Finding time to write (type)

I don’t like to type. I wish I were a good typist but I love to write.

It seems that in this century writing is typing are synonymous. To me there is something cold and distant about typing. I seriously considered getting one of those speech to text software setups for my computer because like most introverts I can have an amazing conversation with myself and the minute I begin trying to type it I freeze up, forget or second guess myself.

A page with lines, the movement of my hand bouncing up and down as I form my thoughts, even the scribbling of mistakes and doodling in margins is far more comforting that the blank white rectangle of a computer programme and the ribbon of font and text options above it.

Partially my preference is nostalgic. Penmanship was mandatory subject for me when I was 5 – 9 years. I had excellent penmanship and I had one particular teacher at age 7 year that inspired me to write beautifully. Post-colonial countries love to teach their children cursive and my family did not fail to prioritize this style of writing. My grandfather maintained a set of fountain pens that he regularly wrote with until his death at 81. A calligrapher in his spare time he often volunteered to do certificates for schools and training programmes. He would pay me 25 cents for every full name I could write well.

Somewhere between making money off of my grandfather and my first computer my mother bought an electronic typewriter. I was fascinated. There was digital display that allowed you to type each line and review it before printing. With one touch of the enter key it would print the enter line in one continuous motion. It was no fountain pen but the movement of the platen was mesmerizing. For a dyslexic, being able to see what I typed before it was committed to the paper gave me sense of the control that other digital displays to date have never been able to.

Typing is now a part of my daily life and career aspirations. I write before I type, especially for work important to me. I hand wrote my master’s thesis.

I have personal stationery, but I don’t use it any more.  Much of what I type now is someone else’s product. If it’s one thing I must acknowledge, 2016 was very much the year of someone else’s words. Lots of typing but very little personal writing. Very little thoughtfully written reflections, ideas and stories that, very little of what’s important to me.

I want to write more, type more and find permanent places to all my words, because what’s sense of constantly using words you don’t take time to make yours visible too.