Of pen and paper

[Sorry about the blog being down for most of today. Bluehost migrated my sites to a new server running PHP 5, and that messed up a few things. But I think it’s all fixed now, thank heavens.]

I used to be able to live without writing. Sure, I liked it, but it wasn’t any big deal if it didn’t happen for a few days or weeks. It was something I did.

It’s not something I do anymore. It’s something I am. Over the years it has latched onto me, infiltrated my heart and soul, and now roams freely in my bloodstream. And I couldn’t get rid of it if I tried. (Mainly because trying would kill me.)

Words are my daily bread, my manna from heaven. It doesn’t really matter what I write, so long as I’m writing, etching words out on a scrap piece of paper with a half-chewed pencil, carefully inking them into my trusty Moleskine, or tapping them out on my Mac Mini (or whatever computer I can find).

You know, one of the myriad beauties of writing is that it’s so low-maintenance. Pencils? Cheap. Paper? Cheaper. And while computers don’t exactly run cheap, there are cafés that cost little and libraries that cost less. And all you need is Notepad or WordPad or TextEdit. Nothing fancy. (Drawing and singing and dancing are the same way, I should add. Isn’t it interesting how so many of life’s greatest joys are either free or so close to free it doesn’t matter? Money has very, very little to do with happiness. Comfort, yes, but that’s something else entirely. But I digress. :))

Getting back to writing, I find my head buzzes with revisions all day long. Over and over the words run through the mental mill, reshaped and reformed with each round, till they’re as smooth and shiny as I can get them. It’s almost like sculpting.

In the larger scheme of things, though, writing is more like pulling threads out of a tapestry. I pull on an end, and it’s short and ends after an inch or two. Another is the same way. Relentless, I find another loose thread, pull it, and this one runs a little longer — maybe three or four inches — but it too finds a quick and frayed demise. And then my fingers take hold of the golden thread. I pull, and pull, and pull, and a whole story, or poem, or essay comes out. Usually, even though the thread is golden, it’s still rough and has to be trimmed and dyed. But that’s part of the business; what matters is finding the right thread.

I write because it feels so good. They say that you don’t know what you think until you write it down, and while I’ve heard that enough that it ought to be stale, it’s still incredibly true. My thoughts are often vague and cloudy until I pin them down into real, solid, tangible words, materializing out of the ether. While I love talking in real life (whether face-to-face or on the phone), I think I’m probably most at home with the written word. It’s what I do best. When my real voice sounds muddied or pre-pubescently high, or when nervousness takes over and clamps my throat shut, I can still write. It’s beautiful. (No, I’ve got nothing against real life. I love the human voice. And those of you who know me in person know that it can often be fiendishly hard to get me to shut up. ;))

Now to figure out what my next post will be on…

You live! We (MEA) were so desperately sad without you. You’re so a part of us, now, Ben, that we just can’t quite keep going without you. Thanks for fixing this dear blog so quickly.

Aw, shucks, thanks. :) One of these days I’m going to take all my posts and publish them into a book, more for posterity’s sake than anything, but that way there’ll be something to read in case the blog goes down again. (As if there isn’t anything else more worth reading. ;))

My PC can pick up your blog but not my laptop, still says something about php file and nothing comes up.

I can pick you up on my laptop now.

I am a creative. I enjoy creating art, and writing. I draw, sing, dance… The computer adds speed to writing that can almost keep up with my mind. However, nothing beats the flow of fountain pen ink over a smooth high quality paper. Though I love papers of all kinds and even make my own (the artist in me), I love the smooth tooth of fine writing papers.

Writing is a way of life. I have about 40 composition books of notes and journaling, which slowed down when I got a laptop and a blog. Writing is not just a physical process or technical process. In some ways, the computer has accelerated writing, in other ways, it has a tendency to destroy the contemplation that snail writing brought with it.

Though email is quicker, I love a hand written letter and prefer to write them. Nothing beats the surprise of opening a junk mail stuffed postal box and find a personal note. Snail mail is a real art form. It was from all my pen pals, all over the world that I developed the habit of writing, and in a large measure developed my ability to read well. Oslo, Norway; Nice, France; Dhaka, Bangladesh; Ceylon, then Sri Lanka; Alberta,Canada; Bethlehem, Pennsylvania; Benton Harbor, Michigan, and Beverly Hills, California. Of course it was great because everyone wanted pen pals in Hawaii. How convenient for me.

Along with the writing, I enjoy the morning wake up calls, where an idea come pure to my mind and jolts me awake and then I find myself at a computer and my heart and brain flows out on the screen.

Though I love the flow of thoughts on paper, I relish the warmth of real face to face conversation, maybe over a simple meal, sharing ideas and heart.

As for me, while I do love the feel of pen on paper, I much prefer writing on the computer. I type fast enough that there’s less obstruction between mind and computer than between mind and paper — and yes, taking it slower can be a good thing, but for the most part I would still choose to write on the computer. The only real exception is poetry and (occasionally) letters.

I agree with the exceptions, and carry my portable tiny pad and pen for Epiphanies while away from electronic media.

I always have notebooks on me — two in my front pocket (which is why I have a hard time wanting to wear shirts without front pockets, and yes, I know that’s insufferably nerdy but whatever), and I used to carry a Moleskine in each pants pocket, but that was a little bulky, so I keep them in my backpack now. Oh, and I always have two pens on me, too. Just in case. :)