Paper
Of late, my “blog” posts have rarely made it off of the paper they often are started on. In the few moments when I actually sit still without a task in the week, I find myself thinking (which to me, means writing), and I’m rarely in front of the computer screen at those moments. That’s the whole point of those moments – NOT being in front of the computer.
But then, to share with the world, I have to transfer. And in the transference, what was once timely may become out-dated, what was once living may become a dead thing.
Still, I don’t want to let go of my paper. The rolling of the tip of pen over the blank space gives me a feeling of security that black characters on a white screen cannot replace. The ruled lines give me a structure that a bare document or post box cannot contain.
I love to look back at my handwritten words and see where the ideas really got flowing, and the letters lengthened and angled, and the periods became more pronounced. In re-reading a typed document I lose that. I have to rely on my memory to know if it was a great creative moment – and I forget too easily.
No, I do not hand-write everything. I am a product of my generation and have touch-typed at ever increasing speed since I was 15, but sometimes, when the thoughts really begin to flow, the speed of my fingers on the keyboard give me no help in getting them out of me. So I go to the pen.
And I write on paper.
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Fascinating! I’ve read that about other writers . . . some needing the click of the typewritter keys, others the yellow legal pad.