What we say in our head doesn’t always make it out into the world.
Mostly, thank God!
But also, we rehearse speeches and conversations in our heads—sometimes obsessively—that are pretty damn good.
All three of my morning readings spoke to cultivation of inner life. One spoke of acting friendly, even when we don’t feel friendly, because sometimes the practice itself softens the heart. Another urged vigilance over our emotional and spiritual well-being lest the dross of ordinary life settle over it. The third reminded me that cultivating inner beauty and good thoughts matters far more than cultivating appearances or public eloquence.
The takeaway seemed obvious.
Keep the inside healthy.
Which includes what I say in my head.
The funny thing is that so much of the good stuff gets stuck there. The comeback I wish I’d thought of sooner. The conversation that would finally clear the air. The speech that would set the world right if only someone would say it.
One perk of being a writer is we can put those on paper. Lately I’ve noticed in novels, television shows, and films the kinds of monologues I craft in my head. And I shake my head thinking, if only real people said those things out loud.
It’s a thing.
The Nooooo We All Know
My son has the tender “Nooooo…” heart.
You know the kind.
A character on screen starts making an obviously terrible decision, and they whimper, “Nooooo…,” already grieving what’s about to happen.
I’m reading a friend’s debut novel, What the Living Do. Even though this is a first-time and interesting experience for me (reading a friend’s novel), somewhere in the first three chapters, I forgot I knew the author. I was too busy whispering, “Nooooo…” at the choices—one infelicitous decision after another—her character was making.
I’m oddly divided between cringing at the main character’s choices and celebrating her agency and grit.
I won’t say much more because it’s a wonderful novel that deserves to be read, and I’m only halfway through. I still don’t know if Brett completely derails the train or finds a better way.
I’m not a fan of facile happy endings. If this novel ends happy, I can already tell it will be a pleasing happy. The characters will earn it. One of them might say that wonderful bit to set things right—the bit the real living only rehearse in their head—but, even if they do, the saying and the living it won’t be easy. It will be satisfying.
What makes you simultaneously cringe and lean further into a story? What is happening when you say, “Nooooo…” as the story unfolds? And what are the beautiful speeches, conversations, and comebacks that you rehearse in your own head—the ones that, if spoken, might just begin to set the world right?
©Pennie Nichols. All Rights Reserved. 2026
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