Epilouge for Chernowitz Creative Writing Assignment

I   felt   as   if   the   bundle   of   nerve   fibers   behind my   optic   nerve   were   about   to     explode   as   I   swerved   out   of   Anderson   Avenue   and   into   Centre   Street   in   my   rusty,   outdated   1986   cobalt-blue   Corvette.   The   tires   squealed   in   protest   as   I   slid across     the   bumpy   asphalt   like   an   intoxicated   driver.   Being   a   Secret   Service   agent   was   exhilarating   and   full   of   adventure,   but   I’d   love   nothing   more   than   to   kick back   and   relax   with Matty,   my   wife,   nestled   next   to   me   on   the   couch.   But my   wacky   motor   skills   were   the   very   least   of   my   worries.   “I have been meaning to talk   to you, Deputy Director Cherno.” alleged   my   employer,   president   Bill Clinton   on   that   faithful day.   “What about?” I   implored,   a   tinge   of   worry   blossoming   in   my   chest   as   I   plopped   down   into   an   adjacent   leather   chair. Clinton     fiddled   with   some   paperwork, shifted in his swivel chair, and spoke firmly.   “Bob…I have detected a significantly noticeable decline   in   your   performance   as   an   agent.   Needless   to   say,   it   worries   me,   Bob.   It   worries   me.   It   worries   me   that   I   cannot   sleep   well   at   night   knowing   that   America could   possibly   plunge   into   turmoil   due   to   recklessness   on   your   part.”   I was   utterly flabbergasted.   Me?   Reckless?   What a pompous statement!   “With   all   due   respect   sir   ,   I   am   absolutely   positively   not   reckless.   Not   to   burst   your   bubble,   but   I   happen   to   be   one   of   the   most   seasoned   practitioners   in   this   agency!”   I   quibbled,   undoubtedly   stretching   the   truth   a   little. Bill   simply     waved   a hand   dismissively   and   keyed   in   a   few   sequences   into   the   database   of   his   computer. “   As   much   as   it

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Creative Ideas

The Game Changer in the process of emerging a thought leader

Creative Ideas –
The Game Changer in the process of emerging a thought leader

"All achievements, all earned riches, have their beginning in an idea." - Napoleon Hill Mahindra Group is a pool of treasure (Creative Ideas can be termed as treasure in the current corporate scenario) but the digging has to be done to unveil it. Creative thinking is an innate ability in each of us. If you have a brain that functions fairly well you can dream up new ideas. It’s that simple. Three steps for digging the treasure: ? ? ? Help the Associates to understand that they are creative Make the associates to contribute Ideas Implement the ideas

Help the Associates to understand that they are creative
"Nearly every man who develops an idea works it up to the point where it looks impossible, and then he gets discouraged. That's not the place to become discouraged." - Thomas Edison There are quite a few people in the world today who believe that they’re not creative, that they simply cannot think creatively, and that no matter what they do they’ll forever be a straightshooting analytical thinker. You might be one of those people. It’s just not true to believe that anyone can’t be creative. Consider the child who plays with a toy where they have to fit small, cylindrical shapes into holes in a box. The holes are cut in a way that they will only allow one (or two, if you’re really creative) of the shapes into each. One is shaped as a circle, another a square, another a star, and so on. If you leave the child alone to play with the toy, eventually she’ll figure out how to get the right pieces into the right holes, without any intervention from a more-knowledgeable adult. That’s creativity in action: finding an idea or solution that works by experimenting and playing. And yet, there are still so many people who believe they just can’t do it. When...

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The Sniper Creative Response

Below is a free essay on "The Sniper Creative Response" from Anti Essays, your source for free research papers, essays, and term paper examples.

The last six months had been darker than night itself.
War had erupted, broke free of the dark shackles holding it down.   The world he knew had been turned completely split into two. Republicans, Free staters, it didn’t matter whose side you were on you knew your time was coming eventually. Except he knew his time would be soon, like a shooting star in the sky he would just whizzing by. He thought he wanted this, just for life to end quickly, painlessly without remorse. He thought he could escape the world he knows now, be free like that shooting star, be free of the mess he had caused. He knew no one, no one except his brother. His family had died when he was younger, well at least that’s what the adoption agency told him. His brother was in the same boat. He was young, scared and wanting to leave the hell hole that the war had bought down on them. He and his brother had the perfect plan, well at least the thought they did. They tried to run, run away from all the madness, all the chaos, all the death. They were almost out of their living nightmare, except no one escapes a living nightmare, no one. His brother was captured, dragged back into his hell by the free staters. However, unlike his brother he managed to keep running, away from the freestater. He thought he was free, he thought he escaped his nightmare. He stopped to take a breath, looking down at the red floor, he remembered the ground had never been that red before, the ground used to be a luscious meadow, with spring flowers and birds. A Truly beautiful place of peace and serenity, but now it was red, but not just red, the darkest red it could be. Blood and tears have been spilt all over the ground of this once great city. Darkness enveloped the world, turned it completely upside down. The once great city fell, religious people started to give up hope. They realised there wasn’t enough light to overthrow the dark. He started crying, crying away the pain of what the war has caused to him, suffering,... Read Full Essay

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