Author: Ryan Olejnik

Entry V: Scroll for Resources

Entry V: Scroll Down for Resources

I journeyed due east, chased not by wolves or wraiths, but by the more terrifying specter of bills soon due. I needed help—and fast. My only hope lay with the one they called the tea-leaf reader, a mystic said to dwell somewhere in these Freelands.

Why Freelands, I wondered? Given my recent experience here, perhaps it’s because everyone expects you to work for free. Either that, or you’re granted more free time than you can afford.

Eventide crested over the horizon like black ink spilled across a parchment—specifically, the one I’d just ruined while drafting a proposal. (R.I.P. page three of “Wizardry & Words: A Value-Based Pitch.”) Hopefully, there was a Kinko’s nearby—if those hadn’t all vanished into legend by now. It was too dark to keep traveling. I’d need to set up camp and make a fire.

Luckily, I had a Kindle.

Its warm, flickering glow illuminated a curious apparition: Six-Figure Freelance Writer: A Holistic Guide. The book, like the fire, burned with strange energy. They say the tea-leaf reader is a holistic guide of sorts too… Perhaps the universe was trying to stir something within me—besides anxiety. I’d continue my quest in the morning’s earl grey light.

Sponsored by… possibly magic.
Before continuing, you may want to equip this enchanted tome: Six-Figure Freelance Writer (affiliate link). Word on the wind is it boosts charisma and proposal accuracy by +3.

After daybreak (and a page break brought to you by our sponsor), I pressed onward in pursuit of my dream.

And truthfully? My dream isn’t to be a six-figure writer. I don’t even like the figure I have now. This wizard’s been putting on a few scrolls around the midsection—probably should lay off the Cheese Whiz sundaes. At least all this adventuring must be doing something for my abs.

I reached a vast, unforested grassland known as The Steepes. I knew I was close—the scent of ginseng began to sing to my nose. It was a welcome change from the spectral orchestra that had accompanied me for days, scoring even the most mundane sorcerer chores. (There’s only so many times a ghost can do a dramatic kettle drum flourish when you butter toast.)

In the rain shadow of a mountain range, I spotted a wagon, canvas-covered and sun-faded. Behind it appeared a middle-aged woman in patchwork robes, faintly scented with cinnamon and vellum. Teaspoon charms clinked at her side, and I could tell—this was a witch who read from book to book, from Coven to Coven.

“Greetings, wanderer,” she said. “I am Leafa Brewthorn, the Bibliowitch. Whether you’re seeking your fortune or seeking to write for it, I can be of service. I also serve tea, and my prices are not too steep. What’ll it be?” She sorted scrolls and poured from an unseen kettle.

Books floated midair beside her wagon—leather covers flapping like bat wings. Scrolls unraveled in slow motion, offering passive income advice in appearing ink. Nothing too extraordinary, until a small pamphlet glowed faintly and caught my eye.

“What’s this?” I asked, pointing with my wand.

“Great choice! That’s my Job Strain? Chai Freelancing resource. It’s free. Interested?” She raised her teacup and squinted—at me or the tea, I wasn’t sure.

“Sure,” I said.

“Wonderful. You just need to subscribe to my brewsletter, confirm your incantation preferences, accept this cookie—”
“Wait, cookie?” I perked up.
“Digital,” she replied with a sigh. “Oatmeal disappointment.”
“Ugh.”
“Allow push notifications from my crystal orb, complete a short familiars quiz, and sign on the moted line.”

I stared blankly. She smiled wider. This was what they meant by opt-in overwhelm.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll sign up. Just don’t make me verify my humanity through another hydra captcha.”

“Excellent,” Leafa said. “Expect a welcome owl-mail before oolong. Then just scroll down for resources.” She rolled up the scroll in a snap and tucked it back into her robe.

“Okay. Sounds good,” I muttered. “Hey, do you have any of that new bauble tea?”

