Pages of a novel I wrote while in high school have been lurking in this notebook since the 1960s.
I can remember writing in study hall in Mrs. Tronetti's reading classroom near the high school library, in one of those desks with the book rack under the seat. I favored a fountain pen - blue ink with the cartridges that slid into place. and it tended to smudge a bit on the coarse paper - even though the cover of the tablet boasts of superior quality paper. I remember the vague discomfort of stockings attached with garters under my dress and the care taken to be ladylike in posture to keep from giving anyone a glimpse under the skirt. We girls were not allowed the luxury of wearing pants or jeans to school except on the last day of the year.
After 60+ years I'm still writing. I've filled pages and pages with words put together in notebooks of all sorts since those Goldenrod tablet days. My youthful handwriting is unrecognizable to me - much like my handwriting of 20 years ago and even a couple of weeks ago.
Much of what feels like my 'real' work is accomplished these days on my little laptop computer. Hard drive, thumb drive, backup drive - all available with a few keystrokes. There's a novel (or two) in progress, a memoir of sorts, family history stories, short stories, essays, blog posts.
It's rather solitary work - just me and my computer trying to avoid the myriad distractions of life that take me to less solitary pursuits. But still I persist - and sometimes I'm getting it right. And sometimes, it all feels wrong and clunky and like yet another cliche.
Writing Practice - of the sort taught by Natalie Goldberg and Julia Cameron - still calls for writing by hand, even if it's for 10 minutes, every day, no editing, no judgment. Pick a topic - any topic - set the timer, and write. "Keep the hand moving," she says even if you write over and over the same thought.
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And this new year, I have the joy of opening a new notebook - and the joy of putting on paper those first few lines with a new fast-writing pen!
ADDENDUM: JANUARY 25, 2024
Arthur stomped the snow off his shoes on the porch before stepping into the steamy kitchen where I was stirring a pot of pasta for our dinner. He had made the late-afternoon trip to the mailbox and handed me a manilla envelope. "This is for you," he said. And this is what I pulled out.
A brand new Goldenrod tablet and I bet he paid more than the 25 cents stamped on the cover.
1 comment:
I find that writing by hand is indeed different, as is the thought process involved with the possibilities that change with each word or phrase. Also what sort of journal or pad makes a difference, size and shape of the page, the type of pen or pencil. For what it's worth, my most free writing practice is done in composition books. There is something disposable about that thin paper with lines that encourages me to just pour it out there.
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