Putting pen to page

I'm actually writing this blog entry on paper. With a pen. No where near a computer. Obviously, as you're reading this, I've since typed it up but there is something quite nice about being about to put pen to paper and let the thoughts flow.

I like writing because it is slower. With a typing speed of around 70 words per minute, my fingers can quite often work a lot faster than my brain My thoughts get flustered and muddled and the words start to jump about on the screen.

I forget what I have already typed as the words are spurned higher up on the screen to make space for the new ones. Constantly moving vowels and consonants forming words and sentences almost of their own accord; taking on a life of their own, separate from the author who created them.

I like writing. I like the flow of the words as letters merge into each other, something which doesn't happen in type. I like the curls of my handwriting, the 'l' and the 'g' and the 'w'. The flair which makes these words mine. The little marks and inflections which I can recognise as mine. They are my voice on the paper, my accent translated through the pen

The typed word can seem so cold and stark. So impersonal. Like a robotic voice - no colours, no emotions. Each letter identical every time, standing alone. No mistakes, no scribbles, no personality. Anonymous words on a flickering screen.

But without typing and computers, these words would just remain here on the page. Folded in my handbag for no one to see'; quietly forgotten with no eyes to see them, no voice to speak them. At least on the screen they are out there, in the big wide world, for people to absorb - should they want to.