#edit: reminder; do not post without proofreading. >:c

[dongiovannaswife]

little one

this is a small follow up to Ari’s ( @softlimefluff​ ) fic —Ellie’s finally here!! :D 

cw: pregnancy related. other than that, nothing else. 

9:00 PM, Morioh. May 7.

The door opens and Giorno peeks an eye open from the couch, where he’s sitting. The twins are deep asleep on the small cribs brought there by the Foundation —from his spot, and even on his sleepy daze, he gets to see his wife walk into the room, untying her ponytail and letting her curls run down until they land on her waist, framing her shoulders and face when she leans on the couch before her, sighing with a hand over her face.

“Doll.” He murmurs in both a greeting and a call. Standing up, he steps out of the boys’ zone before walking up to her. Reaching a hand out first, he puts her hand back, kissing the back of it and mumbling against the skin of the zone he just kissed. “How did it go? Rohan was almost crying out of happiness —I barely understood your message though his excitement.”

Passing her arms around his waist and leaning her head on his chest, Lena hums, mumbling her answer from her spot. “Ellie is finally here, Gio.” And looking up, he finally gets a glimpse of her eyes; watered, tired but happy at the same time. “It’s a beautiful girl, baby. Her full name,” she blinks back tears, making her eyes focus on the ceiling in an attempt to trick her eyes into ‘forgetting they were crying’ “It’s Eliana,” a single tear runs down her cheek and Giorno’s heart skips a beat but… Shatters at once.

“Lena?” he asks, but she keeps going, grinning now.

“Eliana Reimi Kishibe.” She sobs quietly, burying her face into Giorno’s chest. A surprised Giorno can only hold her close, cradling her head into his chest in the perfect way for her to hear his heartbeat and breathing; to allow a way for her to sync her breathing with his.

Gathering his voice back up, Giorno mumbles. “How does that make you feel, honey?”

The way she rests her head on his chest seems relaxed, all her body says that, but even then, he can’t help but think of something different.

But when Lena looks back at him, all soft and happy, all he can do is melt, letting a smile take over.

“I’m so happy for them —I never expected them to name their baby like… her.”

He nods, “Yeah, it definitely surprised me too. Do you think I can go and meet her? See how’s Ariel doing?”

Lena shakes her head, breaking the hug to step into the bathroom to freshen up despite the need to sleep.

Leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, Giorno takes note of the way she brushes her hair using only her wet fingers —starting from the ends with care. “No, baby. I don’t think you should: you can, of course, but Ari must be exhausted and Ellie too. It’s a big process for both parts, you know.”

Giorno hums, stepping into the bathroom and getting behind her, he reaches out once she’s done unknotting her hair, pulling it into a soft bun. “Mhm. Tomorrow, then.”

Lena nods, looking at her husband through the mirror. His expression while he secures the bun so it doesn’t fall off and doesn’t mess up with her hair one to behold, “How are the boys? Were they fussy?”

“Just a bit,” turning her around, Giorno soon leans his hands on the sink, leaning close so they can talk without having to lower their voices too much. “They did ask for you all day, but understood when I said you were working on something.”

She nods, looking back at where the boys are asleep. Taking Giorno’s arm, she silently guides him out the bathroom, walking up to the sleeping twins.

Sitting by them, she leans in, kissing their foreheads and laughing a bit when both sigh right after the contact, settling in.

“Are you hungry?”

She shakes her head, “Just tired.”

Giorno smiles, walking into the kitchen without a word. Coming back, he hides something behind his back with a grin. “I knew you’d say that so,” he shows her the bottle; its orange content something she recognizes immediately. “Carrot juice for my queen.”

Upon Lena’s giggle, he sits down, giving her the bottle. “I’ll take the boys to the room while you drink that, okay? I’d hate to see you sick so,” he leans in for a short peck before standing up. “Enjoy your drink.”

She nods, opening the bottle and watching through sips how Giorno moves the boys into the room.

Giorno’s thoughts are filled with wonder —Rohan had told them, in detail, how it was like to grow up with Reimi; he already knew something from Jotaro, but hearing the version from the person who was close with her had more impact.

Now, to hear that same boy had grown up, got married and named his daughter after the person who saved him, it definitely sparked something on his chest —it tugged his heartstrings to the point of admiration. Not like he didn’t respect and admire Rohan and Ariel before, but now, something felt… different. Inspiring, even.

Setting Jovi on his crib and making sure he’s warm and safe, he comes to the conclusion that he can’t wait to meet little Eliana.

Coming back into the living room, he’s met with the image of his wife lying down on the couch with Ares under her arm and the bottle of juice properly closed and on the table —almost immediately, he thinks back to the time she fell asleep on his shoulder when they were still dating: the way he blushed and got flustered over the sight of his girlfriend asleep by his side, a sight he got lucky to see every day.

“Lena,” he calls, kneeling by her side. Ares’ blue eyes give him a short look before he’s dozing off again.

“Lena, doll.” He calls again, slipping a hand to her cheekbone, where he takes the time to trace it and feel her warmth. “Let’s take you to bed, yes? And change you, you’re still in your uniform.”

“Así estoy bien, gracias.��  I’m okay like this, thank you.

How he wanted to laugh like a maniac —that was not the answer he was expecting. It was worth a reminder later.

“Eh, no, tesoro. You need comfy clothes for bed, okay? And the bed is way comfier than the couch.” Slipping his hands under her, he scoops her up bridal style, carrying her to their bedroom with only her low mumble of something he could translate to ‘you win.’

  Next morning, 8:35 AM.

Giorno’s hands are filled with presents as he walks into Ari’s room, with Westwood holding the door open and Mista helping with Dante; Lena, by the end of them, comes in with Jovi in her arms.

“Good morning, Han, Ari.” The Donna greets them, sitting down with a tired sigh. “How are you, Ari?”

“’M good,” she mumbles, trying to blink the sleep away —eyes glued to the baby in Rohan’s arms.

“I…” Giorno speaks up for the first time, setting down a smaller box on top of the multiple bigger ones. “Got a little excited and brought some things.”

“Thank you, Gio. You didn’t have to.” Rohan speaks this time, looking up from Ellie’s face to Giorno’s —the soft look in his eyes says it all when he stands, walking up to Giorno. “I want you to meet someone, Ellie.” He whispers, looking back at his daughter; even when his eyes are bloodshot and the bags under them stand out more than anything, his expression does say he’s the happiest man in the world.

“Gio,” he comes to a stop before the Don, leaning a bit so the taller man can see. “This is Ellie.”

Giorno’s smile is there before he knows it —a warm feeling spreads through his chest and being, bringing with it the need to protect and watch over her while she grows up. Extending a hand out, he slips his finger into Eliana’s hand, chuckling when she grabs at his finger, smacking her lips a few times before settling in.

“Rohan, Ariel.” Giorno calls, looking between them. “I’m her uncle now, right?”

Ariel grins, chuckling a little. Finally awake, she watches from her bed the exchange. “Yes, you are.”

“What kind of question is that, Giovanna?” Rohan teases, unable to look up from the baby in his arms.

“He’s having a moment, guys.” Lena joins in the teasing, hiding her grin when she kisses Jovi’s head.

“I mean,” Giorno finally recovers, unable to hide his happiness. “…Nevermind, I don’t know why I asked that.”

