More On Writing

By the looks of things around this blog, you’d think that my writing is slowing down. But behind the scene (or should I say screen?), a different thing is happening.

I’ve started writing longhand again. Sometimes I type up a polished version. Sometimes not. I’m writing more letters – you know, the kind a recipient can touch, smell, and stumble reading through because it’s been a decade since he or she has read cursive. The kind with a stamp attached. A return address. A worn corner from spending days en route to a near or far away destination.

I’m writing longhand, in part, because I started getting anxious anytime I sat behind the computer. I type as fast as lightening, but my brain writes as slow as a rising, morning sun. And that blasted cursor blinks, blinks, blinks, and I want to slap it slap it like a red-headed step child – not that I would ever slap a red-headed step-child. If my fingers aren’t typing, I feel pressure. If my pen isn’t touching the paper, I feel patience.

No pressure, the paper whispers to me. Take your time.

And so, all the wicked-cute notebooks I received for Shaun’s Pastor Appreciation back in October are being filled up one sentence at a time. I enjoy this antiquated method of writing. It agrees with me. It’s as if I’m writing to a friend rather than a boss or teacher or … gulp! … publisher. So from now on, writing takes place on paper, typing and editing take place on ‘puter. One is creative. One is a necessary evil.

Three cheers for cramped hands and knobby, calloused, ink-stained fingers. And the trees. God bless the trees for giving up their life so mine might be richer.