she found who she was looking for.

Zari, the studio runner, was running through her clipboard, muttering under her breath. When she saw Sara coming, she rolled her eyes. "Back again?"

"What have you got for her today?" Sara asked, keeping her voice nonchalant.

"The usual. Some city councilor has been embezzling funds, Star City is readying to bid for the 2028 Olympics, and former mayor Queen is opening a patisserie down-town. It's been a quiet week."

"Exactly." Sara said, her grin widening. "You've got to add the cat one."

Ray, their head writer, had found a story a week ago about a fat cat attending the Star City pet spa to lose weight, and Sara had been tracking down clips of the poor thing, bribing the editor, Nora, to pull them together. She'd even written a script. Zari looked at her with an eyebrow raised.

"Seriously?"

"Yes! I have a bet going with Mick - if I can get Ava to break on camera by the end of the month, he's got to give me $50." Sara said. It was ridiculous, she'd started the bet - truthfully, she found it endearing how Ava read the news with the same abject sternness whether she was covering a political scandal or a dog who'd learnt to surf in Star City Bay. She'd only broken her composure once - a smile creeping on her face when reporting on the 5th birthday of a crocodile at Star City Zoo named Snaps. From that day on, Sara had vowed to make her laugh, properly, live on air.

"I don't have any time to make up." Zari said, and Sara sighed.

"Yeah, but you know Ava reads quick enough. Please? For me?"

Zari seemed immune to the puppy eyes, so Sara sighed. "And I'll give you $20."

Zari snorted. "Do you have $20?"

"I'll have $50 when I win the bet." Sara countered, and Zari sighed.

"Fine. I'll see what I can do."

"Z, you're the best." Sara said with a grin, and turned to return to the studio floor.

///

The program went smoothly, like always. Sara liked her job, the focus of filming and the pride she got when she saw her own work on TV, but she liked it better when she was filming Ava, who had pretty much insisted from day one that Sara be her primary operator.

Ava looked especially pretty today, someone in make-up evidently having convinced her that she didn't need the bun today, and instead curled her hair over both shoulders, which didn't completely cover Ava's defined arms, visible in her sleeveless dress.

The night ran the same as most others, Ava transitioning smoothly between topics and engaging in light, courteous banter with Nate before he presented the weather. Sara looked at Ava during these moments, the five minutes she was off camera, where she looked down at her notes, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

Okay, so maybe Sara wanted to make Ava laugh because she looked so pretty doing it. Sue her.

They were coming near the end, and Sara was losing hope that the story would be included, until she heard the segue.

"Now, in lighter news," Ava started, her eyebrows suddenly shooting up as she read the prompter. Sara grinned; Zari had obviously left this out of Ava's notes to inspire more of a reaction.

"Cats," Ava blurted out, steadying herself before continuing, "they're not normally known for their love of swimming, but one feline in Star City is hitting the water instead of the gym in a bid to lose weight. Mr. Snuggles -" Ava bit her lip as the pictures played on the monitor - a black and white cat in a life vest, looking absolutely terrified, and Sara grinned. "Mr. Snuggles is a thirteen-year-old cat who - dislikes the outdoors and other physical activities."

Sara's grin widened as Ava lost it, barely making it through her lines through her giggles. Her face was flushing pink and she bit her lip to try and compose herself. "But with encouragement from his owner -" Ava pressed on, trying to hold herself together, "Mr. Snuggles had lost one pound in six months."

That was the final straw, as Ava descended into a full-on laugh, barely making it through her sign off. Sara was so distracted by the sound she nearly missed Zari's voice in her ear. "Camera 1 to Camera 3 in 3, 2, 1 -"

Sara switched off, but not before Ava snorted, flushing even deeper and covering her face with her hands at the sound, not disguised by the jingle from the lottery numbers playing across the screen.

///

Ava had bolted from the set, and Sara packed up her equipment as quickly as possible, ducking out just in time to catch Ava as she walked down the corridor to the lobby. Her face was now free of make-up, her hair tied up in a messy bun, but she was still in the dress that left Sara's mouth a little dry. She looked at Sara, blushing again.

"I can't believe you did that." She groaned, and Sara put on her most innocent face on.

"Did what?"

"Bribed Zari to put the cat story in! John in make-up said that Charlie had told him that you'd bribed Zari."

"To win $50!" Sara said, grinning. "And you have a really cute laugh."

Ava looked up; eyebrow furrowed. "Really?"