Rohan chuckles, shaking his head. Ellie moves a little upon the loss of contact with Giorno, but as soon as Rohan goes back to Ari, letting her carry Ellie, the little one settles back in, comforted by her mother’s warmth.

“Dada?” Jovi suddenly asks, pointing at Ellie and Ariel, big eyes and mouth in a perfect ‘o’.

“Auntie Ariel, buddy. And the little one is Ellie.”

Jovi nods, closing his eyes, “Niiiice.”

Giorno laughs, nodding —Dante extends his arms out to him, asking to be held.

“Woah, buddy.” Mista chuckles, letting Dante go with his dad.

Petting Dante’s head, Giorno hums in Ellie’s direction, making the boy look at her immediately. “See, buddy? Ellie’s here. Say hi to her.”

The boy nods, grinning when he looks back at Ariel and Ellie, raising his voice in excitement. “Hi, hi! E—Edlie! Awii!”

Giorno nods, chuckling and letting the boy greet everyone in the room.

Despite Dante’s voice, Giorno still looks back at Ariel and Rohan, smiling warmly at them. “Congratulations, guys.” And last, he steals a look at his wife. Almost like he’s thinking of something before he looks back in time to see the couple smile and bow their heads.

[animalguideee]

[ad_1] Clinical Animal Behaviourists break behaviours or tricks that they are training into for animals to learn. For example, I am training my dog to target or touch items with his rear feet, so I started by rewarding him for moving toward the target item, then for moving his hind legs in the direction of the item, then stepping backward near the item, then touching any part of the item with his foot, then touching the middle of the item with his foot, then holding his foot on top of the middle of the item for a few seconds. This is shaping and building a behaviour. Complex tricks like running an entire agility course or doing a circus performance can be trained step-wise in a similar way. Despite my understanding of clinical behaviour and animal training, it is a challenge for me to break my own projects into smaller steps. I used to keep my schedule extremely full and work under extreme pressure at the last minute, i.e. writing a paper the night before it was due. I worked in that way throughout high school and during most of undergrad, but it became very unhealthy. Short-term stress is ok, but long-term stress takes a toll on health. I know not to push my dog too hard by training him for too long because it could make him irritable, stressed and negatively impact his learning. This year, I have been working to develop new, healthier work habits. Unfortunately, it takes a long time for new habits/behaviours to form. My dog will have to practice touching a target with his rear foot many, many times before it becomes a behaviour that he does quickly and reliably without hesitation. The same is true for human behaviour modification. I have learned a great deal during this MSc programme, but I often notice that even when I know something cognitively (for example, I know that leaving writing to the last minute is unhealthy for me), I have trouble converting that information into my behavioural habits.  It is difficult to break large projects into smaller pieces and to do one piece at a time. I was able to do this when I was preparing for graduate school. Some of my steps toward my post-graduate studies were: 1. Complete a Bachelor's degree in Psychology  2. Work in an Exotic veterinary practice  a. excel as a veterinary assistant & learn best ways to handle exotic animals safely and humanely   b. gain promotion to veterinary nurse and learn veterinary skills  c. read a book on Avian Behaviour which referenced studies at Dick Vet  d. read veterinary journals and behavioural case studies which also cited research conducted in Scotland 3. Work in a not-for-profit veterinary practice with an Animal Welfare mission a. learn about animal sheltering, TNR, spay/neuter, cat and dog behaviour 4. Take online classes in clinical behaviour, animal welfare and training 5. Clicker-train my dog, friends' dogs, my cat and my chickens  6. Apply for Edinburgh's MSc AABAW programme 7. Attend the University of Edinburgh in Scotland...(write this blog, etc. etc.) Now, I am starting to see a bit of light at the end of the MSc tunnel because my dissertation is due in about a month. I still have many, many little steps left. I am reminding myself to do one thing at a time. If I can keep doing on thing at a time (one graph, one outline, one sentence, one paragraph, one page, one section, one citation...) I should end up with a paper/dissertation. If I include the steps of editing, rewriting, proofreading, then I should have a good dissertation. I have already done many of the steps of this project, but I still have writing and more work to do.  The good news is that, since this is an animal behaviour project, the animals were already behaving or at least had the ability to perform various behaviours. I am just decoding that behaviour and communicating the information in written scientific language (instead of greedily keeping the knowledge in my brain) so that, hopefully, animals will benefit in the future. I hope understanding animal behaviour can improve animal welfare.

The focus of this master's degree and the mission of animal welfare science is understanding animal behaviour to improve animal welfare. I know that as my understanding of my dog's behaviour improved, his welfare improved because we were able to work and live together more easily. I know that learning about my chickens' behaviour has helped me promote their welfare, and that modifications to my home that are in line with promoting normal cat behaviour have improved the welfare of my cat.  Nothing is perfect, but a little by little, we can create positive change in the world.  [ad_2] Source link

[greysfanpage388]

Amnesia part 3

This is a direct continuation of ‘ Amnesia part 1’ and ‘ Amnesia part 2.

http://ailingnoor.tumblr.com/post/162816736156/amnesia-part-1

http://ailingnoor.tumblr.com/post/162967866251/amnesia-part-2

This is a brand new chapter so do check it out! ;)

I’ve done a minor edit on the last paragraph of ‘ Amnesia part 2’ to make it a smooth transition to this part. Also I’ve changed the gestational age of the baby’s birth to 8 months so she’s only borderline premature.

And again thanks to the lovely @jia911 for taking the time out from her busy schedule to proofread for me. You’re the best!! <3

Hope you enjoy! :)

Suddenly Amelia’s blue eyes opened and she looked straight at him.

Owen’s heart leapt with joy as a stray tear rolled down his cheek. He thought he would never see those eyes again. The powers above have answered his prayers after all!

’ Amelia’ Owen whispered , his voice full of emotion as he gently took her hands in his. ’ You’re awake! Thank God. Please don’t do this to me ever again,you hear me? I need you, our daughter needs you.’

Amelia just stared at him, with a frightened and confused expression on her face.

'Our daughter?’ she croaked. ’ What are you talking about? Where am I?’

Owen’s heart sank to the bottom of his chest.

He hoped against hope that she was just playing one of her infamous games again- and that the next moment she would show her infectious dimpled smile and proclaim that she was just kidding.

But Amelia had this look of fear in her eyes which he had never seen before. She was scanning the room frantically, as if desperately searching for a familiar face.

‘ Amelia’ Owen whispered, placing his hand gently on her arm. ‘It’s me. Owen. Your husband. You’re in a hospital- you have been in a car accident.’

Amelia flinched a little at the contact, and looked at him, her blue eyes widened and darkened with fear.

‘ You’re lying, Hunt. You’re just a colleague, not my husband.’ she cried out in a hoarse voice, pushing his hand away.

She pressed the nurses call button and soon several nurses rushed into her room.

‘ Help!’ Amelia croaked, pointing at Owen. ‘Please just get him out of here!’

Owen sank further in the bedside chair, feeling his heart break. What the hell happened? This was not the wife he knew and loved.

‘ I think it’s best if you vacate the room now Dr. Hunt.’ one nurse suggested softly as the other nurses looked on sympathetically. ‘ She’s not in the right condition to see you now- maybe you can come back when she gets better.’

Owen left the room with his head bowed down in dejection as Amelia turned her head in the opposite direction, refusing to look at him.

 _______________________________________________________________

Moments later, Owen was pacing up and down the waiting room, his mind a jumbled mess of emotions. He felt like his entire life had been taken away from him. From the way Amelia reacted upon seeing him, it was obvious she had forgotten what they both shared.