There was a sharp hiss—like a kettle exhaling—and Leafa was gone. So was her wagon. In their place: a to-go cup and a mason jar labeled Leafa Tip.

I dropped five gold into the jar, grabbed the cup, and took a cautious sip. The tea? Hot. The advice? Lukewarm—but effective. I now had a growing toolkit… even if it came with spellbinding terms and conditions.

As I passed through the heath, a voice echoed from the canyon:
“When in doubt, scroll down. The answers are often buried beneath the fold.”

I just hoped her email wouldn’t end up in my spam folder.

Scroll Further (Optional Sidequest)
A lightly steeped collection of enchanted tools, spell-ready templates, and magical odds and ends for surviving the Freelands (and the inbox). Curated by Leafa Brewthorn and occasionally dusted by yours truly.
Let’s Scroll

May 9, 2025
Entry IV: The Elmployment Tree

My mana—along with most of my confetti—was nearly depleted after accidentally conducting an orchestra instead of, say, conducting business affairs.

The grove was a welcome silence after the chaos I’d just escaped. The orchestra I accidentally conjured had followed me for days, turning every minor decision into a dramatic overture. Ordering soup? Trumpets. Tying my boots? Violins. As much as I liked having my own theme song, things got dicey once they started busking—and one tried to charge me for a crescendo. That’s when I knew the show was over.

What replaced their music was no less magical: reaching into an amber-streaked sky was a towering tree, standing before me. Thankfully, it wasn’t sitting down—that would’ve been weird. Its sprawling branches filtered the light into golden ribbons, and fastened across its ancient trunk were scrolls and notices, bound by ivy and time. They trembled ever so slightly—not from wind, but as though stirred by the tree’s own breath, exhaling secrets inked in sap and memory… or sighing over centuries of unread résumés.

The ink began to swirl across the parchment. A whisper in the wind spoke of forgotten lore. But just before the final rune appeared…

Side Quest: Acquire the Infinite Spellbook

Every good mage needs a grimoire—somewhere to stash half-finished incantations, character scrolls, and a cursed recipe or two.

We use Scrivener, the spellbook of choice for longform storytellers. It organizes chaos, binds scattered parchments, and keeps plot dragons at bay.

If your stories are bursting out of boring old notebooks, maybe it’s time to level up.

Unlock Scrivener →

I had heard whispers of such a place—usually spoken in the hushed tones of folklore and freelance forums. Could this be the fabled Elmployment Tree? A living job board, tended by a whimsical dryad who offered quests in exchange for mana and coin. The kind of place where dreams were hired, not just dreamt.

I approached, expecting ancient insight—or at least a halfway legible font.

Instead, I found its bark plastered with postings—scrolls, flyers, and faded résumés—all layered like sediment in a long-forgotten archive. Each was more cryptic than the last, except for a small wooden sign dangling from a nearby root: “Out to lunch. Be back in 30 minutes.”

One tattered Wand Ad read: “Will pay 5 gold to polish my potion description.”
I reached for the scroll—only to realize, too late, it was the potion instead. In retrospect, that was a poor business move. I lost 2 HP per turn to poison and earned zero gold in return.

I staggered backward, clutching my stomach and my pride. From behind a nearby rock, a figure emerged—casually chewing what might’ve been a toasted lichen sandwich.

“Rookie mistake,” she said, not unkindly.

The dryad snapped her fingers, and a swirl of mint-green light wrapped around me. The nausea faded. My shame did not.

“Thanks,” I muttered, handing over 5 gold.

“Cleansing and sapling fees,” she said with a wink, disappearing just as quickly as she’d arrived—back behind the rock, which I now noticed had a mossy blanket and a cup labeled: “HR’d as a Rock.”

Once the nausea subsided, my staff’s crystal orb began to flicker ominously. Gazing into it, a vision shimmered to life: a talking parchment delivering an important warning.

