I think I have a strange unhealthy desire to actually write a book, and I mean write, as in not using a computer or even a typewriter, just a pen in hand. Crazy, absolutely bonkers, in serious need of some psychological help is the diagnosis; I believe I heard one of the voices in my head say. This is something that has nagged at me for a long time, ever since I thought about attempting the writing thing. For me, there is always a proper way of doing things and this usually entails some complication or other necessity for it to feel right. My troublesome habit tends to make jumping right into something slightly harder and can drive others crazy. Back to the book writing; the perils of writing a book by hand are obvious, the tedious and messy penmanship, the lack of ability to quickly edit the work, and even if you finish something like this, to have anything done with the writing I would have to have it typed into a digital format. As if the process isn’t already fraught with enough obstacles?
The question that intrigues me is…how would it impact the actual writing? Would there be some magical connection explored that’s just not present with a laptop? Would the process of slowing down make my brain work in ways that would produce something completely different? There is only one true way to know, and that is to actually do it; oh my. On this note, on my quest, my wandering, I did find that one thing that spoke to me. I was in Books-A-Million about to purchase a book, while waiting in line by all of their chachkies I saw it; a pen, a wonderful, quirky, and right up my alley pen. This pen is not only functional but fun, and I plan on putting it to good use; we will see if it ends up with a hand-written book.
I feel that whatever it is you do or strive to achieve the journey should be fun and everyone’s path is different. Too many of us try to be like everybody else, myself included; I find I have the best results when I go with what feels the best. Needless to say I bought the pen, inexpensive and cool. I just like looking at it and it actually stares back at me; I can’t wait to use it. I will pick one of my empty journals that is dying to be filled, and we will see what will come. Maybe I will work on this till the day I die and someone will find it and enjoy my best work. I’m picky, I can’t help it; I like my tea hot with honey in my special glasses and I like my paintings original . There are things that should be done in a certain way and sometimes there are certain things that are needed to properly complete a task. I think my new pen will take me down a road I have never been down; I just hope it’s scary, interesting, and new…just like the pen.