Even though Amelia was now awake, she didn’t even acknowledge him or their baby at all. All the memories that they had built over the years- the first time they held hands at the hospital chapel as she confided in him, their first kiss outside the trailer after she brought him sparkling water, the first time they made love, them deciding to go steady, the proposal, their wedding, the magical night their baby was conceived -all wiped away in an instant.

He had never felt so helpless before and he wondered what could he do to bring her memory back. He would do anything to get his Amelia back.

‘ Maybe she’s delirious.’ he thought to himself. That was a possibility. She had met with an accident, and just had two major surgeries- it would take her some time to recover from this ordeal.

But what if she never recovered from this? What if she never regained her memory? What would he do then?

He stopped pacing and let out a sob of anguish. He wasn’t one to cry in public, but he was being overtook by a wave of emotions.

Before he could control himself, he slammed his fist onto the wall in frustration and winced as he felt a sharp pain in his wrist. Ignoring the pain, he let out all his emotions which had been pent up inside- his anger, frustration, sadness, anguish and regret as he threw another punch at the wall. Maybe, just maybe, had he not let Amelia drive alone that morning, this might not have happened.

He felt someone place a hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t bother to look up. He was not in the mood to face anyone at the moment. He didn’t want this person, whoever it was, to see him in this vulnerable condition.

‘ Owen, stop- you’re hurting yourself. You need to get your wrists checked.’ Meredith Grey said  as she guided him away from the wall to a seat. Owen was now clutching his wrists.

Her heart ached for him, she knew how hard it was to lose a loved one. She also knew that Amelia Shepherd was tough, stubborn and wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Owen finally looked up at her, his eyes filled with sadness, anger, hurt and regret.

‘ She pushed me away Meredith.’ he admitted, his voice full of remorse. ‘ She recognized me, but not as her husband. She chased me out of the room.’ he said, shaking his head sadly. ‘ And she didn’t even ask about the baby. She had forgotten that we’re married and have a baby together. All the memories we shared together, all gone! She’s not the Amelia I know and love. I’ve become just a colleague to her.’ he continued as he let out another sob of anguish.

Meredith’s heart sank to the bottom of her chest.

‘ I’m so sorry Owen.’ she said softly, at loss of the appropriate choice of words.

‘ I don’t know what to do.’ Owen admitted, as he buried his face in his hands. ‘ What if she never regains her memory- will she forget me forever?’

‘ Don’t say that, Owen. She’ll regain her memory back.’ Meredith assured.

Owen shook his head sadly, not believing her words.

‘ I’ll go in to talk to her.’ Meredith offered. ‘ Meanwhile, you have to get your wrists checked.’ she reminded him again.

_______________________________________________________________

Amelia’s back was turned towards the door as Meredith entered the room. The nurses had managed to calm her down, but she was still feeling upset, confused and frightened. They didn’t answer her questions about what happened to cause her to end up in this room and refused to reply when she asked why was Owen Hunt claiming to be her husband.

‘ Amelia.’ Meredith whispered softly so as not to scare the other woman.

Amelia slowly turned around and her face lit up upon seeing her sister-in-law.

‘ Meredith.’ she cried out in relief, holding her arms out in front of her as Meredith walked over to her bed.

Both women embraced in a warm hug as tears rolled down Amelia’s cheeks.

‘ How are you feeling now?’ Meredith asked as she squeezed Amelia’s hand. ‘ You have been in an accident. You need to rest.’

‘ My whole body hurts. My abdomen hurts. My head hurts.’ Amelia groaned.

‘ That’s because you just had major surgery.’ Meredith explained softly, opting not to mention what surgery it was, for fear of overwhelming her sister-in-law.

Amelia winced as she tried to sit up on her bed.

‘ Oh no, don’t move, you don’t want your surgical scar to rupture.’ Meredith warned as she gently pushed Amelia back down.

‘ Surgical scar? What major surgery did I have?’ Amelia asked, looking at Meredith with a puzzled look on her face.

Realizing that Amelia was not in the right state of mind yet to be told about the Caesarean section, Meredith quickly changed the topic.

‘ It’s ok, just get some rest.’ she said as she gave Amelia’s hand a gentle squeeze.

A tense silence filled the room as Amelia tried to no avail to recall how she ended up in an accident. Her mind was a huge blank and all she could think of was the throbbing headache and the pain in her abdomen.

Meredith on the other hand was wondering how to tell Amelia about everything that had happened to her- the accident, the Caesarean section. She was afraid it would all be too overwhelming for her.

‘ Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?’ Amelia croaked in a hoarse voice. ‘ My entire body hurts so much. And why can’t I remember what happened?’

‘ You were in a car accident and suffered some head trauma causing you to lose your memory.’ Meredith explained. ‘ Nelson and Edwards have evacuated the intracranial bleed. You know that these things take time. Give yourself some time to heal, and you’ll regain your memory back.’

Amelia frowned at Meredith’s words. She did remember that she was a neurosurgeon. She remembered trying to calm down anxious patients who had post traumatic amnesia and their family members. But herself being in that position was scary indeed.

‘ Edwards? Who’s Edwards?’ she asked. She had no memory whatsforever of someone named Edwards.

‘Edwards is your favorite resident.’ Meredith explained. ‘ She always scrubs in with you in your surgeries.’

Amelia was puzzled. Since when did she have a favorite resident? She never had a favorite resident before.

This was all new to her.

‘ About Hunt.’ she asked, slowly regaining her voice back. ‘ He came in just now saying that he’s my husband and we have a daughter. I don’t remember getting married to him. What’s going on?’

‘ You both got engaged and married last year, you don’t remember that?’ Meredith asked softly.

Amelia shook her head sadly. She had no recollection of ever getting married.

‘ Meredith, why can’t I remember a single thing about getting married , having a husband and a child?’ she asked in a panicked voice as she tried to sit up again.

Meredith gently pushed her back down.

‘ Don’t worry Amelia, you just had brain surgery and a C section- give yourself some time to heal, ok?’ she said, finally caving in to Amelia’s questions and deciding to mention the Caesarean Section.

Amelia lay back down on her bed, tears starting to pool in her eyes again.

‘ Where’s the baby?’ she whispered.

‘She’s in the NICU now and she looks just like you.’ Meredith answered as she smiled at her.

‘I can bring you to see her when you’ve recovered.’

Amelia slowly nodded. She couldn’t remember being pregnant with a baby girl. She remembered giving birth to her unicorn baby and holding him for 43 minutes, but she couldn’t remember anything about this baby, and it scared her. What kind of mother was she if she can’t even remember carrying this baby? She reasoned that maybe if she saw her daughter all the memories about the baby would return to her.

‘ I’ll ask the nurse to go and get her.’ Meredith offered.

She was about to exit the room to get a nurse when Amelia grabbed her arm to stop her.

‘ Where’s Derek?’ Amelia asked, her blue eyes looking at her questioningly.

It was Meredith’s turn to have tears pooling in her eyes as the question pulled at her heartstrings. She turned away, not wanting Amelia to see her tears. She thought she had put the painful memories of her husband’s death behind her, but now her sister-in-law was resurrecting those memories.

‘ I want Derek.’ Amelia demanded. Derek was her rock and her source of strength and comfort, she needed Derek in scary times like these.

