I really love to write. And I don’t mean the process of telling a story through words recorded on paper (although I do love that), but I mean the actual ACT of writing itself. I love the feel of a pen in my hand, love moving it across a piece of paper to form letters, words, sentences, paragraphs. I love seeing my handwriting fill up a page, making something that was once pure and clean messy and complicated, but so much more valuable.
Sometimes, before I began writing fiction and poetry, I would feel this urge to pick up a pen and just write, though often I didn’t have any purpose, so I didn’t write anything at all. I still get those impulses now. I’ll be sitting at work and will have a few slow moments and in my head, suddenly, the desire will strike. I’ll wish desperately in the moment that I could pull out my notebook and form words across the page, even if I don’t say anything.
There’s something so immensely satisfying about flipping through my full notebooks, seeing my familiar writing. No one in the world writes exactly like me. When I write lowercase “g”s I’m often going so fast that I don’t form a complete loop at the top. And my uppercase “I”s are often written in such a hurry they could be mistaken for “N”s if the page was turned 180 degrees. And there are a million other things about my handwriting that when combined mean I’m the only person in the world to write like I do.
I think that is amazing.
I wonder now if my love of the Act of writing led me to write fiction. Was that a direction I was always headed in and I didn’t know it? Were my diligent note-taking skills in high school and college just precursors to the notebooks that would one day carry my heart and soul on their pages? Were the urges to pick up a pen I felt for twenty-four and a half years before writing Twenty-Five trying to tell me my destiny?
That I really should be a writer?
Lua posted an interesting exercise on her blog a few days or weeks ago, I can’t be sure exactly which. It goes along really well with these thoughts, so here it is:
Write down the following, snap a picture (or scan the document), post it, and tag others.
2. Right handed, left handed or both?
3. Favorite letters to write?
4. Least favorite letters to write?
5. Write: The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.
6. Write in caps:
7. Favorite song lyrics?
8. Tag 7 people.
9. Any special note or drawing?
I wrote this down in the actual notebook I’m carrying around at the moment, where I write whenever I get a chance. It has random chapters and short stories and pieces of poetry along with driving directions and notes from classes and seminars and meetings about weddings. I love my notebook.
Note: I didn’t do #8- tagging people. I’m not really sure how that works on a blog. I mean, I know how to add tags to each post, but does it mean I should link to these people’s blogs? And disclaimer on #7- favorite song lyrics- I actually just wrote down the lyrics playing at the moment I got to that step! Sorry, I guess I don’t have one song or set of lyrics that sticks out enough for me to call it a favorite.
6 thoughts on “The Act of Writing”
The act of writing, pen on paper, is a true art all by itself… And I LOVE your handwriting 🙂
Thanks! I think my handwriting is pretty, but my family always tells me it’s ugly. Great lot of supporters they are! 🙂
I think a love of writing on paper is truly an inspiration for me. Sometimes when I’m feeling down (in my writing) I go and buy myself a notebook.
I love notebooks. All kinds. lined, unlined, college ruled, journals, spiral, leather-bound. Give me a notebook and a pen and I am a happy girl.
Oh, your handwriting is beautiful!
I did this meme too. 🙂 To tag, you just link the other blogs.
the victorian heroine
Thank you Corra! I just stopped by your new blog yesterday, I didn’t know you were blogging again! I can’t wait to catch up with your thoughts!