Yeah. A lot has been written about writing. Whole books. Shelves of books in bookstores and libraries. How to write. When to write. Where to write. What to write. Who is writing. Writing is an art. It’s a science. It’s a hobby. It’s a living (breathing, teeth-gnashing monster). It’s a construction zone.
For all the writing that actually gets written by people, I’d bet that a whole lot more writing gets done in the heads of the writers. I write in my head all the time. Most of the stuff never gets out of my head and onto a page. A lot of it drifts away on the ether before I get around to picking up my writing tools. The thoughts get lost. I retrace my steps, look in corners. Nothing. Vanished.
That’s why all the books say a writer, or a would-be writer, needs to write every day. Like a concert pianist needs to practice musical scales as well as the new symphony she’s learning; an artist needs to pick up paint brushes and slap some pigment on a canvas. It has to become a habit — that getting-down-of-thoughts. Start a story or an essay even if you don’t know how you’re going to finish it. Work on developing more than one idea. They may be able to inform each other. And find a way to work that makes it feel like a reward.
I have a pen that I absolutely love. I have written more since I got this pen two years ago than I did in the previous ten years. And I have clipboards scattered around the house, each with a writing pad of nice, 20 pound bond paper. There’s better paper out there, but this is good enough for now, on my budget. Most of the writing pads are about half used up. I tear out the pages when I finish something, clip them to yet another clipboard, and type them into a text file on my computer. I save the handwritten pages in a file folder in case I need to refer back to the original. I usually change some things as I type. Typing the first draft is something I only do if I know I’m just writing something short for my blog, or yet another job application cover letter.
I have a program on my computer called Dark Room, that I downloaded from the Web. When I open it, it makes the entire screen the dark gray/green of a turned-off television. The text is light yellowish green. In short, it looks like computer screens used to look, not like the gadgety word processing programs that try to make you think you’re looking at a 8.5X11 inch piece of paper. Using Dark Room simplifies the process of composing at the computer. It’s just me and the keyboard and the words, glowing softly back at me from the dark background. A friend and fellow writer once told me that reading yellow text against a black screen causes less eye strain. Maybe he was right. It’s odd, though, that I find it so much more relaxing to use blue ink on white paper than any computer configuration. Maybe this is more about reducing whole-body strain. I tend to build up tension all over (and heat) when I sit in front of my computer for very long.
I guess, ideally, I would be happiest if I could scan my handwritten pages into a program that could convert them to computer documents. Or I could just paste the pages into my blog as JPEGS and let readers decrypt my handwriting to the best of their abilities. But whatever I end up doing with the finished product, the important thing is to WRITE THINGS DOWN before they can escape.