‘ Meredith.’ Amelia called louder when Meredith didn’t reply. ‘ Can you call Derek to come in? I want to see him.’

Her heart sank when Meredith turned to face her with tears rolling down her cheeks.

‘ He’s gone, Amelia. He died 4 years ago due to a brain bleed after a car accident.’

‘ What? No.’ Amelia shook her head in denial. ‘ You’re lying to me. Derek isn’t dead. Why are you all lying to me? What games are you all trying to play with me?! Am I in a nightmare?’

The sharp pain she felt in her abdomen as she twisted her body away from Meredith in anger told her that this was indeed real and wasn’t a nightmare.

Meredith shook her head sadly, unable to offer Amelia comfort when she herself was still reeling from the loss.

‘ I want Derek now!’ Amelia demanded, before being overcome by a coughing fit. Coughing made her surgical scar hurt badly and she doubled up in pain. Meredith pressed the nurses call button and nurse Debbie immediately came to Amelia’s aid.

Still in tears, Meredith slipped quietly out of Amelia’s room. She decided to go back to work and postpone bringing the baby to meet her mother. Amelia certainly wasn’t ready to meet her baby yet. She needed time to process all the new information she was being given, after having the memories of the past few years totally erased from her mind.

Nurse Debbie gently patted Amelia’s back as she waited for the coughing to subside.

‘ They’re all liars, all of them! What’s going on? Why are they all lying to me?’ Amelia cried out to Debbie as tears rolled down her cheeks.

‘ They’re not lying to you, Dr. Shepherd. You need time to recover.’ answered Debbie wisely. ‘ Is it ok if I give you some analgesics for your pain?’

‘ No morphine please.’ Amelia demanded weakly.

‘ No morphine. Just some mild analgesics.’ assured Debbie, as Amelia finally conceded.

After being given the analgesics, Amelia calmed down.

She tried again to recall what had happened to her , but still had no memory at all of the accident that landed her in the hospital room.

Was Derek really dead? Was Meredith really telling her the truth? Did she really lose her  beloved brother?

And why didn’t she have a single recollection of being married to Owen and them having a daughter together? All the information thrown at her was too much and too overwhelming for her to process.

Plus, her entire body hurt. Being a capable neurosurgeon, she was used to being in control of things. She had never felt this hopeless before.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she began sobbing. She cried for the brother whom she loved so dearly and was now suddenly gone. She couldn’t recall her last conversation with him, or her last memories with him. And now he was gone forever from her life. She cried for the fact that she couldn’t recall ever falling in love with Owen Hunt, being engaged, or getting married to him. She cried for Owen, whom she remembered as just a colleague , but claimed to be her husband and father of their child. He seemed so crestfallen when he realized that she didn’t remember what they both shared. She sobbed for their daughter, whom she had no recollection of ever carrying in her womb, and who would be craving for her love which she wouldn’t be able to give.

She wished there was something she could do, she would do anything to get her memory back.

She sobbed and sobbed until the effects of the analgesics she was given overtook her and she succumbed into a deep sleep.

 _______________________________________________________________

Meanwhile, after having his wrists checked and bandaged by April in the ER, Owen stood in the NICU beside their daughter’s incubator staring at the baby. Their daughter looked exactly like Amelia, and it tugged at his heart. The little girl had yet to have a name. They had reached a joint decision to name her after she was born, as they wanted to see her little face before giving her a name. Her incubator was labelled ‘ Baby Girl Hunt’.

The baby shifted, and as if sensing that her father was looking at her, opened her blue eyes and stared back at him.

At that very moment, his heart melted. She was the most beautiful little girl he had ever seen.

He stuck his finger into the incubator hole and stroked her tiny hand softly, awed by how perfect she was.

‘ Hey little princess.’ he whispered. ‘ I’m your daddy. I love you so so much. I know you don’t have a name yet. We’ll wait until mommy gets better and we’ll give you a beautiful name, ok?’

The baby continued looking at him with her blue eyes which mirrored both her parents’.

She then gave a tiny yawn and closed her eyes.

Owen smiled, marveling at the tiny being he and Amelia created. She really was Amelia’s clone.

‘ You look so much like your mother, do you know that?’ he whispered as he gently adjusted her cap which was covering her dark hair. ‘ I wish you can meet her, but she needs to get better first. Be patient ok? She’ll be really amazed when she sees you.’

‘ Your mommy is the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met. She’s so smart, talented, kind, loving and funny. You’ll grow up to be like her, wouldn’t you?’ he continued as the baby slept.

‘ Your mommy and I have been waiting so long to meet you. And now that you’re finally here- we love you so much.’ he added as he continued stroking her tiny hand.

‘ Hey Dr Hunt.’ Maddie, one of the nurses working in the NICU greeted him. ‘ Congrats, your daughter is beautiful! Do you have a name for her yet?’

‘ No, not yet.’ Owen shook his head sadly. ‘ We’re waiting for my wife to get better first.’

‘ Oh- is your wife ok?’ she asked concerned.

‘ She had been in an accident.’ Owen answered, still focusing his attention on his baby. ‘ But she’s stable now.’

‘I’m so sorry to hear that. I hope she recovers soon.’ Maddie said sympathetically.

Just then, the baby opened her eyes and began to wail loudly.

‘ I think she’s hungry.’ Maddie suggested. ‘When your wife gets better, she can breastfeed. We’ll give her formula in the meantime.’

‘ If she gets better.’ Owen thought to himself as he continued staring at his daughter.

_______________________________________________________________

Amelia opened her eyes to the sound of soft snores coming from her bedside. She winced as she tried adjusting her position, causing a sharp pain to radiate through her abdomen.

She turned her head to the right to find Owen dozed off in a reclining chair by her bedside.

He looked tired and worn out, his hair was in a mess, and he was still wearing the same clothes . It seemed like he hadn’t showered or slept well.

She felt a sudden surge of pity for him. If he was really her husband as he claimed to be, he seemed to be such a kind, loving and caring husband. It made her feel so bad for not being able to remember a single detail about her relationship with him.

She stared at him for a long moment, willing a memory, any memory at all about them both together to return to her. But her mind drew a total blank.

As if sensing that she was looking at him, he opened his eyes, rubbing them. She could see the dark rings under his eyes, indicating that he had not been sleeping much lately.

His face lit up as he saw her looking at him.

‘ Amelia’ he whispered, taking her hand in his. ‘Are you ok? You feeling better now?’

‘ My abdomen still hurts.’ she admitted.

‘ Do you want more painkillers?’ he asked. ‘ I can call the nurse for you.’

‘No.’ she shook her head. ‘ I don’t want to get addicted to them.’

‘Ok.’ he nodded, respecting her request. He remembered her opening up to him about her battle with addiction.

A tense silence ensued between them as they both struggled to find the right words to say.

‘I’m sorry, Owen.’ she apologized in a hoarse voice. ‘ I really don’t remember being in a relationship with you or being married to you. But you seem to really take good care of me. I’m so sorry.’ she whispered, as tears pooled in her eyes.

‘ Amelia, it’s ok.’ he comforted her. ‘‘It’s not your fault, you suffered from a head injury causing you to lose your memory. You’ll regain it back in time, ok? Just relax.’ he added as he rubbed her hand soothingly.

‘ But what if I don’t regain my memory back?’ she asked as she looked at him with teary eyes. ‘ I recall that some of my patients never regain their memory back after suffering from head trauma.’

‘ Then I’ll remind you again and again about my love for you.’ Owen said softly but firmly.