"Yep." Sara said, trying to play it cool. "Look, do you want half? I feel bad now."

Ava sighed. "No, it's okay."

"I could buy you dinner." Sara said, almost blurting it out, and Ava looked at her. "To make up for it."

Ava's mouth quirked up in a smile. "Uh - yeah, okay. I can do dinner."

~the end~

okay so this was fun to write and i kind of want to write more so uhh send me where u think this story should go. or ideas for a part 2 maybe. thanks for reading!!

[aroworlds]

I want to thank people for not making “you don’t have to be so angry” or “they were only trying to help” comments on my rant post or in my inbox today--which I often get whenever I dare to let my emotions have free-rein in my words.

I do believe that communications that are less emotional (by which I mean emotions that make others uncomfortable, like anger, distress or offense) and more constructive and empathetic in tone make for more effective activism. I am less likely to misstep or misphrase in my anger, I can make my point more clearly, and my audience is more like to both understand and accept my post. Anger makes it difficult to convince, and this blog is about communication and interaction. My goal isn’t to show off my anger at the world; it’s to enable and support change. I am not the kind of person who can turn anger into a daily-wielded weapon without hurting myself at the same time, but I also think that it doesn’t help me best achieve my goals as a blogger, activist or writer.

(I am not speaking for anyone else’s activism here, just my own.)

Because of that, though, people tend to react as though my anger is irrational or undeserved when I do allow it to emerge. The rare times I’ve been angry at someone on my other blogs have always resulted in consequent anon hate, people telling me I had no right to feel what I did. Words like overreact tend to be used: people telling me I have no right to have even a few moments, here and there, where my feelings overwhelm the rest of my activism.

As an undiagnosed autistic kid, I learnt long ago that overreact should be applied to everything I feel and experience--that there is nothing acceptable about my reactions. That everything I do, feel, think and communicate is too much, too absurd, too inappropriate, too unnecessary, too ridiculous.

I make snarky comments to friends, sometimes, about how blogging is no different from retail, but it isn’t: the only difference is that I have more ability to stop, to edit, to think, to regroup. (That and written English is far more natural a language to me than spoken English.) I am still expected to be calm, pleasing, patient, non-confrontational. I am still expected to hide my feelings and frustrations lest I annoy or alienate people, and I still work with the constant terror that if I do or say the wrong thing, I will lose people who support me in my writing and activism the same way I lost my retail job. Ironic, in that we autistics and a-specs are levelled with the charge robot, always dismissively, but my failure to be an ever-cheerful automaton doing everything everyone else wants has caused me so many professional and interpersonal problems.

Don’t be a robot, stiff and loveless and disconnected from the world, but be a robot in how I perform allism to a degree even allistics need not bother with, denying me all right to any emotion that isn’t allistic-approved service-with-a-smile. I get it as much online as off; the only difference is that, online, I can employ the block button and refuse to engage.

I’m rarely afforded the consideration that, if I am daring to be angry in spaces where I seldom rant, I have reason to be furious.

Today, I wanted to be angry. Most of the time, when I’m upset or angry I don’t want to post; I just don’t have the executive function to save the post to draft and back away. After, I’m upset and regretful about my preemptive posting, because I didn’t do the subject or my followers justice. Today, I didn’t want that. I want the world to understand that if you make that argument on my blog, I am going to come in and slice you into a thousand metaphorical pieces because there is nothing polite or reasonable about its positing.

Anger isn’t usually a weapon for me, but today it has to be.

For the last few years, most a-spec and inclusionist-related blogs have had some interfering person, usually allistic and allo (never both autistic and a-spec) pipe up with the “but a-spec is an autistic term! The autistic community says appropriation!” comment. This is something that has been rejected, criticised and disproved hundreds of times by a-spec autistics. This is something that has no widespread evidence in the #actuallyautistic community--but how we autistics talk about ourselves is of no interest to allistics patting themselves on their back for their activism. We autistics, especially a-spec autistics, aren’t real people with our own community, language terms and culture; we’re just a convenient tool to be trotted out to win at discourse.

Because it sounds like social justice, this idea doesn’t stay within exclusionist spaces, the same way well-meaning people insist a-spec headcanons of autistic characters is “dehumanisation”.

It means we can’t escape this pervasive attitude.

It means we’re constantly having to fight it just to talk about our own communities.