“Beware of contracts sealed in invisible ink. Some vanish the moment they’re signed.”

That’s when it hit me—bartering spellwork for coin was far harder than casting spells for fun. The stakes were real. The poison, more so.

But I’d come this far, and I wasn’t about to turn back.

I didn’t feel like a seasoned adventurer—not yet. But I was learning new crafts by necessity. I forged a brand sigil. I studied ancient scrolls on affiliate enchantments and recurring incantation subscriptions. I even began to manatize my offerings.

No, the Freelands weren’t exactly shimmering with promise. But compared to the dank dungeons of my former manafacturing job, the path ahead felt lighter. And that, I realized, was worth a few poisoned potions.

I left the Elmployment Tree behind, but not before inscribing my URL into its bark with a magic marker—letting others know I offer free consultations. But first, I had to consult someone myself: The Freelands’ mysterious tea-leaf reader. Perhaps she could offer guidance on navigating this realm—or, at the very least, a warm mug of chai.

As the tree disappeared, sheathed in ivy and a tunic of dusk, wrapped in a whisper, a message reached my ear:
“If it’s clarity you seek, head due east—toward the next steep in the process.”

I couldn’t be sure if it came from the tree… or the last breath of a wandering woodwind, carried off on the wind.

May 7, 2025
Entry III: Dry Spell

After exchanging burritos and business cards with the Fenris, I continued along the path. The magic was still inside me, but it had started to fizzle—like the picture on one of those old cathode-ray TVs with bunny ears.

Let me just warn my fellow freelance magicians out there: do not try stuffing that rabbit back in your hat. The static discharge will make your hare stand on end.

What I was experiencing now was what I call a Dry Spell. And no, I don’t mean the kind of incantation a wizard uses to get stubborn nacho cheese out of his cape. I mean the kind where you wave your Magic Marker in the air, hoping to summon freelance work—and instead conjure an otherworldly orchestra that begins playing somber chamber music at the direction of your wand. Mistaking your magic staff for a music staff, they really lean into it.

The ink began to swirl across the parchment. A whisper in the wind spoke of forgotten lore. But just before the final rune appeared…

Side Quest: Acquire the Infinite Spellbook

Every good mage needs a grimoire—somewhere to stash half-finished incantations, character scrolls, and a cursed recipe or two.

We use Scrivener, the spellbook of choice for longform storytellers. It organizes chaos, binds scattered parchments, and keeps plot dragons at bay.

If your stories are bursting out of boring old notebooks, maybe it’s time to level up.

Unlock Scrivener →

Now, I enjoy conducting thematic scores as much as any mage—especially ones performed in the key of C. As in, now you C me, now you don’t. But what I’d really like to score is a paying assignment.

Unfortunately, many of the gigs I’d hoped for had either dried up or were locked behind gates that charged admission just to peek in. Pay-to-bid sites. Pay-to-read sites. And what happens if they reject your bid? Well, now you’re out of luck and lunch money. Not exactly ideal for a wandering freelancing fantasist.

I needed another way. But first, I had to banish the orchestra back to wherever all failed magic tricks go—probably up my sleeve.

For my next attempt, I tried what the scrolls call a warm, cold pitch. The idea was simple: find local businesses in the Yellow Spellbook and send them a kind, professional message offering my services. Only problem? I may have warmed the message a little too much. There’s a chance I accidentally immolated their inboxes. If I had to guess, the email went directly to spam—right between a curse removal service and some chain mail.

Perhaps the cold pitcher came off more oddball than professional. Whatever the case, I received no replies. Just the faint sound of chamber music drifting in the background.

Clearly, it was time to change tactics. Maybe pulling orchestras and microwave burritos out of my sleeve wasn’t the best way to leverage a client.

Maybe what I really needed… was full-blown levitation.

If I could make them inexplicably rise into the air, just imagine what I could do for their business. I could juggle their laptop, coffee mug, and stapler—simultaneously. They’d be dazzled. They’d be floored. Especially if I forgot to lower them back down.

