Writing in Longhand

A commenter recently mentioned that she'd been writing in longhand, and that certainly struck a chord with me. For a computer-addicted writer, I've written an awful lot in my awful longhand.

I had the good fortune, back in 1966, to marry a gorgeous woman who couldn't stand the peck-peck-peck of my typewriter—especially after our kids arrived, and silence in the evening was the whole purpose of getting through the day.

Far from being a career-stopper or a marriage-breaker, this was an advantage. While my wife sat and read in the den, I parked myself at the kitchen table with a loose-leaf binder and a ballpoint pen. I would scribble silently for an hour or two (or fifteen minutes, on bad days), and we'd stagger off to bed.

That looseleaf binder went with me to some of the most boring faculty meetings in Canadian academic history, and to my daughters' music lessons, and on holidays. I'd fill page after page, and revise passages with a quick horizontal slash through any line that wasn't earning its keep.

This was of course still the typewriter age; in those days, to change a page of typescript was big deal. But it was dead easy to cut and rewrite in longhand.

Better yet, I'd wait until my wife was out of the house. Then I'd fire up my IBM Selectric (with a way-cool correcting tape!) and transcribe my scrawls into clean typescript, revising as I went along.

It might seem cumbersome, but this was the procedure I followed for four or five of my published novels—and in those days I was publishing a novel every 18 months or so.

Computers of course transformed writing in many ways, but I still do a lot of writing in longhand. I don't have a laptop, and if I did, my wife would veto any idea of taking it on holidays. And I must admit that a couple of weeks of computer detox every summer is actually good for me.

That's why I still recommend toting a notebook of some kind around with you. With a laptop you may not have working batteries, or wireless, or an electrical outlet. With a notebook, all you need is a pen or pencil. If your dentist is running behind schedule, you can read some ancient magazine in the waiting room, or pull out your notebook and scribble some ideas for the next chapter (or describe your dentist's waiting room).

Some French novelist was famous for being unable to write unless dressed in a suit and tie, and writing on his preferred blue paper. Some modern writers can't write unless they've got the latest ultra-powerful computer, preferably a laptop so thin you could shave with it.

Well, I suggest you try out a binder with some filler paper. Write on every other line so you'll have room for changes, and don't worry about word counts or spell checking. Just get the story down on paper, and worry later about the printout.

Comments

[Don]

It also has the advantage of forcing a read-revise cycle on you. It's too easy when writing in a word processor to think that you've revised a work when you haven't. I like writing in the word processor, but I've found that re-typing a work is an essential part of my revision process, especially for the draft 1-to-draft 2 stage.

[E. Night]

The content is altered by the choice of tools. I've noticed that contemporary writers who began their careers back in the typewriter days became more verbose when typewriters were replaced by word processors. This is partly due, no doubt, to relaxed editorial oversight of a best-selling writer, but also to the ease of just typing rapidly.

[Jo]

Despite my love for the simplicity of a laptop to ease my waxing thoughts, there's nothing like using a favorite pen and journal to pen my thoughts. Your post was a lovely reflection, and I loved the part about your "gorgeous wife." I love "meeting" people like you who are still head over heels in love with their wife!
Cheers!
- Jo