Writing By Hand

In today’s digital world it is most likely that ink never hit paper before your eyes digest whatever it is you read.  Take this blog entry for example, I sat down with my laptop, opened Word, and started pounding away at the keys.

However, before I started this piece I had spent the afternoon reading through the myriad journals, notebooks, scrap pieces of paper, and one beer coaster (that’s another whole story) trying to transfer from paper, into electronic state, all the stories I’ve jotted down along the way.  Some were scenes that are meant to be in a certain screenplay I’ve been working on, others are parts of my novel, and the beer coaster brought back a fantastic memory, and a really deep belly laugh.

I know that computers have made a lot of things so much easier, and efficient, but there is just something about holding a pen in your hand, pressing it onto paper and hearing your own voice as you see it flow through your fingers and mark the page.  It’s certainly more romantic than listening to the clacking of keys, it’s prettier than a white screen with blocky black letters, and it is vastly more sensual than the feel of plastic under your fingertips and metal digging into your wrist.

I’ve found when I’m excited I grip the pen tight, and race through the curves of cursive so fast that when I go back to read it I can sense my eagerness to tell the story.  Or when I’m really lost in the beauty of a thought, my technique is more fluid (and legible) and tends to be more precise.

There is an intrinsic therapy in actually picking up a pen, and writing your thoughts down on actual paper.  And although I have done the electronic journaling thing, it’s just not the same.  When I need to heal a deep crevice of my soul, or release a fantastic story from my mind, the only way I can get it done is to put hand to pen, and pen to paper.