Amelia felt tears rolling down her eyes as she looked at the man sitting beside her, who seemed to be really in love with her and was willing to stay by her side. She wondered what she did to deserve such a man, and she really despised the fact that her mind had erased off all the memories they had together.

‘ It wouldn’t be the same anymore.’ Amelia whispered sadly. ‘ I don’t have any memories of us at all.’

‘ I’ll help you fall in love with me once more.’ he replied earnestly.

Amelia studied his face intently. He had an honest expression on his face.

‘ You seem like a good person.’ she noted. ‘ I must have done something right to deserve you in my life.’

Owen chuckled. It seemed like her sense of humor was still intact.

‘ Well, if you say so then maybe I am.’ he winked at her.

Just then, nurse Debbie entered the room.

‘ How are you feeling, Dr. Shepherd?’ she asked kindly. ‘ How’s your pain score now?’

‘ From the scale of 1-10, a 5 to 6.’ Amelia answered.

‘ Well good, it’s better than the 8 you gave me when I last checked on you.’ the nurse said cheerfully as Amelia gave her a small smile.

‘ Ok, I’m going to check your C-section wound.’ Debbie informed. ‘Dr. Robbins wants to know if they’re any signs of infection.

‘ Right your wound is clean and dry.’ the nurse ascertained cheerfully after the inspection. . ‘ I’ll inform Dr. Robbins. She’ll come to check on you herself in a short while.’

Amelia nodded in reply.

There was a knock on the room door.

‘ Shepherd, how are you feeling now? Look who’s here to see you.’ Alex Karev announced as he pushed the incubator to Amelia’s bedside. ‘She has been crying for you and I think she needs her mother.’ he added.

Owen’s face lit up upon seeing their daughter.

‘ Hey princess, ready to meet your mommy?’ he asked the baby, as Debbie helped support Amelia to a sitting position so she could have a look at her.

Amelia stared at the baby lying in her incubator as the baby stared back at her with her blue eyes. Was this really her baby? She did indeed look like her. But weirdly, she didn’t feel any connection towards the baby. She didn’t feel the special bond that mothers feel whenever they see their babies for the first time. She felt like she was looking at someone else’s baby.

She blinked back tears in her eyes as she turned her head away from the incubator.

‘ Please take her out of here.’ she ordered in a cold tone.

Upon seeing his wife’s reaction, Owen’s heart sank once again.

  Again- comments, reviews, reblogs and messages are very much appreciated. I would really love to hear from you guys- please do let me know what you think!! <3

[itsokaytheyrejustwords-blog]

A Beautiful Year

below the cut is the short story that i wrote.  i know it is pretty rough right now.  i know it needs a lot of work.  i’m going to edit it a lot, don’t worry.  still, the content is important to me since it’s an expression of how i’ve come to love writing again after a long struggle with my mentality, so i wanted to paste this draft version here, and if anyone has feedback (good or bad), i would love to know your thoughts!

i’ll post the final draft whenever it’s done!

Rafa and I met when we were both on our way back to campus from the airport, on the train. I felt broken and just wanted to hide from the world, which I thought was fitting considering the way it was raining outside, and she turned to me so suddenly that I thought she was angry. That was pretty common when it came to me on trains on account of the amount of fat on my body and its tendency to intrude on my seat-neighbor's space.

Instead, she said, "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

I'd planned on ignoring the insult I expected to hear, but when it didn't come I responded more instinctively. "Hardly."

The girl was immediately defiant, and I immediately regretted my decision to talk. "On what grounds?"

"It's r-raining," I said, reluctantly, trying to keep the response short, but apparently it wasn't short enough. The girl didn't seem phased, though, and simply raised her eyebrows as if to say "so what." So I risked continuing. "On what g-grounds is it beautiful?"

"It's a perfect day for writing!" She grinned, and pulled out a journal with a pencil in its spine. It was the same kind his sister used for her writing, cheap and plain and black, but clearly well-loved nonetheless. I knew I shouldn't, I knew it would only lead to a let down, but I couldn't stop myself from speaking up again.

"You're a wr-writer?"

"Sure am! My roommate Erinne says it's the source of my life force."

"Is she r-right?"

"Probably," she giggled. Then she reached out her hand. "I'm Rafa!"

"Jasper," I said. I tried to grab her hand, but my own mercilessly resisted the action.

"Oh!" Rafa pulled her hand back, apparently noticing my hesitation. "You don't like touch, huh? That's my bad, sorry!"

"Ah," I stalled, because that was my line, normally, and I couldn't think of an alternative response for a moment. "It's f-fine. N-Nice to m-meet you. Are you g-going to the university, too?"

"Sure am! You too? What're you studying?"

"Journalism, for editing. You?"

"Wow, editing, huh? That's awesome. I'm studying Creative Writing," she said, holding the pencil up again. "Speaking of, I ought to get back to it!"

She opened the notebook, and almost instantly her pencil was flying across the page, and it seemed that the conversation was over. That should have been perfectly fine with me, but once I'd started watching her write, I found myself unable to stop and a chill scampered up my spine. The only other person who'd had that effect on me was my twin sister, Jet, and she was the best writer I knew. I'm not normally one to offer my editing skills to strangers, but her likeness to my sister made too compelling argument to deny.

"Hey," I said, "d-do you n-need a proof reader?"

When she looked up, it was like she was coming out of some sort of trance, and it took a moment from her expression to go from confused to appreciative. Then she shook her head. "Thanks for the offer, I do appreciate it, but, well, I don't let people read my stuff."

"Why? I c-can t-tell you're g-good, I'm sure of it."

Out of all the things I'd said, I figured that one was the least likely to offend, so I hadn't hesitated at all, but I immediately regretted it. Her entire face seemed to darken, and she didn't even bother to respond.

"I m-mean, you'll n-need t-to share if you're m-majoring in C-Creative Wr-Writing, ri-right?" Of course that was the wrong thing to say, but I'd hit the point where I realized I should just keep my mouth shut and my stuttering went out of control. Unfortunately, once I get to that point, I ramble without restraint almost as bad as a stutter, so I kept going. Knowing exactly what was going on, I tried my utmost to swallow my words, but when Rafa didn't respond and went on writing, the urge to talk only became stronger.

"I'm sorry," I said, finally. "I d-don't m-mind. Just d-do what's c-comfortable for you. B-But m-maybe I c-can g-give you my phone number in case you need a proofreader in the future. I really love editing, and I won't judge, I promise."

It was one of the hardest things I've ever made myself say, but it seemed to pay off. Rafa still didn't speak, but that seemed more due to the fact that she was absorbed in writing than holding a grudge, since she offered me her phone with her left hand while the other kept writing.

The phone wasn't locked, so I went ahead and entered my number. When I tried to hand it back to her, Rafa didn't move, so I held on to it for the remainder of the train ride. Neither of us spoke; Rafa wrote, listening to the rain; I listened to the rhythmic scratch of her pencil on the paper and eventually dozed off.

As the train slowed, I woke up and Rafa was still writing like mad. I nudged her, and again it took a moment for the haze to clear from her eyes. When it did, the peaceful smile on her face remained.

