Hand Made!

My handwritten notes apparently contain Proust's A Rememberance of Things Past.

My handwritten notes apparently contain Proust’s A Rememberance of Things Past.

You will all be relieved to know that I am finally with computer again. In the interim I was forced – sharp intake of breath – to write by hand. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not purist.  I am not one of these people who take their laptops into meetings filing away nicely organized notes on the go.  No, in such settings I resort to old-fashioned handwritten notes that I rarely refer back to and when I do, are hopelessly inadequate.  But it is rare that for me to compose fiction by hand that’s any longer than a short, unintentionally cryptic reminder of some seemingly brilliant idea.  But in desperate times… Now some people wax poetic of the oneness of their muse with the pen, ideas flowing uninterrupted from nib to page.  No pesky cut, paste, autocorrect desires to edit, delete and start again getting in the way. Plenty of time to amend later, they reason.  But personally I love the ease of on-the-go editing.  And as for it interrupting the flow, my answer is what flow?  But the thing I dislike the most about writing by hand is not being able to read my handwriting afterwards.  Oh the masterpieces that are hidden in the scrawl.

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