I write on my lovely MacBook laptop computer. The words flow from my fingertips through the keyboard and onto the screen swiftly and easily (when the words come, that is). It’s hard enough to remember the days when an electric typewriter was an innovation, and I cannot imagine how great epics were written in the days of quill pens. Yes, I love my computer.
But there is something intangibly nice about writing by hand. When I am made king, all legal documents will have to be signed in blue ink (actually any color but black) so that it will be evident that the signature is an original and not a photocopy. But aside from that, people will be permitted to write with black ink pens if they wish (but why would anyone wish that?).
When I am writing by hand, especially in my spiral-bound journals but also when I’m making feverish notes for my creative work, I like to write with a mechanical pencil. I’ve had many over the years, and they are always trusty gifts to give me when the holidays come around. I like the feel of the pencil in my hand. I like the fine handwriting I can produce with a lead that always stays sharp. I like the use of the muscles in my hand to guide the pencil across the paper.
I don’t suppose I’ll ever attempt to write any long work with a pencil and paper, but if I ever do, I suspect I will enjoy the process.