To take language like “a-spec” away from the a-spec community is an abhorrent act of erasure. To use autistics as pawns in this act is ableism, not only because we are not heard or acknowledged by allistics at any other time but also because they are denying the language and culture we autistics already have. A language and culture that does not commonly use a-spec as an identifying term. A language and culture that is all about saying to the world that autistic is not a bad thing to be and we are not afraid to use the word “autistic” to describe ourselves.

(Do you know that I’ve had one medical professional use the word “autistic” to me? One. Everyone else uses “on the spectrum” or “ASD” to me, even though I’ve never used either while discussing myself. A-spec doesn’t sound autistic. It sounds allistic--another desperate way to keep from saying the word!)

We autistic a-specs are subjected to people not both autistic and a-spec speaking at us, over us, about us and for us. We’re subjected to condescension and dismissal. We’re subjected to the pain of having to explain ourselves, over and over, while our explanations go dismissed. We’re subjected to comments of the “but they’re just trying to help!” or “they don’t know!” sort from our allies when we do get angry or frustrated. We are forced to have to explain and justify our own language, our own culture, our own right to use our own community and identity terms--our own right to exist.

Calmly refuting this a-spec antagonistic ableism hasn’t stopped it.

I do genuinely appreciate this time, though, the absence of anon hate messages--it’s a rare thing that I am allowed to be angry about anything without negative consequence, without people seeking to silence me with hate or dismissal. Without people reinforcing the message that my real feelings should never be displayed for other people to see. Without reading or hearing that dreaded word overreaction.

Thank you, my followers, for allowing me today to be angry.

[allonsysilvertongue]

Wiping History

“What will happen when we get to your arena?” she demanded. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.“ 75 arenas and one colossal task for Effie Trinket. Hayffie. Post-MJ. Previously.

12. Johanna’s Troubles

The door was unlocked which made Effie pursed her lips in annoyance. Anyone could have walked in here and while she did not have that many valuable things to be worth any thieving, she still wished Johanna was more careful.

"You think they're still in there?"

"I hope he is not," Effie muttered as she led Haymitch in.

She had been adamant about returning home to have a change of clothes. She refused to go through a day at work in yesterday's clothes and she was not about to wear any of Haymitch's clothes to office either. Times might have changed but she still considered dressing to perfection a priority.

Since he happened to already be awake, they decided to leave together, making a pit stop at her apartment before heading off.

Effie eyed the floor in disdain, picking up Johanna's bra and left boot before setting it down on a chair, all the while shaking her head as Haymitch watched on in amusement.

"Think you missed out her panties," he chuckled.

She wrinkled her nose but since it was partially hidden – likely, kicked away during their tryst – Effie made a mental note to inform Johanna to take care of it. She turned and yelped, feeling rough hands holding her upright.

It was only then that she began to feel the warmth of naked skin on her and something unpleasant poking her in the stomach. She shuddered, refusing to let her mind think about what it was. Effie looked up, staring straight at a pair of brown eyes.

They're the wrong colour, she thought briefly, before she felt herself ripped away from the stranger.

"Don't fuckin' touch her," Haymitch growled, pushing her protectively behind him.

"Sorry, man," the stranger put both hands up in an amicable gesture.

The man, Effie noticed once she managed to get Haymitch from blocking her view, was stark naked and he was standing there in her living room. Her gaze strayed downwards unwittingly. Haymitch, who was looking at her, noticed it too and he scowled.

"Put on some fucking clothes," he snarled. "There's a lady here, have some respect."

She really couldn't help the small chuckles that escaped. Here he was, Haymitch Abernathy, constantly trying to protect her honour even when she didn't ask him to, even when she was capable of handling the situation herself. She wondered if Haymitch realised that in a way, he was selfish. He had no problem walking around naked when it was only them in the Penthouse during the Games but when another man did it, it made him see red.

"Uh, I was just... gonna get my clothes when I bumped into you. Sorry, miss, didn't mean to scare you.  I'll be out of your hair," he explained, grabbing his boxer tossed on the armchair in a hurry. "She's still sleeping but she said something about - "

The man turned just then and Effie saw the scratch marks on his back. Naturally, her mind wandered to the things Johanna had done with him and she wished she could reel back her thoughts.

" - going for drinks tonight? I didn't get her number.... or her name but I recognised her, the infamous Johanna Mason."

Haymitch raised a dubious eyebrow, looking at him from head to toe. Effie laid a hand on his arm to stay him. She had no idea what was going on with Johanna but Effie doubted she really planned for drinks with this stranger and she particularly did not like the way he referred to her as the infamous Johanna Mason.