Only problem? I’d need more mana.

I checked my wallet. Inside was nothing but confetti—and I wasn’t even sure how that got there.

So for now, I’ll keep writing these scrolls. Trying to monetize the magic. And occasionally browsing the Wand Ads, just in case someone’s hiring a wizard with strong storytelling skills and an excellent sense of pun.

And if the Wand Ads don’t come through, I may just try levitating the vending machine too.

May 6, 2025
Entry II: The Write of Passage

Fortified by conviction—and just a pinch of spite—I creep through the alleys of this villainous village, where every brick seems to whisper, “Clock back in.” It’s a place so emotionally taxing, I was always broke, exhausted, and one microwave burrito away from a full-blown breakdown. But now, my Magic Marker glows faintly in the gloom, flickering with possibility. Walking away was the hardest part—but the road ahead still looks like it was designed by a dungeon manager with a grudge. Still, I’ve crossed the threshold. Their grip is loosening—and clenched in my fist is the key. (And no, it’s not the burrito.)

By the time I set foot on the path, a new day had already begun to stretch and yawn—completely unaware of the existential crisis lumbering behind it. Having escaped the company compound, the heavy gate groaned shut behind me—sounding uncannily like my coworkers complaining about overtime… or how long it took to microwave my burrito. For a brief moment, I wondered if I’d made the right choice. Maybe I should’ve gone with the nachos instead? But I remind myself: when one gate closes, another opens—though sometimes it leads straight into a forest with no Wi-Fi. Beneath the pale morning light, I peer into the vast wilderness… and get the uneasy sense it’s sizing me up—and not for a job interview. Cautiously, I step onto the path. Somewhere in the thicket, a low, guttural growl rumbles. Or maybe that was me. Definitely going with the nachos next time.

The ink began to swirl across the parchment. A whisper in the wind spoke of forgotten lore. But just before the final rune appeared…

Side Quest: Acquire the Infinite Spellbook

Every good mage needs a grimoire—somewhere to stash half-finished incantations, character scrolls, and a cursed recipe or two.

We use Scrivener, the spellbook of choice for longform storytellers. It organizes chaos, binds scattered parchments, and keeps plot dragons at bay.

If your stories are bursting out of boring old notebooks, maybe it’s time to level up.

Unlock Scrivener →

That’s when the Fenris—a hulking, monstrous wolf—leaped out and landed on the path with a ground-shaking thud. Why couldn’t today have been Fenris Bueller’s Day Off? A Fenris isn’t your run-of-the-mill, bonnet-wearing grandma wolf. This wolf meant business. It might’ve even been the Wolf of Wall Street. No… this one wore business-casual khakis and a collared dress shirt, and he looked mighty hungry. I’m talking microwave-burrito-and-nachos hungry. My primal instinct was to run—but then I remembered: this is my write of passage. I needn’t be intimidated by big, bad business wolves. I still had my trusty Magic Marker.

And somewhere between checking my emails and scheduling a meeting, a brilliant idea formed. I raised the glowing tip of my Marker, and with a few bold strokes, summoned a glowing ad-scroll into the air:

Bite Into Boldness: The Burrito That Bites Back (But in a Nice Way)
Hungry? Hangry? Considering devouring a freelance wizard just to make it through your Monday?
Before you maul, try this magical microwaveable marvel—packed with savory spells, sizzling satisfaction, and 30% less guilt than eating someone’s career pivot.
Pair it with nachos topped with regret-melting cheese and a side of fresh-start salsa.

Why eat me, when you could eat better?

The Fenris licked his chops, thick ropes of drool spilling from his snout. At first, I worried the ad-scroll had backfired. Maybe he wasn’t just going to devour the burrito and nachos—maybe I was the dessert. With my newly acquired magical glow, I probably resembled a churro or something.

