Making your mark, by Veronica Zundel
How do you write? I don't mean, how do you begin, do you plan or just pitch in, do you use lots of adjectives or conversation or authorial comment, do you do research? I mean physically, do you tap on a tablet or doodle on a desktop, or are you one of those supposedly old-fashioned writers who have to start with a pad and pen, or even a fountain pen on fancy thick cream paper?
I can write straight to screen if it's prose (like this), but with poetry I have to have the physical feel of pen on paper, the muscle memory of inscribed words, even in the middle of the night when all I have is a nearly finished reporter's notepad and a run-out biro by the side of the bed (and yes, last night I had to go to the home office twice since the first ballpen I picked out there was just as run-out as the one by the bed, but at least I got the draft poem down). I gave up 'proper' fountain pens decades ago, in spite of being the generation that started with desk inkwells and dip-in nips with marbled tapered wooden handles (remember those? And the way they picked up fibres on sub-standard exercise books and dragged them across the page smearing everything?).
There's something about the bodily act of making marks on paper that just helps the flow of poetic inspiration - and maybe it's also the fact that most of my poems turn out shortish, which means I can stop well short of writer's cramp. For millenia, making real marks on a real surface, whether cuneiform on clay, heiroglyphics on stele or illegible scribble on a prescription pad (my dad was a doctor, which is why I haven't yet deciphered his roughly 40 years of tiny Letts diaries), was the only way to preserve and share your profound and priceless thoughts. Digital is a mere Johnny-come-lately, and for all its convenience (and I think every schoolchild should be taught to touch type), is somehow at one remove from the sensory experience of moving something long and thin around a surface (which reminds me of a wonderful video I just saw of a pre-schooler painting using her dog's tail as a brush!).
Writing is a physical activity, and though it sadly doesn't burn many calories, it can still be viewed as a sort of exercise, linked to walking or running (as Georgina pointed out in Thursday's blog) which are both activities that can stimulate inspiration - literally, an intake of air. It demands good posture and a comfortable position - I still don't know how my husband can work with a laptop literally on his lap, or my son sprawled on the floor with his in front of him. I'd be wriggling like an eel within minutes, which is why chemotherapy, which involves long periods of sitting, has been such an ordeal.
So tell me, do you pick up a pen or sneak a stylus, tap on a typewriter or tickle a keyboard?
Veronica Zundel is a freelance writer whose latest book is Everything I know about God, I've learned from being a parent (BRF 2013). She also writes a column for Woman Alive magazine, and Bible notes for BRF's New Daylight. Veronica used to belong to what was, before it closed, the only non-conservative, English speaking Mennonite church in the UK, and is currently playing at being a high Anglican. She also blogs (rather occasionally!) at reversedstandard.com
I can write straight to screen if it's prose (like this), but with poetry I have to have the physical feel of pen on paper, the muscle memory of inscribed words, even in the middle of the night when all I have is a nearly finished reporter's notepad and a run-out biro by the side of the bed (and yes, last night I had to go to the home office twice since the first ballpen I picked out there was just as run-out as the one by the bed, but at least I got the draft poem down). I gave up 'proper' fountain pens decades ago, in spite of being the generation that started with desk inkwells and dip-in nips with marbled tapered wooden handles (remember those? And the way they picked up fibres on sub-standard exercise books and dragged them across the page smearing everything?).
There's something about the bodily act of making marks on paper that just helps the flow of poetic inspiration - and maybe it's also the fact that most of my poems turn out shortish, which means I can stop well short of writer's cramp. For millenia, making real marks on a real surface, whether cuneiform on clay, heiroglyphics on stele or illegible scribble on a prescription pad (my dad was a doctor, which is why I haven't yet deciphered his roughly 40 years of tiny Letts diaries), was the only way to preserve and share your profound and priceless thoughts. Digital is a mere Johnny-come-lately, and for all its convenience (and I think every schoolchild should be taught to touch type), is somehow at one remove from the sensory experience of moving something long and thin around a surface (which reminds me of a wonderful video I just saw of a pre-schooler painting using her dog's tail as a brush!).Writing is a physical activity, and though it sadly doesn't burn many calories, it can still be viewed as a sort of exercise, linked to walking or running (as Georgina pointed out in Thursday's blog) which are both activities that can stimulate inspiration - literally, an intake of air. It demands good posture and a comfortable position - I still don't know how my husband can work with a laptop literally on his lap, or my son sprawled on the floor with his in front of him. I'd be wriggling like an eel within minutes, which is why chemotherapy, which involves long periods of sitting, has been such an ordeal.
So tell me, do you pick up a pen or sneak a stylus, tap on a typewriter or tickle a keyboard?
Veronica Zundel is a freelance writer whose latest book is Everything I know about God, I've learned from being a parent (BRF 2013). She also writes a column for Woman Alive magazine, and Bible notes for BRF's New Daylight. Veronica used to belong to what was, before it closed, the only non-conservative, English speaking Mennonite church in the UK, and is currently playing at being a high Anglican. She also blogs (rather occasionally!) at reversedstandard.com
I write everything except notes at workshops or conferences on a laptop. My handwriting is suffering as a result - I don't have the coordination any more and have to concentrate hard to get it legible. I wrote a cheque just now and felt I was performing some ancient ritual.
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