In today’s world, where electronic devices have replaced the typewriter which replaced the pen which replaced the chisel which replaced crushed berry juice, what is truly “writing”? Prior to typewriters, it was either handwritten by the author or orated to someone else for them to write it down. Computers (including word processing software and internet applications) have taken it to the next level although it can be argued that quality has suffered. With the advent of the internet, any insufferable prick or boring blowhard (myself included) can relay their thoughts around the world and not be limited to someone physically transporting their document to different parts of the world. Keep in mind I don’t consider myself a writer. To do so would undermine what real writers do. I’m a commenter who has better spelling skills than grammatical skills. Yes, I write 4 to 5 times a week but it would never pass muster in journalism school or any other formal training for the skill of writing.
I made the switch to typing my thoughts during my college years. The early 90's were becoming saturated with computers and we paid an extra $400 a year to live in designated dorms called Residence Halls of the Future. What did The Future get you? A kickass 286 PC monitor (with either a green or orange screen) and dot matrix printer. I wasn’t lucky enough to live in a dorm where they had the newfangled printers that printed back and forth instead of the first generation dot matrix printers that printed one line and went back to the next line like a typewriter. Anyway, my point was that word processing was a godsend. No more WhiteOut!! Immediate, painless and smudge-free editing allowed for quicker thought creation.
I think the last time I felt the absolute need to write manually was when we were in London 5 years ago and were staying at this gorgeous hotel – the Thistle Victoria (thank you, Jason’s mom!). On the first floor was a nicely decorated hotel bar that oozed history (I think the 4th gallery picture on the link above shows part of the room although I always saw it during the night time and the lights were on low). The room beckoned me with its storied walls and comfortable seats and a nice pint within arm’s reach.
With Megan being 5 months pregnant at the time and understandably wanting to retire early most nights, I would up planting my arse there a few evenings after she went to bed. I wrote pages of thoughts along with memories of the trip’s events. There was only one of those nights where I over-imbibed but after reading that night’s ranting a few weeks later while back in the States, it wound up being a brutal dissection of everything that was wrong with Atlanta. I’ll have to find that text sometime and maybe copy it to the blog.
Part of that night’s screed was fueled by me being visiting a world-class city in an area that reeked of individuality and personality. Coming from a city devoid of any semblance to urban planning, lack of soul and generic architecture and then being plopped into a city that is the exact opposite of everything Atlanta stands for was a catalyst for me to almost give my right hand cramps from writing so fast and furious that stemmed from a jealousy that I didn’t like in such a cosmopolitan town (awesome run-on sentence, James).
The best writing usually comes when a person is a) fueled by drugs – whether it be something as “benign” as alcohol or whether it be something much harder, b) in a state of anger or frustration, or c) any other kind of extreme emotion – whether it be madly in love or bitter at the world or paranoid that the government is tracking you. Since I have an aversion to needles and my rage at the world’s ills is tempered somewhat by having 2 wonderful healthy girls and a great wife, I’ll try to dig deep to keep on being inspired to write.
In the meantime, maybe cut out a half hour of TV time this weekend and go read something in your backlog or pick up your local paper. While I love the internet and the access to things I wouldn’t normally be able to read locally, I still think nothing beats the printed word in paper in your hands as you flip from page to page. Maybe it’s a tactile thing but I prefer it to being hunched over a computer monitor any day.