Part 1 in a series on writing

making words work

Paul Gallagher

Producing words in a meaningful sequence is like bleeding inside a blood bank. Everything about your loss and subsequent transfer of vital, life-giving fluid is purposeful – aiding people you will never meet.

The export of blood is controlled, captured, intended. Every cell is bottled and preserved, transported via vehicles on asphalt arteries towards the physical veins of an unseen, needy flesh.

The cost to its giver is incalculable, though gladly offered without hope of profit. It is donated – more like, sacrificed – through the point of a needle.

Writers ‘donate’ their words

The telling of truth, the giving of words, is as a donation of blood to the needy. Like a book with chapters, each accumulated container is identified by the giver’s name, and charts a story of life that began with a date of birth.

Most critical, though, is the type of blood being given. For some, it’s O Positive, others ‘Negative’, and so on. Your type can determine the compatibility: Fiction, non-fiction, biographical, fantasy. Some transfers, though, are universal.

Once given, words – like blood – will intermingle within a distant recipient, becoming the domain and fabric of that person, built on and copied to spread unseen.

This is the first in a series of prose, poetry and essays about writing. Stay in touch by subscribing to my newsletter.

Paul Gallagher is an Australian-based published author (Penguin Random House), faithfully wheeling forward with Multiple Sclerosis; a blessed husband to my 1, Dad to 3, Granda to 2.