She thanked me when I handed her phone back, and told me she'd text me. Still, I didn't actually think she would until she did, no more than six minutes after we parted ways, although it wasn't about editing. It was a statement:

hi jas, i just got back to my room. now that we're friends, we should hang out. let me know when you're free

p.s. please don't think i'm a freak for calling you my friend already. i wanted to be friends with you because i think you're cool, but we don't have to be if you don't want to

After all of Rafa's surprises, I was less shocked when, after three days passed and I had yet to reach out, she sent me her address and told me to come to her place.

As much as I had enjoyed spending the train ride with her, I was tempted to refuse the offer, simply because it meant I would have to leave my room and encounter other people. However, at about that time, my roommate returned with his older sister, and suddenly the last thing I wanted was to be in my room.

It wasn't that either of them were terrible people. It was just that Spenser was a terrible roommate in the sense that he left dirty dishes around for weeks, he left his dirty laundry on my bed, and he often came back to the room drunk. In fact, the day he'd moved in, he had tried to drink in the room, but I'd shut that down. He'd fired back that I ought to worry about my own problems and get out of the room more often because being holed up alone was unhealthy, but he never brought alcohol into the room again after I threatened to call the police on him and that was what mattered. In comparison, his sister was a godsend, often stopping by to put him in his place and clean up some of the mess he'd made, but she not only reminded me that Jet was so far away, but was also one of the most intimidating people I had ever met. Thus, I refused to talk to her altogether. Suffice to say, the chance to leave my room was suddenly welcome.

After that, I spent a lot of time at Rafa's place. Her roommate was out quite a bit (to her disappointment, since she very much desired for me to meet her; apparently they were best friends) and mine was around, and with his sister, far too often for my liking.

Meanwhile, my own sister, my twin with whom I'd spent my whole life, was on the other side of the country, at another school, on a full ride scholarship, but and was too busy to talk. It was, cliché as it sounds, as if I'd lost half of myself when we went our separate ways.

Fortunately, spending time with Rafa helped with that, too. They didn't look a thing alike, but something about her and Jet's mannerisms were similar enough that being around Rafa calmed me in the same way Jet always had. Moreover, whenever I saw Rafa around campus, she was happy, and it was the sort of happiness that was genuine and deep and contagious, even from a distance.

All in all, being friends with Rafa made those last few weeks of my first semester at college as painless as possible.

At the end of that semester, she asked me to read some of what she'd written. It was, as expected, outstanding, and I told her as much, but instead of being glad, or relieved, as I'd expected she'd be, Rafa's face darkened in the same way it had on the train when we'd met. Just like then, she became uncharacteristically quiet.

"Raf?" I didn't know what to say, and made an attempt at changing the conversation that just made the situation worse. "Are you excited for next semester?"

Rafa's first semester had been filled with required general education courses like Biology and Algebra, so I figured she would be excited to get into the writing courses. I was wrong.

"I'm nervous," she said, more quietly than I'd ever heard her speak.

"About what p-people will say about your writing?"

She nodded.

"I d-don't think you have to worry about that. That's why you had me read something of yours, right? It think you're terrific," I said. Then, for good measure, I added, "You d-definitely chose the r-right thing to study.

"Thanks," she mumbled. I thought I sensed a bit of sarcasm in her tone, but brushed it off as my imagination, and although her continued lack of enthusiasm was still concerning, I figured she would be alright once she got started and people confirmed that she was as amazing as I believed she was.

Once again, I was very wrong.

The next semester started off much the same as the last had finished, with me spending a lot of time in Rafa's room while my roommate was being a pain in my ass who was not only terribly unhygienic, but intent on rudely convincing me that I needed to see a counselor about my inability to talk to people I deemed intimidating, and Rafa still complaining about the fact that I still hadn't met her best friend and roommate.

Eventually, it got to the point that I wondered if she was just making this roommate out to mess with me, but when I asked Rafa, she told me that Erinne had family issues to deal with, so she was out of the room a lot. Not soon after I asked, however, Rafa stopped texting me.

It may seem strange, but after all this time, I had yet to text her first, and that in itself meant that it was impossible for me to do so after all that time. Not only that, but I figured it was my fault in the first place, for doubting her about her roommate. I should have known it was a sensitive subject by the way she always talked about Erinne with such emotion, but I'd grown too comfortable around Rafa and had been pretty tactless about the whole thing. Unfortunately, saying sorry is one of the hardest things for me to say, so instead, I kept my silence.

Three weeks passed without a word from Rafa, and I missed her all the while. I started missing my sister more than ever, but when we talked on the phone, it didn't have the impact I had hoped it would and I realized that I really missed Rafa. She'd become my best friend, which was something I'd never thought I'd have. It hurt all the more because I knew I had ruined it with my own two hands.

Moreover, my roommate was becoming more and more insufferable. His sister was around only rarely, and both of us wondered if she'd given up on him. He seemed happy about that, but I was certainly not, since it meant he got drunk more often and his mess never got cleaned. Then he sprained his ankle during some drunken escapade and he was practically unable to leave the room, not to mention terribly irritable all the time, and he seemed set on sending me to see a psychologist. As usual, I tried to ignore him, one day at about midterm time it got particularly bad, and I had to leave.

It was raining, so I took my umbrella, which was almost immediately broken by the wind, but the rain reminded me of Rafa, and even if I wasn't a writer, it was beautiful in that the rain was a reflection of my own emotional state, so I didn't mind too much. I ended up walking 20 minutes to a café off campus, which was pleasantly empty, save its employees and one other customer. As usual, I sat in a corner so that I had a view of the entire room, and set to work.

However, after no more than about six minutes had passed, someone else entered, and I looked up and made eye contact with her instinctively. Not recognizing her, I didn't realize my mistake at first. Then she made a beeline straight for me and I wondered if I was going crazy, because the person in front of me looked like Rafa, but she wasn't smiling.

"Oh, hey, Jasper, it's you," she chuckled, and it was the creepiest thing because still she didn't smile.

"R-Rafa?" It was the first time I stuttered on her name.

"The one and only," she said, her enthusiasm apparently completely gone.

"What's wr-wrong?"

"Nothing."

"R-Right. S-Sit d-down," I said, in a less demanding way than I'd intended, but effective nonetheless as she sat. I gave her the rest of my coffee and she downed it in seconds. I was about to ask again what was wrong when she spoke of her own accord.

"I can't write."

The way she said it took my breath away. It was as if her life force had been replaced by a black hole and the words sucked the oxygen out of everything they touched.

"What d-do you m-mean."

"I can't-"

"Why? It's a b-beautiful d-day," I gestured towards the window. The reference to our first ever conversation seemed to catch her off guard, and she actually laughed. It surprised her enough that she finally snapped out of her panic.

"Oh, Jas, it's terrible."

"I kn-know."

She smiled, and it was sad. "I think I'm going to fail my classes. I'll have to drop out of college. Do you think we can still be friends?"

"N-No," I said, and as I watched her face fall, I almost regretted it. I almost took it back. But it wasn't the same as the other things I had regretted, because as much as it pained me, it was what she needed to hear. "You're g-going t-to stay here, or else we won't be friends."

"Don't say that," she pleaded, now on the verge of tears. "It doesn't help."

"What would?"

"What would help? Nothing, probably."

I waited for her to correct herself, and sure enough she did.

"It's too much," she said. "It's the sharing, and getting feedback. I thought I'd be fine. I thought I loved writing enough by now that I'd be strong enough to take it. But I can't."

"What d-did they say?"

Tears again filled her eyes and I expected the worst. "The same thing as you, Jas."

That broke my heart and confused me. I thought I'd been nice.