"I think it will be best if you leave now," Effie told him. Turning towards Haymitch, she lowered her voice and asked, "Will you make sure he leaves? I should wake Johanna up before we all run late."

Johanna was sleeping on her stomach, naked in all her glory. Her eyes roamed the younger woman's body, noting the numerous scars, knowing very well that she could recount how Johanna sustained that scar running from her shoulder blade to her left rib or that jagged scar near her hip bone or the one at the base of her neck from when they shaved her hair and nicked her skin.

Effie called her name softly, repeatedly, until her voice broke into the haze of her dream. The young woman jolted into a sitting position, her eyes darting wildly until it stopped on Effie. She visibly relaxed.

"Not late," she mumbled, pointing to the clock.

"That is because I am here to ensure that you are not," Effie plastered a smile, trying not to cringe at the state of her guestroom. "Now, big, big day today, so please, do get ready. Haymitch is taking care of your... other problem."

Johanna made no mention of the man nor did she show any interest in him so Effie supposed, they made the right call to send him off despite his claim of further dates tonight.

They made it to the Parliament in good time, no thanks to Johanna who clearly took her time until Effie's continuous sighs irritated her. Once Effie gave her a map of Finnick's arena, Johanna was much more subdued than her normal self, only breaking her silence once they were in the hovercraft.

"He was my best friend – didn't get it through his thick head that I didn't want his friendship but I'm glad he was stubborn," she spoke so quietly Effie had to strain her ears to pick it up against the roar of the hovercraft's engine as it took off. "Haymitch had Chaff, I had him. I didn't need it but he shielded me whenever he could. Take on anyone who's interested in me even after Snow's got no one left I love to hurt me with."

Johanna was completely oblivious to the look Effie exchanged with Haymitch over her head. Finnick's calm had always been a gracious complement to Johanna's temper. That was not something Effie was oblivious to but there were certain aspect of their friendship that she was not aware of, and clearly, neither did Haymitch.

"Should have been there," she crossed her arms and stared out of the window. "Would have protected his fuckin' ass if Thirteen had cleared me for the damn star squad. It might have turned out differently for him and Annie."

"We don't know that," Haymitch objected, sitting across from her. "It is the way it is, kid. We gotta live with it. You think I don't want Chaff here? Or Mags? They deserve to be in this world – they fought for it just as much."

Like Haymitch had done with Mags' arena, Johanna torched Finnick's. She took the trident he used to win his Games with her but let everything in there burn to the ground. Neither Effie nor Haymitch asked what she planned to do with that trident Mags had the sponsors gifted him with but Effie hoped Johanna wasn't planning on giving it to little Finn when he grew up. It felt wrong somehow.

Since Johanna was there, Effie moved Annie's and Johanna's arena forward in her schedule so there would be no need for her to make multiple trips to the Capitol.

Annie's arena took quite longer than normal. A portion of the place had been turned into a water park from the earthquake that broke the damn which meant that the water had to be vacuumed out before the explosives could be put in place.

Effie watched Johanna and Haymitch as they took in the sight of the three colourful looping giant slides, the huge bucket that would collect water and upend at a specific time on joyous Capitol children, and the long stream of lazy river where people would float on their buoy as it took them downstream.

There was also a 'hot spring' at the base of the volcano. Since nothing in here was natural, it was simply a gigantic jacuzzi but Capitols were very good at playing pretend as it happened. A large pool had been carved out just south of the lazy river, something Effie thought Finnick would have appreciate if it wasn't actually in Annie's arena.

Haymitch had somehow resigned himself to the oddity that the arenas had been turned to and had nothing to say. Johanna peered over the edge into the river and wondered, "so if someone pees in there, it means you Capitols will be swimming around in it."

"Who is doing the honour?" Baron asked, saving Effie from delving further into that horrific thought.

He approached the trio, detonator in hand. The arena was ready to be demolished.

By then, it was already late in the afternoon and the sun was setting across the horizon. Johanna stepped up, taking the remote from him. Speaking into her communication piece, Effie alerted the Command Centre to bring up the force field once they were all standing outside of it. Johanna took great pleasure in pressing the button that eventually rocketed the arena in a contained demolition.

"Mine's tomorrow, yeah?"

"It is," Effie nodded as they descended down the stairs of the Parliament to head home. "Yours is scheduled for 10.00 am and - where are you going?"

