Tag: Wordlock Order

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