"B-But-"

"Yeah," she said. "It was all positive. It was all, 'you're writing is fantastic, so you've clearly chosen the right path,' and 'you're a natural' and 'your writing is flawless, you were made for this.'"

"What's the p-problem then?"

"None of it is true!" Now the tears fell from her eyes. "I'm not a natural, my writing is flawed. There are so many people who are better at writing than me, how can I possibly have chosen the right path? I don't even... I don't even like to write any more."

I was shaking my head before she finished. "I n-never said your wr-writing was p-perfect, b-because you shouldn't be."

At that she looked up, and I nodded and kept talking.

"I wouldn't have a p-problem with you d-dropping out if you were. You're not here to be perfect. You're not even here to learn to be perfect. You're just here to learn, which, since you aren't a natural, is what you've been doing your whole life. In a way, you're a natural at that."

It took her a minute to process it, but I could tell by the way her back straightened that it made some sense.

"You're right," she said, as if the words were one of the Wonders of the World. It was only a moment before a bit of hesitation returned, though. She spoke in a whisper. "But what do I do if they say my writing's bad?"

I laughed. "You s-say what you j-just t-told me. 'You're right.' Then you ask how to fix it and let them help you."

"Oh!" And now the light returned to Rafa's eyes, her whole face, the whole room. She jumped up and looked ready to hug me before she stopped herself, remembering my resistance to touch. That made me vaguely sad, but mostly I was happy to have helped her rediscover her own happiness. "Oh, Jasper, I feel like I can write again! You're right, it is a beautiful day, and-“

She could have gone on for hours, I'm sure, but instead she froze and scrambled to answer her ringing phone. As emotionally expressive as she is, I'd thought I'd seen the majority of Rafa's countenances, but the way she transformed from thrilled to downright terrified caught even me off guard.

"No," she whispered. "No, Erinne, oh my gosh. Hang on, I'll be there. I- I don't know, I'll figure it out, don't worry about it. I love you. See you soon," she said, and hung up.

The calm she'd maintained throughout the call was gone in an instant.

"Jasper, what do I do? Erinne's brother- he's in the hospital, but I don't have a car, and you don't have a car, I don't know-"

"There are b-buses."

"Right."

It wasn't the best solution, but we managed to catch the next bus so that we arrived at the hospital in about 35 minutes. Erinne was standing outside of the hospital, and both Rafa and I recognized her immediately. Rafa, of course, saw her best friend, and ran to her and gave her a hug. I recognized my roommate's sister and took a step back.

"Oh no," I whispered. "Spenser..."

"Oh," Erinne said, wiping her eyes, "you're his roommate, aren't you? I'm sorry he's been such a pain, I'm sorry I didn't do more-"

"Er," Rafa whispered. "What happened?"

"Pills," Erinne said breathlessly. "But, he'll be fine. Medically, at least."

Rafa hugged her again, and Erinne seemed to deflate.

"I had n-no idea," I muttered, and Erinne smiled at me and didn't seem half as intimidating as I'd imagined she was.

"It's not your fault," she assured me.

"It's not yours, either," Rafa said firmly, holding Erinne's shoulders tightly. Erinne shrugged.

"Regardless, I'm going to be there for him in the future, Raf. I'm going to get him help."

"We c-can all help with that," I said, before I even knew I was talking. I couldn't help but add, "if you want."

Erinne nodded. "Thank you, I would love that."

---

A year later and we're sitting in the small apartment Spenser and I now share. It's been a long year; Spenser had to try out various counselors before he finally found one that helped with his depression; I finally took Spencer's advice to heart and found a good counselor myself. We’re both making progress, even if it’s slow. Erinne's been around a lot. So much, in fact, that I no longer fear her.

As for Rafa, well, her life force has returned to her, so she's writing as usual, and always around to remind us that rainy years, like days, are often the most beautiful.

a note to my editor: hi jas, i just finished this. now that i understand how learning works, you should help me fix this terrible piece of writing. let me know what you think

p.s. please don't think i'm a freak for writing it from your perspective. i wanted to write something i could learn from, and with you as my editor, i figured this was the best way for you to teach me

[wikitopx]

You are Freelancer? Do you need a job? How to make your resume stand out? This post will answer your question. Read the following.

Updated March 12, 2020

Creating a resume and cover letter can be tricky, even if you work for an employer and your career is pretty straightforward. For freelancers, it's even more complicated.

Not only do you have to grab the client's attention, pitch your skills, and prove that you're the best person for the job, you also have to make sure that the breadth of your experience makes you look accomplished, not scattershot. Remember, even if you never have an employee or choose to incorporate, you are a small business owner, not someone who's doing odd jobs.

Review these tips for writing resumes and cover letters that will help you get the gig, examples of both, and templates you can download to get your own letter and resume started.

1. Resume Tips for Freelancers

Here's how to make sure that your freelance resume shows off your abilities to best advantage:

1. Make a List of Everything You're Good At

Before you even start looking at resume templates or thinking about what you want your resume to look like, you need to remind yourself of why you're such an amazing catch for a prospective client. The best way to do that is to start with a simple list.

Include: 

Skills. This includes both hard skills, like software packages and computer systems, and soft skills, like teamwork and management experience.

Education and training. Go beyond your degrees and formal certificates. Professional training and classes that are relevant to your work count, too.

Achievements. Win an award? Graduate with honors? Publish a paper or acquire a patent or trademark? Write it down.

Accomplishments. Include projects you've managed or participated in, from website redesigns to business acquisitions to department restructuring. Don't exaggerate—and certainly don't lie—but if you contributed to the success of a discrete, tangible improvement at a company or as a freelancer, put it on your list.

Here's some good news: once you have your list, you also have your resume keywords. Used by recruiting management software, keywords help your resume make it through the filter and onto a recruiter's or client's desk.

2. Decide Which Types of Jobs You're Going After

And now here's some bad news: you're probably going to have to make more than one resume, especially as a freelancer. Unless you're only going after one very specific niche job in an industry, you'll need to create targeted resumes to apply to each type of gig.

To make this as easy as possible, think about what types of jobs and clients you plan to focus on, and then match those with your skills list. Pretty quickly, you'll start to see how many and what kind of resumes you'll need to develop. You can probably get by with no more than two or three basic resumes, which you'll then adapt further for specific clients.

Note: If you opt to create personal templates like these, it's a good idea to enlist an eagle-eyed friend to proofread each resume and cover letter before you send them out to prospective clients. Nothing terminates a nascent client-freelancer relationship faster than a cover letter with the wrong company name on it or a resume with totally off-base skills and focus.

3. Develop Your Elevator Speech

Now you know what you're good at, and what you want to do. Distill that into a description that takes a minute or less to deliver—in other words, about the length of time it would take to explain your goals to a stranger in an elevator.

Another way to think about this is as your LinkedIn-headline speech or your Twitter-bio speech—in short, it's the essence of who you are and what you want in a freelance career. Whatever you want to call it, this will be the organizing idea behind your resume. Depending on the format you choose, it might even go at the top of your resume or CV.

4. Pick a Style

There are many ways to organize your resume, but for freelancers, the challenge is to present your skills quickly, so that busy clients can't miss your abilities, without creating a confusing job chronology that distracts from your talents.

There are essentially three main ways to order your resume:

Chronological, by gig or project. Full-time freelancers who've been working for themselves for a while will want to dispense with the life-story format used by many job seekers who solely work for one employer. The organizing principle here is the order in which you worked on projects.