"Don't wait up," she waved and disappeared down one of the alleys.

Effie turned towards Haymitch, biting her lower lip as she did so. "I hope she is not planning on repeating what happened yesterday."

"The way I see it you can head home right now and lock the door before she comes home or you can come over my place," Haymitch shrugged, giving her the option.

She thought it through but eventually made up her mind. "I will head home. It is my house and I will not hide away from it."

"Alright. Call if you need anything, yeah?"

At two in the morning, Effie was startled awake by the ringing of her phone. The voice of a clearly annoyed Haymitch greeted her.

"I'm coming over," he said without preamble but Effie could guess from the loud music in the background that Johanna had clearly invaded his space.

"I can't believe you locked me out of your house, Trinket!"

Effie winced. She was perfectly fine with letting Johanna in but the thought of having a stranger in a place she had learnt to feel safe in was not something she could deal with lately. She should have made it clear with Johanna from the start. It was her fault.

"She's got the same guy from yesterday," Haymitch sighed. "I'm gonna let them have this place. I'll go to yours. You're okay with that?"

Better Haymitch than a stranger.

"Absolutely. I'm terribly sorry you're in this position."

"Ain't your fault. Don't fucking touch my booze," she heard Haymitch yell over the music before he hung up.

He was there ten minutes later. Effie led him to the guest bedroom except he looked appalled at the mere thought.

"I ain't sleeping on that – imagine what went on there yesterday night," he grumbled. "I'm fine with the couch, sweetheart."

“You can sleep with me, Haymitch,” she offered.

“You sure?”

“Yes, of course,” she nodded with a smile. “The bed is much more comfortable than the couch.”

When she woke up to find herself cocooned in his embrace, Effie couldn’t say she was surprised. They had a way of unconsciously gravitating towards one another especially so in their sleep when their guards were down.

Effie blinked, looking at him, making no move to extricate herself from the situation. She missed this. She missed having the heavy weight of his arm thrown carelessly around her waist. She missed waking up with her face pressed against his chest. She missed the warmth that only he could give her.

Alright, you know the drill, let me have your reviews! Tell me your thoughts on this chapter :)

Also, just a quick announcement, there will not be an update next week as I'll be sitting for my exam paper & then flying off after. So see you in 2 weeks!

[sandralmuller]

Cobbler's kids: how to unwittingly hurt your writing business

Early on in the late-90s action movie “The Negotiator”, police negotiating expert Chris Sabian remarks:

“I once talked a guy out of blowing up the Sears Tower but I can’t talk my wife out of the bedroom or my kid off the phone.”

It’s a modern twist of the timeless proverb ‘the cobbler’s children have no shoes’. If you haven’t come across the term before, it refers to someone who, while perfectly capable in their profession, is unable or unwilling to help their family with whatever skill they’ve mastered (in this case, the cobbler can’t even give his own kids shoes).

And it’s a phrase that’s been kicking around my head for the past few months.

Why?

Because recently, I took the plunge into solopreneurship.

Little did I know…

I tripped up. A lot. Surprisingly, the things I stumbled over weren’t what I expected. Sure, finances are a drag, but easy to keep on top of if you spend the time. Replying to potential clients pronto and having the right process — two of the ‘professional basics’ — were both things I picked up super-fast.

But the things that I helped clients with as a copywriter, and got great feedback and response almost every time? No problem… except when it came to my own business.

So, what were these ‘cobbler kid’ mistakes leaving my business high and dry? The list is a long one, but these were a few that particularly stung.

1. Not optimising for SEO

What went wrong

You’re probably asking, “How the heck does a copywriter not optimise their own site for SEO?”

And that’s a good question!

Simply put, I didn’t appreciate the value or importance of SEO. My introduction to the industry and priority for the last several years was direct response copywriting. SEO barely rates a mention in this field, as the focus is squarely on how to craft effective, persuasive messaging.

SEO is its own speciality and one that I only recently started to explore. And yes, I’m discovering some hard lessons.

Getting back on track

The first step to getting half-decent at any skill is to get a clue from a credible source. 

The next stages involve a lot more elbow-grease. Slowly revisiting my web pages to optimise them for SEO is a painful but necessary task, but building off-site SEO with things like guest posting (with the help of lovely people like Sandra!) and directory links have been the #1 priority over the past month.

2. Under-pricing your services

What went wrong

Any business who doesn’t charge enough is at worst going out of business and at best checking in for a long stay in Struggle Town. And it’s not just a matter of profit and loss. Cheap prices can be a red flag to many customers and earn you a reputation as a budget service provider.

