Creative Breathing Room: The Benefits of Writing by Hand
I don’t always write longhand, but more often than not, if I am still working out what I want to say or if I’m early in the idea-generation phase of a writing project, paper will win out. Ironically, I started drafting this twice in Word before switching to a legal pad. A keyboard might seem easier initially, but nothing breaks the ice in my brain quite like writing by hand.
Putting pen to paper helps my thoughts flow. I feel free to write, cross out, doodle ideas in margins. If I want to add something between paragraphs, I can just put an arrow indicating where the new details get inserted. And I love the balance between permanence and work-in-progress. Once I jot down my thoughts in ink, they remain on the page for me to reference or build upon or go back to if the next version doesn’t work. I can see my thought process in real time. Also, nothing about a handwritten page looks final because ultimately I will type it into my computer. My mind registers handwriting as temporary, a rough stop along the way to the complete, typed product. Everything about it feels like a draft.
I learned to type in ninth grade, in a continuing education class at night because I refused to take typing as an elective and drag down my GPA—heavily weighted with honors classes—for something I considered nonacademic. But my father, a former journalism major who made his living writing direct marketing campaigns, insisted I learn, and so shelled out for the class and dutifully drove me to the high school two nights a week for a couple of months. This was before computers in every home or classroom or even office; I learned to type on an IBM Selectric with a cardboard shield hiding the keys to force me to type by memory instead of looking at the letters. I took typing tests on an identical typewriter eight years later, while hunting for my first job out of college, and one sat on my desk at Simon and Schuster when I started work as an editorial assistant, despite the fact that I had a Mac on my own desk at home.
All this to say, I am not a luddite. I embraced the technology of my childhood and all the innovations that followed. Desktop computer, then laptop, tablet, and so on. But I didn’t draft at the keyboard until my late twenties, when I took a writing job in the corporate/marking communications department at a mutual fund company and realized everyone composed directly onto their computer. It was faster, more streamlined, in an office where files often traveled from writer to writer, to layout and back, with rounds of permissions required before going to the printer. Although printouts would travel from desk to desk in a folder, the actual files lived on the server, easily accessed by anyone who needed them. So, I trained myself to write on a screen instead of a notebook.
But if I felt blocked, if the words would not flow, or my ideas did not coalesce, I would pull out some paper and start doodling. Little graphs or timelines, building blocks, numbers, whatever was pertinent to the project. And slowly but surely, my thoughts would loosen up. A few sentences, then a couple of paragraphs. Something would click, and I would charge ahead to write the rest. Yes, I could draft directly onto the computer, but only when I knew—or had a decent idea of—what I wanted to say.
Recent studies into the potential benefits of handwriting over typing link writing by hand to improved memory and learning. The simple act of holding a pen or pencil and moving it in the varied ways required to form letters lights up multiple areas of the brain that do not get accessed when we type—a repetitive motion that becomes almost mindless the more you do it. Students who typed up notes during a lecture were far more likely to simply take down everything the professor said, as opposed to students taking notes by hand, who were unable to capture every word and therefore needed to listen to the lecture and synthesize the contents down into their own words. The students with the handwritten notes both learned and remembered more of the lecture, both in the short- and long-term.
Taking notes in class and writing a novel are two very different things, but anything that lights up more of the brain can’t help but enhance the creative process. Improved recall means access to more of your research or any lived experienced that might contribute to your world or character building. And slowing down a little when you’re puzzling through a thorny plot point gives new ideas room to grow.
Adopting new technology for all of its benefits does not negate previous ways of doing things. If you never write longhand, give it a try next time the words are being stubborn. Plot out your project on a legal pad, complete with maps and timelines and doodles of your characters. Instead of just recounting your day in your journal, generate a bunch of title ideas. Put your zero draft in a spiral notebook with stickers on the cover, using a different colored ink each day. Let yourself play and see what happens. Your keyboard will always be there, waiting for you.
I have been nose-deep in submissions the past few weeks, working my way through older material and making room for new projects to come. I’d hoped to be open to queries by now, but as typical, I had a few time-consuming tasks crop up to distract me. But I do anticipate reopening for at least a short window early next month. Precise date to come. Keep an eye out!
Those of you looking for some fresh creative inspiration or just to get into a writing routine should check out Jami Attenberg’s #1000wordsofsummer challenge, which kicks off May 31st. The goal is to write 1000 words per day for two weeks, and there’s a substack and a slack channel and of course the hash tag to encourage you. I recommend it to anyone looking for accountability, cheerleading, and/or community. You can get the details over on her FAQ page.
As we churn along toward the end of the month, I hope you’re all making time to write or engage in whatever creative pursuit lights you up. Thanks, as always, for reading. Until next time!🥰