Combination, including your full-time employment. Newer freelancers might wish to do a combination resume, which includes both work history and skills.

By skillset. Also called a functional resume, this style highlights what you can do, not the order in which you acquired your skills or demonstrated them.

5. Be Ruthless

Your resume is not an autobiography; at most, it's a profile piece in a glossy magazine. Better yet, it's your most targeted social media profile—organized, precise, and directed unwaveringly at getting you the opportunities you want the most.

This means you need to cut out anything that isn't totally necessary, including unrelated job skills and accomplishments, no matter how impressive, and any projects that don't demonstrate your aptitude for the gig you're after.

6. Skip These Unnecessary Space Wasters

In fact, there are some traditional resume components that you can almost always skip completely, including:

Objective. Usually taking up a line or two of space at the top of your resume or CV, this is redundant after your targeted cover letter and costs precious seconds that potential clients could be using to take in your skills and experience.

References available upon request. You should definitely have professional references, ready to go—but you don't need to tell people that. They'll assume that you'll be willing to furnish them with contact information for happy clients and previous employers.

7. Show Your Work

In the olden days, graphic artists carried heavy portfolios and journalists toted binders full of yellowing clips, but now you can store your work samples online, via any number of free or paid services, and add your URL directly to your resume, cover letter, or application materials.

2. Freelance Resume Sample

This is an example of a resume for a freelance position.

Freelance Resume Sample

John C. Writer 423 Allen Street, Apt. 2 Pittsburgh, PA 99999 (123) 456-7890 jcwriter@email.com

FREELANCE WRITER AND EDITOR

Creating compelling articles, documents, and social media posts for a variety of clients

Award-winning Freelance Writer, Editor, and Social Media Manager with 10+ years’ experience creating online content that draws plenty of clicks, as well as elegant documents and articles for various clients.

Key skills include:

Expert in Online Traffic Analysis and Targeted Content Creation

Fluent in SEO Process

Have Written About and Edited Content on Men’s Health, Sports, and Parenting.

Can Create Internal & External Communications

PROFESSIONAL EXPERIENCE

MONDAY MORNING QUARTERBACK, Pittsburgh, PA EDITOR AND WRITER (February 2013 – Present) Founding editor of this Bloggie-winning, highly trafficked website that has been cited in Yahoo! Sports, Deadspin, Sports Illustrated, and even The New York Times.

Notable accomplishments:

Interview major sports figures in the NFL, NBA, and MLB for regular posts and articles.

Oversee a staff of 10 freelance writers and editors who contribute weekly content.

MENSMAG.COM, New York, NY FREELANCE EDITOR AND WRITER (June 2008 – February 2013) Contributed to sports, health, and parenting sections as a freelance writer and editor.

Notable Accomplishments:

Created targeted content based on traffic analysis, often producing most-read pieces on the site.

Edited copy produced by nearly 100 freelance writers through the U.S.

EDUCATION & CREDENTIALS

GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY, Washington, D.C.

Bachelor of Science in English Literature (3.75 GPA; Graduated Magma Cum Laude), May 2008

Certifications and Organizations

Certificate in Social Media Management (CSMM) • American Society of Journalists and Authors (ASJA)

Other Skills

Proficient in Microsoft Office Suite, including Word, PowerPoint, and Excel • Proficient in HTML

3. Cover Letter Tips for Freelancers

1. Focus on Being the Solution to the Problem

Why do they need you? Because they have a problem they need to solve. Your goal is to show why you're the best person to provide that solution.

This focuses your cover letter right off the bat. No longer are you thinking of your entire work history or even the skills of which you're most proud. You now have a laser focus on the thing that really matters: fixing what's broken, turning the merely good into the truly excellent, and saving the company time and money as you do so.

2. Format for the Bored and Busy

At its most basic, the freelancer's cover letter looks a lot like everyone else's. You need at least three paragraphs in your letter: an introduction explaining how you found the job or lead, a middle paragraph outlining your skills and abilities, and a closing paragraph indicating how you'll be following up.

Beyond that, focus on making your letter easy to scan. Bullets are your friend, especially when you're listing your relevant skills or projects that demonstrate your talents. Assume that the person reading your cover letter will spend only a few seconds on it, and make sure that he or she can see the highlights in just a quick glance.

Don't forget to include keywords, especially if your materials will have to go through some sort of screening software in order to make it to a real, live person.

3. Give It a Personal Touch

At least 60% of all jobs are acquired through networking, and freelancing is no exception. It's always better if you can have a mutual acquaintance pass along your materials, including your cover letter.

If you can't dig up a connection through colleagues, friends, family, or social media, take the time to find an actual name to include in your salutation. Avoid "to whom it may concern" if all possible. Generic addresses let the hiring manager off the hook. Think of how responsive you are to email solicitations from companies that can't even be bothered to figure out your name. (Not very.)

4. Let Your Work Speak for Yourself

Don't forget to include URLs to online clips, sites, or projects, or references to an attached portfolio of your work, along with an explanation for why these particular work samples are relevant to the company's needs. Don't include everything you've ever done, or anything unrelated to the industry or the company.

5. Follow Up, But Don't Stalk

Close your cover letter by letting the hiring manager know when you're going to follow up, and then keep your commitment—but don't continue to pursue the contract if things don't pan out.

If you don't hear back after your initial communication, or at the designated time of follow-up, it might be appropriate to try one more time, after two weeks or so, to make sure that you haven't slipped the manager's mind.

After that, though, you have to assume that it's not going to happen with this particular potential client, at least at this time, and move on. If you exercise restraint, you won't close yourself off to future opportunities to work with the company.

4. Freelance Cover Letter Example

This is a sample cover letter example for a freelancer.

Freelancer Cover Letter

Your Name Your Address Your City, State Zip Code Your Phone Number Your Email

Date

Name Title Organization Address City, State Zip Code

Dear Hiring Manager,

My former editor [contact name] recently told me about the senior writer position at XYZ Website, and I was excited to hear about the opportunity. I've spent the past 10 years developing award-winning, high-traffic content for sites like Mensmag.com and The Monday Morning Quarterback, which I founded and built to a top 10 sports site.

[Contact name] has told me that you're interested in adding a team member who can take XYZ Website to the next level, including incorporating social media, optimizing the site for search, and achieving consistency of tone and coverage. My experience is particularly useful to achieving your goals. I can:

Analyze traffic and target content creation to build page views. My content on Mensmag.com is consistently among the top 10 most-read pieces on the site, and creating and building The Monday Morning Quarterback has taught me how use analytics tools to chase down trends worth pursuing and build an audience.

Help you get that blue verified checkmark. I expanded the Mensmag Sports Twitter feed from 500 to 50,000 followers, including big names in the industry like Joe Sportsguy and ESPN Commentator. In July of last year, I helped earn the feed verified status.

Get attention from the people who matter. Whether it's getting retweets from names in the industry, boosting market share among the 18-34 demographic, or earning Bloggie awards, I have experience making great websites into excellent ones and getting them the attention they deserve.

I would love the opportunity to talk with you about the position and what I might bring to it. I've attached my resume and clips, and will email later this week to see if we can arrange a time to talk. Thank you for your time and consideration.

Best,

John C. Writer 423 Allen Street, Apt 2 Pittsburgh, PA 15106 E-mail: jc@johnwriter.com Phone: 412-555-1735

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