And yet, from my very first jobs in copywriting — where I wrote blog posts for $10/hr — to even earlier this year, price has been a big problem for me.

Imposter syndrome and lack of self-confidence certainly played a major part in that. Getting much of my early work on an online freelance platform, where low-cost bidding is prevalent, also had a role. Plus, the simple fact was that I didn’t know industry rates for a lot of things I did… a very basic thing I needed to address.

via GIPHY

Getting back on track

To be honest, I sometimes still struggle to charge a fair rate. Being in a Facebook community where others encourage you to charge what you’re worth has been one big way to put the Under-charging Monster back in its box.

Sick of the wild ‘I guess it’ll be $70 for a web page’ guesses, I also followed the SEO example and read up. Being a bit of a Kate Toon fan (if you haven’t noticed), I took her pricing course, which created a lot of clarity to what I charge these days.

3. Not doing enough marketing

What went wrong

If you’re a copywriter, you’ve probably done jobs where it’s been as much about the marketing as it is the copy. Even if I’m not giving marketing advice, I almost always talk to clients about how they’re going about marketing their business.

Oh, how I wish I could have had that conversation to myself twelve months ago (without appearing like a complete crazy to the world).

In my earliest days, I was completely oblivious to the marketing side of things. And while I’ve learnt a lot over the years, it wasn’t until I’d been running my business for some months that the need for marketing became painfully apparent.

Captain Obvious GIF

Getting back on track

I’ve found marketing as much an organisational challenge as anything else. Carving time out of every week to spend just on marketing has started the wheels to slowly turn.

Experimenting with things like social media and pay-per-click ads has also been educational. There have been mistakes (like setting up a landing page but disabling the opt-in button, then spending a few hundred dollars driving traffic to a useless page) but the lessons have been valuable most times.

Content marketing — in which blogs play a big part — also rears its head. On top of being super for SEO, it’s a powerful marketing tool for many businesses and sits at the top of my marketing to-do list these days.

4. Spending too much time with prospects

What went wrong

I’m an introvert but can spend hours talking to almost anyone about a subject I’m a fan of (like marketing, copywriting, or AFL). It’s a weird paradox.

So, when businesses approach me, I’m always happy to have a chat.

The problems started when I took 1, 2 or even more hours out of my workday to talk to prospects. Regardless of whether I ended up with work, it quickly became an inefficient way of scoping a project.

Getting back on track

Today, I try to be more ruthless and protective of my time.

I’ll always be happy to help people out, but the investment is more carefully controlled. 60-minute chats can be cut in half (or more). The pre-work I used to do is now sidelined until a project is green lit.

Finally, to finish on a more personal note…

5. Getting snared in the distraction trap

What went wrong

When you’ve got writing to do, it seems like the perfect time to jump on Facebook. Check out LinkedIn. Re-tweet a few blog posts.

That’s never been my problem, luckily. When it comes time to write, the siren song of social media is one I can happily sail past. But… email is a different proposition, even though the problem is the same (as Sandra points out here).

The little dopamine hit you get when a new email lands in the inbox is all it takes to keep me checking email throughout the day, even though 95% of it is non-urgent, irrelevant of flat-out crap.

While it’s not a serious time sink, it does break your concentration. That momentum kill is enough to hinder your productivity for the next couple of minutes. Add that up enough times over the day, and you’ve just lost a big chunk to the nefarious inbox.

Getting back on track

Using an app like Freedom to block access during my writing time was an obvious first step (which reminds me, I’ve been slipping lately!).

The second thing was to give myself permission to let my inbox blow out a bit throughout the week. “Inbox Zero” is a tempting target to strive for, but it becomes more a distracting annoyance than liberating. Cleaning out emails once every week or two is more than enough, just to make sure it doesn’t get to this…

via GIPHY

How about you? Are you selling your shoes in the market while your kids (AKA your business) run barefoot in the back streets? And if so, what can you do to bring the love back into your own ‘home’?

About the author

Owner of the imaginatively-titled Dean Mackenzie Copywriting, Dean is a freelance copywriter trained in direct response methods, with most of his work centring on landing pages, emails, websites and sales pages.

He also enjoys speaking about himself in the third person and a good cup of tea.

Pin it to read later

Cobbler’s kids: how to unwittingly hurt your writing business was originally published on The Smarter Writer