|A blog entry inspired while sitting with my notebook|
When I have a pen in my hand, it's as if my heart sparks and my hand ignites, writing furiously to capture the spark’s energy. I believe sitting at a keyboard and typing with two hands divides the energy; diffusing the moment.
Writing with one's hand is also more intimate. You must shape the letter of each word and thus are tied to the emotion of it. When you write with your hand perhaps you are never too ugly, because you would have to feel the ugliness in order to write. Maybe more vile words come when typing, because words come out quickly and are not truly felt.
The first draft of my novel was written on a computer. It poured out and was over. The second draft became the challenge. I hesitated to begin the second draft, for there was much work ahead.
I was camping with my family in Yosemite and re-drafting my novel was on my mind. Where do I start and where do I end? My mind woke me one night. Words were coming, I got up and found my notebook and began to write. The first words of the novel were being dictated. The words were much more forceful and engaging and I allowed the spark to ignite. I wrote for an hour before going back to bed.
The morning came and the camp began to rumble. I re-read what the spark and my hand had brought the night before. It was delightful. The new first chapter came from my heart and my hand distilled it, cured it and painted it with emotion. I decided from that point forward that if I felt trapped or unhappy with my writing I would go back to my hand and trust the words to pour from my heart.
*Post script... I was inspired to do some research after writing this blog. I found a great article on mental floss about the subject. It seems that I have hit on something and my preference for writing by hand should be trusted.