I braced for the worst. But then, with a low rumble and the faintest smirk, the wolf growled, “If you pair it with a Diet Prebiotic Soda Pup, you’ve got yourself a deal. I’m on one of those keto things. The missus says I’ve been eating one too many little girls in red riding hoods lately.”

I chuckled nervously and nodded, agreeing to his terms—though I made a mental note to never accept a dinner invitation at their place.

Compared to this towering wolf straight out of the pages of Monster.com, I felt small—outmatched, uncertain. Could I really stand my ground, let alone be someone who Dances With Wolves? But somehow, I had held my own with the big dogs. I might’ve even made a new friend… especially after the bellyrubs—mine, not his.

I didn’t have a map, or a job, or even reliable cell service—but I had a way with words. And that, I realized, would be my write of passage.

I guess the wolf was never really about teeth or fur. It was everything I’m afraid of: trying to break into something I’ve never done before, feeling like I don’t belong, wondering if I’m about to get chewed up before I even get started. I didn’t tame it, not exactly. But I didn’t run either. I made my case. I used my words. And maybe—just maybe—that’s how you start to carve a path through a forest like this. It’s uncharted territory—no Google Maps, no well-lit trails. Just a lot of burritos, a lot of doubt, and a whole lot of unknowns. But one thing is certain: you’ll never reach a storybook ending without first staring down a blank page. That’s where you begin. That’s where you find your write of passage.

May 5, 2025
Entry I: Unsatis-factory Work

Recently, I embarked on a magical quest to transform from factory worker to copywriting wizard. Sadly, this tale has no mana crystals, no Sorcerer’s Stone. There’s no enchanted elixir—unless you count a scalding cup of coffee brewed by a disgruntled witch.

It all began when I left behind the dark forge of rewardless labor. Armed with nothing but a freelance, I ventured through dungeons of unrealistic demands, dodging Giant Rats, fending off Assembly Line Zombies, and outwitting Quality Control Specters. Exhausted and depleted, I tried to remember what I treasured most, because the reward at my job was a Mimic—a monster disguised as a treasure chest, drooling gossip and mimicry.

Nearing escape, I limped toward the exit—only to lock eyes with the final boss: the coal-black stare of the Dungeon Manager. My stamina was gone. No twenty-sided die could save me now. One more blow and it’d be game over.

The ink began to swirl across the parchment. A whisper in the wind spoke of forgotten lore. But just before the final rune appeared…

Side Quest: Acquire the Infinite Spellbook

Every good mage needs a grimoire—somewhere to stash half-finished incantations, character scrolls, and a cursed recipe or two.

We use Scrivener, the spellbook of choice for longform storytellers. It organizes chaos, binds scattered parchments, and keeps plot dragons at bay.

If your stories are bursting out of boring old notebooks, maybe it’s time to level up.

Unlock Scrivener →

Then, I felt it. A spark. A spell forming. The magic words: “I quit.” In truth, I never gave them the satisfaction. I vanished—in true wizard fashion.

Fantasy or not, the details don’t matter as much as the decision. I had a dream, and it was time to make it real. The contract with my company wasn’t exactly spellbinding. Their words and rules no longer held power over me—I held power over words.

The Wordlocksmith was born.

Join me each week in this new adventure as I chronicle the magic, missteps, and metaphors of becoming a freelance Wordlock.

Each entry in this series is another page in a writer’s grimoire—one scribbled in coffee stains and overdue invoices. But really, it’s just me trying to make sense of this wild scroll I’ve unrolled.

If any part of this sounds familiar, maybe you’re one of us. Maybe you’ve already joined the Wordlock Order—without even realizing it.

May 2, 2025
What Is the Statute of Limitations for Personal Injury Cases?
A technical writing sample by Ryan Olejnik

If you’ve suffered a personal injury or been involved in a car accident caused by someone else, you may be entitled to compensation—but there’s a deadline to take legal action. This time limit is called the statute of limitations, and it determines how long you have to file a lawsuit after an accident or injury occurs.

