Brain Writing or Ms. Brain has her way

It’s taken a long time to get to this point: fingers on the keyboard and a blank page in front of me.  It’s not that I don’t have things I want to write about; it’s quite the opposite. A stenobook filled with scribbles and notes sits beside me with ideas jotted down in haste on post-its, envelopes and the back of receipts. Things that kick around in my brain looking for a way out, but they just seem to appear at the most inopportune times… as I sit in a business meeting, drive to work, begin to doze off in bed at night. These are not ideal times to dash to my computer and express myself, so I usually resign myself to writing short reminders, if anything at all.

When it comes to most things in life, I pride myself on being prepared or at least as prepared as you can be in an ever-changing world.  As the daughter of an engineer and a nurse, I arrived in the world armed with the desire for effective efficiency, a hyper sense of awareness and the gene that makes one need to plan for everything.  I am a list maker extraordinaire, have a “ready for anything” bag that would make a Boy Scout bow his head in shame and can pack a car for a trip with amazing skill and brilliant use of space. No really, people have been in awe of this ability. They step aside and watch as mountains of must-have items are carefully arranged in the car and categorized on a needs basis. Will I need this en route or upon arrival? Or, I’ll bring this and leave it in the car just in case. I didn’t say I packed “lightly” I just said I can fit it all in.  I try to prepare for all types of things in life, but I never seem prepared to take care of my need to write.  I know, bad writer, bad caretaker of one’s soulfulness.

I have neglected my need so outright that my brain has had to find ingenious ways to create an outlet. Some people may call it day dreaming or an inner monologue; I prefer “brain writing.” Not a soft and flowing phrase I agree, but it aptly describes the must-be-heard attitude that my mind has developed. Ms. Brain looks at my hands in disgust and says, “Fine, I’ll do it without you!”

On my commute to work, stuck in traffic with no option but to wait, my brain takes pen in imaginary hand and has at it. Whole short stories form, characters blossom and morals pop out in bold letters, all because I looked over and saw a kernel of corn fiercely living the motto “bloom where you’re planted” right there in the middle of the median strip.

It’s as though my mind is taunting me. “If you don’t take some time to create space in your life for a creative writing outlet, I will harass you with incredible stories that you can’t write down and will forget before you get to a place where you can!”  Ms. Brain does make a good point and I notice that she really likes to use exclamation points to point to her point! It’s that must-be-heard attitude of hers.

For the safety of fellow drivers and myself, I sit with my hands clutching the wheel. Stop and go traffic after all is not an ideal time to pause for reflection and scrawl out snippets of this and that.  I try to make a list in my mind, remembering just how many items I thought about so I can make notes at the next stop light with a leaky pen on the back of a gum wrapper found stuck in my console.  I can almost hear my brain chuckling as the car behind me beeps to alert me to the green light. “Hee, hee, hee. Gotcha!” she says and my foot hits the accelerator and sends the piece of paper sliding beneath the car seat.

So now that I have the time to write, what do I do? A wise, efficient, practical writer would look in her stenopad and pick a topic. Not my style. I choose to gripe about how my brain finally put my ass in the chair in front of the computer. I’ll show you Ms. Brain, I’m going to break for lunch now!