I was staring at a note I had written to myself the other day. It was a simple two lines of dialogue for the novel I’m working on. I could make out the word, “I” because I have distinctive handwriting. The other words and letters could have been scribbled by my daughter, who is five months young.
I don’t worry too much about Indiana. Her mother is a bona fide artist and amongst the two of us and her granola private school, our daughter Indy is mastering both print and cursive, in her own wonderful and unique style. I hear educators are worried about the next generation, that with cell phones, Facebook, and texting, the kids may be morphing into a new species, one that doesn’t communicate via the note or letter written in longhand.
To heck with the next generation. I’m fretting about me. I’ve always been a typing monster, a creature who can still rattle off 100-plus words a minute when I’m really hot. I jot off thank you notes every once in a while in long hand, but they are of the obligatory three paragraph size. And, of course, there are thank you and birthday cards. But I really don’t write too much cursively.
I loved the typewriter as a kid. It was one of the smartest things in my life to take a typing class in 8th grade. The computer is simply a miracle to me, giving me the ability to crank out thousands of words and then offering the forgiveness to go back and correct and check spelling.
Kipling. Cervantes. Twain. How did they manage?
Part of my problem is I’m in a constant rush, 24/7. There are columns to write, business correspondence to dash off. There is also the dreaded e-mail. Do you have a favorite e-mail you’d take out of a box of memorabilia to read over and over as the years fade?
Me neither.
This frenetic pace of 2012.
I can’t remember the last time I took out an ink pen and physically wrote someone a letter, decent sized, maybe two or three pages long. (My good friend John Zima is the last of a dying breed; he still sends letters in that familiar longhand.)
I used to have an eclectic handwriting style, part print, part cursive. It is a mirror to my psyche that the letter styles and shapes change. I have maybe five different ways to write a small “e.” It’s nothing I do on purpose. The “e’s” just come out differently.
This brain of mine.
Part of my problem is my little noggin always seems to run at drag strip speed, which is certainly better than drag queen speed. I’ve feverishly written notes and by the time I get to the end of what I wanted to say, my hands can’t keep up with my brain and I’ll forget a line or two of dialogue or an allegedly funny punchline.
Add to that I just don’t get much physical practice. I also carry around a miniature tape recorder and those notes go directly into the computer.
I recall a languid pleasure getting a hand-written letter from a friend. From the ink, the curves and spaces — and sometimes from an impromtu doodle — you could pick up those nuances which reminded you fondly of the sender. Then there was the tactile sensation of good paper and something about folding it up and unfolding it later to reread.
Was 40 years ago more romantic and swashbuckling or was I?
At least I can make the distinction.
I do wonder what the fate of longhand writing will be in this ever-increasing worship of speed and technology. Will my daughter pass a secret note to a friend in junior high school. Will she thoughtfully pine, sending a love letter to someone?
(As a father, part of me hopes that will be sometime after the year 2435).
Who knows. Maybe the kids will be slipping each other three-dimensional holigraphic messages from their Mind Phones.
Life is different.
I’ll answer 20-to-60 e-mails a day, work on seven books times a week and there’s those unpublished novels starting to pile up, along with launching the new website: TheJohnBostonMagazine.com. How did Shakespeare manage with a sharpened quill, a few sheets of thick papyrus and a candle to work by?
John Boston has earned 119 major awards for writing stuff. Besides The Mighty West Ranch Beacon, his work appears in the prestigious thebostonreport.net just about every darn day. His commentaries represent his own opinions and not necessarily the views of any organization he may be affiliated with or those of the West Ranch Beacon. Read Boston’s daily blog, his Daily English Muffins, the Adventures of Job Hunter and more of John Boston’s award-winning commentary on thebostonreport.net