The primary reason for this limit is fairness: over time, evidence fades, memories blur, and it becomes more difficult for defendants to defend themselves in court. That’s why acting within the allowable timeframe is essential.

In most states, the statute of limitations for personal injury and car accident claims is three years from the date of the incident. However, exceptions exist:
- If the injury resulted in a wrongful death, the countdown typically starts on the date of death, not the date of injury.
- If the plaintiff is a minor, the clock often doesn’t start until they reach the legal age of adulthood—after which they have three years to file a claim.
While three years may sound generous, legal professionals strongly advise seeking counsel well before the deadline—ideally at least six months in advance. Even relatively simple claims require time to gather evidence, build a case, and avoid last-minute delays.

Some states follow a controversial rule called contributory negligence, which may prevent you from recovering any compensation if you’re found even slightly at fault for the accident. That’s why it’s vital to know your deadline, preserve evidence early, and give your attorney the time they need to make a strong case on your behalf.
April 30, 2025
Make Movie Magic at ReelSpace Studios

A promotional writing sample by Ryan Olejnik

Dreaming of the next big blockbuster? Welcome to ReelSpace Studios, a production and post-production facility conveniently nestled just outside Civic Center, CA. Whether you’re filming a passion project or pitching your next Netflix Original, ReelSpace is where the story gets started.

Designed with filmmakers in mind, our fully furnished, plug-and-play office spaces let you hit the ground running—no IKEA assembly, no runaround. High-speed internet, secure access, and on-site staff mean you can focus on the script, not the spreadsheets. Need a break? There’s a café for caffeine-fueled rewrites, a gym (with optional personal training) to crush stress, and yes—showers. Because some deadlines don’t wait for a rinse cycle.

Audio hiccups? Our 2,000 sq. ft. sound stage is fully soundproofed and stocked with separate engineering and control rooms—ideal for voiceovers, ADR, or full-score sessions without missing a beat.

And the best part? You’re not just saving time. You’re saving money. Our shared-space model reduces overhead, so your budget stays on-screen—not buried in lease agreements.

At ReelSpace Studios, your vision is center stage. We’re just here to set the scene—because this is where scripts meet studios and cinemagic begins.

April 30, 2025
Have a Marine Christmas (and Hanukkah and Kwanzaa) at SeaWorld Orlando

A sample travel feature by Ryan Olejnik

If your idea of a perfect holiday includes singing sea creatures, festive fountains, and roller coasters instead of reindeer, SeaWorld Orlando might just be your next December destination. From November 14 through December 31, the park transforms into a wintery wonderland—even if Florida’s weather can’t be bothered.

This year’s Christmas Celebration isn’t just red and green—it’s inclusive, honoring Hanukkah (with traditional menorah lightings December 10–18) and Kwanzaa (featuring nightly kinara ceremonies December 26–January 1). So whether you’re lighting candles or just here for the light shows, there’s a celebration for every tradition.

In addition to their signature sea-animal interactions and thrill rides, visitors can lace up skates for outdoor ice skating at Bayside Stadium, then warm up with a photo op at Santa’s sleigh parked inside the Wild Arctic attraction. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer also gets a starring role in “Rudolph’s Christmas Town,” complete with life-size storybook scenes and a charming short film at SeaPort Theatre.

Sesame Street’s finest join the fun with live performances, while over 30 carols echo from SeaWorld’s Nautilus Theatre in a new musical spectacular. Top it off with an ice-skating show, lighted fountains, and the famous Sea of Trees—an illuminated floating forest that shimmers to holiday music across the lagoon.

Safety protocols are in place, crowds are kept in check, and for budget-conscious revelers, a Black Friday deal runs November 16–27. In other words, it’s a flurry of festivities without the frostbite.

April 30, 2025