Nuts, Bolts, and the Noise Within: Bleeding One Droplet at a Time

Some days the challenge is a question of mechanics—following basic writing rules, getting the language right, remembering that “accommodate” has two c’s and two m’s, or knowing when to use affect over effect. The nuts and bolts of basic communication.

Other days, it’s finding the damn time. I’ve got five minutes—let’s see what happens. Come on magic, time to sprinkle some fairy dust on the keyboard and do your thing.

Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo… Abracadabra… Wingardium Leviosa… Open Sesame… sugar, spice, and everything nice. Let’s go, let’s go.

. . .

If only writing worked like that.

Most days, it’s much more mundane. It’s sitting calmly in the noise—out in the world and inside our own heads—and figuring out what I actually want to say. How do I want to say it? Should the tone be light or heavy? Am I angry or sad? Do I have something profound to offer on the state of the world, or do I just want to poke fun at the middle-finger-waving driver who cut me off this morning?

It’s me sitting at the keyboard, giving myself a lecture. “Okay Brian, you neanderthal, pick up your knuckles off the ground. Forget about your to-do list and errands. Forget about the ten other projects you really should be working on. Instead, listen to your heart, open a vein, and let it bleed one droplet after another onto the page.” 

Writing is a constant friction. Let’s keep it real: some days I wonder why I bother. Some days I consider throwing up my hands in frustration and simply walking away. “Screw this. I can find better ways to drive myself crazy!”

But keeping quiet—letting those thoughts stay trapped inside—feels downright stifling. It feels worse than the struggle to find the right words. In fact, I often wonder how “normal” people manage without an outlet. How do they deal with the feeling of an overheated engine grinding itself to dust? The pressure building until something has to give?

So, here I am. Still tapping the keys.

Alakazam… I’m ready for the magic to happen. Fairy godmother, I’m ready whenever you are.

. . .

Hocus Pocus, Expecto Patronum, Presto and all that jazz.

Now It’s Over to You: Ever feel like your brain is running hot with no release valve? How do you clear out the noise when you sit down to write—or do you just open a vein and let it rip? Drop a line in the comments.”

Images by Pexels.