The Clockwork Mechanism Within All Things Story

If you want to drive a nail, use a hammer, but if you want to drive a screw, use...a screwdriver?

Let’s face it, we like drama. Love it, even. We say we don’t, then we are surprised when our social media algorithms start feeding us more controversial topics. In these instances, the easiest answer is to just blame the algorithm or the infamous “they,” as in the group that everyone blames yet no one can point to.

“They said we can’t do that.”

Who’s ‘they?’ And when and where was this said?

The thing is, we’re the ones responsible for the content of our news feeds. We feed the algorithm drama, where all the algorithm really cares about is to keep you watching. So, what happens? More drama.

Well, never you fear. That’s where this article comes in. I’m about to give you some drama. Some hot takes you haven’t seen elsewhere. Do I boast? Well, since you’re already reading, you can’t simply dismiss this as clickbait. So, why not stick around to find out what I’m going on about? Who knows, maybe you’ll don a tin foil hat and come over to my side!

My opening statement wasn’t an idle one. It’s actually central to one of my gripes. With screwdrivers, we’ve named a thing by its function. Or have we? The tool isn’t actually what’s driving the screw, the person holding it is. If you need proof of this, just set a screw with a screwdriver, then repeat the process with a powered drill. You’ll quickly figure out who did what and when.

Regardless of who does what in a driver-drivee relationship, this is simply groundwork before we take a look at a different sort of tool—writing. Now that the foundation is finished, how about we work on a bit of framing?

If you’ve been a “writer” and have operated in the writing sphere for any length of time, you’ll know that we all dwell in a house divided. Some suggest writing is art, while the others claim writing is craft. Well, this is where my hot take comes in. I’m about to waltz in, kick down this wall, and proclaim like the Kool-Aid Man, “Oh, yeah!”

Let’s talk art.

Chances are, you’ve heard of and seen the Last Supper painting. You’ve also heard of its author—Leonardo da Vinci, who was forty-three when he began this project. Then, eight years later, he started on the Mona Lisa. But da Vinci wasn’t just a painter. He was also a draftsman, a sculptor, an architect and an engineer. According to Britannica.com, he was frequently consulted as a technical adviser in the fields of architecture, fortifications, and military matters.

“Every small piece contributes to the whole.” - Leonardo da Vinci

Hold that thought.

Michelangelo Buonarroti is another artist you’ll be familiar with. At age thirteen, he began his first apprenticeship under his city’s best painter, but he wouldn’t begin work on the Sistine Chapel until he was thirty-three, some twenty years later. In addition to painting, he was also a sculptor, an architect, and a poet, who was considered the greatest living artist in his lifetime.

“If people knew how hard I worked to get my mastery, it wouldn’t seem so wonderful at all.” - Michelangelo Buonarroti

Have you caught on to the argument yet? Da Vinci had been painting and engaged in matters of creation for twenty-eight years before he began working on Last Supper, while Michelangelo’s own journey took twenty years before he reached his Sistine Chapel commission. So, you see, art too is craft. A painter doesn’t just wake up brilliant. I should know. I’ve awoke a great many times and I still can’t paint worth a damn!

So, this divide? It isn’t a divide at all! It’s just that the art crowd doesn’t know that they, too, are advocating for craft.

“Oh, yeah!”

The problem emerges when aspiring this-that-or-the-others automatically label their work as art. But the term ‘art’ itself is misleading. It’s a lot like ‘love’ and ‘music’ in that regard, all of which are hard to pin down with definitions and vary depending on who’s applying them. When it comes to art, the word is a lot closer to ‘mastery’ than most are willing to even consider. Working within a visual medium doesn’t automatically qualify your craft as ‘art.’ So, if you’re just starting out and affix yourself with a badge stating ‘Artist,’ why not simply switch it out for ‘Master?’ Either way, you’re making the same statement.

To avoid confusion, when I refer to art or artists in future instances, I’m referring to the visual mediums rather than mastery.

Let’s talk writing.

Early in my craft, I was so blind. There were things I couldn’t see, nor even identify when others directed my gaze to their presence—a true case of not seeing the trees for the forest. Yet, over time, I encountered the occasional Aha! moments, where some previous concept turned slightly—a cog’s spokes aligning, then sliding home to reveal its relationship to the greater clockwork mechanism.

When I hear another “writer” occupy a social platform, then proceed to instruct on “the one true way” to mastery, I get rather agitated. For my own path was so convoluted, I couldn’t plot it for another, not even with a mastery in plotting. A lot of times, it seems that repeated exposure, different vantages, or altogether different subjects are what lead to a lesson finding its place. For some knowledge is dependent on a student holding some preexisting information before the new thing can be understood.

If you need an example of this, just look up terms in a dictionary. Eventually, you will encounter a term, whose definition contains a word you don’t understand. Now, you have to define this new word in order to understand the original term. And once you do, the clockwork turns, both words dropping into their proper place.

