On Being a Full-Time Creative

Cristian Mihai

It’s been almost six years since I decided to become a full-time creative. To write, to self-publish, to blog, to vlog, to create all sorts of content, and work on all sorts of crazy ideas.

Six years ago I chose this because I wanted my words to change the world.

What happened along the way? How did this journey change me?

What are the struggles of being a full-time creative?

Well, let’s find out…

They don’t say pressure builds diamonds for nothing

Psychologists claim that uncertainty is the most painful thing we have to go through. How we deal with the uncertainty of life determines our success.

That being said, being a full-time creative means that you do not have a fixed income.

Sometimes you earn a lot of money, sometimes you don’t.

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Astonishment!

TLP

Paul, an apostle—sent not from men nor by a man, but by Jesus Christ and God the Father, who raised him from the dead— and all the brothers and sisters with me,

To the churches in Galatia:

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, who gave himself for our sins to rescue us from the present evil age, according to the will of our God and Father, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.

I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you to live in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel— which is really no gospel at all. Evidently some people are throwing you into confusion and are trying to pervert the gospel of Christ. But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach a gospel other than the one we preached to you, let them be under…

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The Climax of the Ages

TLP

But the day of the Lord will come like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything done in it will be laid bare.

2 Peter 3:10

Here we are at the thrill-packed climax of the letter.  The thrills are not just in the action, but in the application that Peter gives us, so that we might be pointed in the right direction. Yes, the Great Day will come!  When it does, Jesus will come to judge… and in spite of all of the noise we hear today from End Times teachers, everybody will be surprised, for He will come like a thief… suddenly and without warning… and then big things will take place.

Since everything will be destroyed in this way, what kind of people ought you to be? You ought to live holy and godly lives as you…

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Flash Fiction Contest! Blind Judge TBA

 

If I can do a flash-fiction contest, you can, too! Give it a try! The link to my friend’s blog with the details is below (you have until Oct. 12).

Here’s mine: (300 words max allowed) Halloween Date Night

The elusive they say opposites attract. Herman didn’t know who they were.
He looked over his phantom face in the mirror. The stitches holding his smile broke. Rotten teeth were a turn-off for most women.
“What sort of zombie puts a profile on a dating site?”
It was done on a dare. Who says the undead can’t have a life? Ed, ever a charmer and a drunk in this half-afterlife, told Herman he would be happier if he went out more. Halloween was coming. She would think Herman was a brilliant costume.
This she was as elusive as the they who made ridiculous claims like opposites attract.
Herman pulled up to her house in his 1966 Chevy on Halloween. She glowed with the setting sun as she stepped outside like an angel meant to take him to Heaven.
Heaven isn’t for zombies who eat brains, even reformed zombies, thought Herman. If he had a beating heart, it would have thumped out of his tattered chest beneath his new clothes.
“The clothes,” said Ed, “were important. You can’t go around looking completely dead.”
He already rigid body stiffened as he remembered his manners, exited the car, and opened the passenger door.
The light of Heaven shone down with her smile. “Happy Halloween…Herman.”
“Hello, Brenda.” He shouldn’t have gorged on a stray cat’s brains before coming here, a chunk of grey matter lodged in his throat. “Where to?”
“You look like a vintage kinda guy. There’s a malt shop in town. You know it?”
He nodded.
A little while later, they shared a table and a strawberry shake. She leaned into him and took his hand. He twitched, trying to pull away.
Yet she was as cold as him.
She giggled. “Don’t worry, Herman. It’s Halloween. This is all a costume.”

via Flash Fiction Contest! Blind Judge TBA

Flash Fiction Contest! Blind Judge TBA

 

If I can do a flash-fiction contest, you can, too! Give it a try! The link to my friend’s blog with the details is below (you have until Oct. 12).

Here’s mine: (300 words max allowed) Halloween Date Night

The elusive they say opposites attract. Herman didn’t know who they were.
He looked over his phantom face in the mirror. The stitches holding his smile broke. Rotten teeth were a turn-off for most women.
“What sort of zombie puts a profile on a dating site?”
It was done on a dare. Who says the undead can’t have a life? Ed, ever a charmer and a drunk in this half-afterlife, told Herman he would be happier if he went out more. Halloween was coming. She would think Herman was a brilliant costume.
This she was as elusive as the they who made ridiculous claims like opposites attract.
Herman pulled up to her house in his 1966 Chevy on Halloween. She glowed with the setting sun as she stepped outside like an angel meant to take him to Heaven.
Heaven isn’t for zombies who eat brains, even reformed zombies, thought Herman. If he had a beating heart, it would have thumped out of his tattered chest beneath his new clothes.
“The clothes,” said Ed, “were important. You can’t go around looking completely dead.”
He already rigid body stiffened as he remembered his manners, exited the car, and opened the passenger door.
The light of Heaven shone down with her smile. “Happy Halloween…Herman.”
“Hello, Brenda.” He shouldn’t have gorged on a stray cat’s brains before coming here, a chunk of grey matter lodged in his throat. “Where to?”
“You look like a vintage kinda guy. There’s a malt shop in town. You know it?”
He nodded.
A little while later, they shared a table and a strawberry shake. She leaned into him and took his hand. He twitched, trying to pull away.
Yet she was as cold as him.
She giggled. “Don’t worry, Herman. It’s Halloween. This is all a costume.”

via Flash Fiction Contest! Blind Judge TBA

Moody Blues

writing to freedom

I discovered a new style of poetry from Vashi’s blog called a Sidlak. It’s a structured poem consisting of 5 lines with 357syllables for the first four lines and a color for the last line. The color describes the whole poem or feelings of the writer. Here is Vashit’s Sidlak called craving.

Moody BluesMoody Blues, poetry

~

sliding down

endless days and nights

filled with the haze of sadness

pain wraps around my heart like a vice

moody blues

~

Thankfully, I’m not stuck in depression like I was for many years. I’ve learned that resisting my feelings or life circumstances only makes them stronger. Now, it’s more like brief visits from an old nemesis. We know each other, we give our best, and we dance around for a while. With more practice, I want to embrace the blues as a friend in…

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