If an influencer tries to instruct you in “the proper way” of mastering a craft, you can be sure, they’re not worth your time. On the other hand, there are well known and successful authors, who may strongly suggest how you can go about becoming successful. Each has their own method for exercising and advancing their craft. The difference between this group and the former is two-fold:

  1. They have seen success from their practice and
  2. They’re aware their approach is “a” path and not “the” path.

So, if you want to imitate an author’s success, adopt their practices and you will likely do so. Just understand that success is a term you have to define for yourself. You should also consider this:

“Imitation cannot go above its model.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

It’s my opinion.

If, by now, you’ve come to view me as any sort of authority on what I’ve shared, allow me to share and recommend something from my personal experiences. If your aim is to chase mastery, don’t adhere to any given path.

“In my walks, every man I meet is my superior in some way, and in that I learn from him.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Everyone, no matter their level of experience, has held some vantage different from your own. They may not know more or know better, but they surely hold some experience which you weren’t privy to. If a peer suggests a tool or a technique, at least consider it. Maybe even, try it out. Worse case, it won’t suit you, so you can just discard it and focus on what works. But never close yourself off entirely. In all likelihood, your own path isn’t a duplicate of another’s, instead an amalgamation, a cogwork assembled by scavenging components and building something new.

My own path.

I’d like to draw your attention back to a detail I mentioned with both da Vinci and Michelangelo. While they were both painters, they had several other creative endeavors. How many times have you been told to specialize and to narrow your focus? How many times have cats been used to scold and discourage your curiosity?

One day, I was listening to an episode from the Writers of the Future podcast, which hosts a wide range of guests and topics, all of which is aimed at aiding aspiring writers and artists. Echo Chernik was a guest on this particular episode. If you’re unfamiliar with her work, as I was at the time, she’s a very successful, award winning artist whose work covers a large range of styles. While I had previously listened to other episodes, no writer interview created a resonance such as this one. As you’ll recall, my chosen craft is writing, not art, so imagine how strange this experience was.

But why, you ask?

Well, it involves her path, which I’ve already shown you to some degree. Long story short, she wasn’t focusing on one particular, narrow path. She modeled some of her work after the styles of those she admired, learned new styles to suit the needs of clients, learned advertisement illustration, got involved in web design, and very likely participated in other adjacent styles and skill sets. It’s also worth noting that she recommends aspiring artists/illustrators, if they need to establish a source of income, pick something related to art/illustration. For example, go to work for a print shop so you can learn their process of laying out and printing illustrations. That way, you’re still exposed to your goal where you’ll very likely absorb details that can later feed your work.

So why did this resonate? Why is it familiar? Well, for one thing, the artists I previously mentioned had various adjacent specialties which undoubtedly fed their own works. But for me, it’s more so related to what I mentioned with encountering unknown words within definitions—your exposure to adjacent elements will bring you into contact with parts you can’t know will feed your future work.

My own professional path went the way of the soldier, the helicopter pilot, and the real estate agent. But I’ve worked on roofs and installed in-ground pools as well. I’ve also pursued knowledge and took a personal interest in philosophy, psychology, business, finance and several other non-fiction areas. Simply put, I did not overly focus my efforts along a narrow channel, and I garnered a series of experiences, all of which feed back into my storytelling.

Full circle.

So how does all of this relate to screwdrivers?

It’s relevant because of the title “writer.” You see, I don’t actually see myself as a writer. While I may refer to myself as one, I only do so in order to streamline a reader/listener’s understanding. It’s a term they already understand thus requires no further explanation. And while this may sound like semantics, none of us are writers. At least, not if we’re to be successful in the eyes of others. Writing is just the tool between an author and their story. As for me, I’m a Storyteller. Writing is just a thing I learned to better share my stories.

If you’re passionate about sharing stories and give this any measure of thought, it will likely alter your writing’s final product. Because it shifts one’s focus. So many of us get injured by the slightest criticism to our words. I know. I’ve been there. But consider this! What is it we’re trying to share? Is it words? I should certainly hope not. No, we’re intending to share story. Words are simply the vehicle in which its meant to arrive. If a reader provides advice that can help your story arrive more smoothly, that’s a boon, not an offense. When you realize and accept this, it becomes far easier to hear the criticisms of others.

My ultimate goal is to make my words as close to invisible as possible. That’s not to say I don’t care for them. I just understand that words are the shortest path in leading a reader out of your story. This is immediately evidenced by grammatical errors, which distract, causing the reader’s focus to shift in undesirable ways. When you focus on how to improve your story’s delivery, it completely changes what you pay attention to.

You might find that “writers write” is fine motivation in reminding one to be productive, but strive to be a great Storyteller instead of a great Writer—one is good at word production, the other at continuously rediscovering that “readers read.”

In closing.

If I had to give one final piece of advice for all creative endeavors, it’s this:

“Live. Live first. Live now. And do so curiously.”

With so many worrying over AI threatening to steal their potential work, you have to remember the old adage of “Write what you know.” That’s not to say that only astronauts should write about space travel. No, this is about people. The single thread uniting all stories—what it means to be human and to live alongside them. And what can AI tell anyone about that? So don’t venture overly far from your pursuit of writing, but make sure you venture far enough so you can return to share stories encountered along the way.

So, what’s it going to be? Will you choose to don one of my tinfoil hats? Or are you now of the belief that I’m operating with a few loose screws?

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I Think Therefor I am…Confused