A case for writing in longhand

The next generation of copywriters will surely lose touch with that pristine feeling of ink on paper. The computer screen and the keyboard has taken over. The virgin white paper is relegated to little used office shelves. Though, one good thing is, less trees will be cut, because of this. However, if you go by the sheer pleasure of going through the process of writing, almost all writers will vouch for the age old method of writing in long hand. And thereby hangs a tale (pun intended). For instance, analyze how a writer begins. Let’s start at the beginning. Most writers will start by brooding over when to write, to such an extent that they will obsess about it for days on end. Because, in the back of their minds they know that the only way to start is to actually sit down and do it. But to get to this point, they will invariably go through another process called the ‘fine art of procrastinating’. By this, it usually means, they will do anything to put off the all impending deadline. Neil French, in his own words, hangs around with unsuitable women, loiter around the beach and play pool, just to postpone the moment of confronting a blank white sheet of paper mocking at you incessantly. By the way, he only writes in long hand and he is so good at calligraphy, that he can write copy on to the final layout in 9 point garamond, so finely, that it usually goes to the printer without even a slight change in alignment, let alone a typo.

We digress, though.

Paulo Coelho in ‘The Zahir’ talks about the writer’s block or the ‘fine art of procrastinating’ so masterfully, that one is actually tempted to write. It is time now to assume that the writer has found the perfect mood. That he has come out of the proverbial block and is now bristling with inspiration. Itching to get his hands on a writing instrument. Pen, pencil, chalk or even a tree root, to translate his ideas on to something. One copywriter has claimed that if he couldn’t find a piece of paper to write on, at the opportune moment, he would invariably coerce his lover to allow him to write down his thoughts on to her just-waxed, spa-fresh body. As they say, passion knows no boundaries.

There are others who sit down, takes a Waterman, looks deeply at it, examine the nib, creates a doodle in the corner of the page to see whether the Waterman is in top writing condition, and so on and so forth. A bottle of ink, no less than Parker, will hover around the periphery vision, waiting for the pen to be quenched so as not to lose the uninterrupted flow of thoughts. Next he takes a sheaf of paper. Pure, lily white and unsullied, waiting for its destiny to exhibit greatness and hold it as long as the ink stays true and fast. Ah, how fortunate is this paper, like a virgin bride about to be conceived, embracing and nurturing the seeds of life, so that she can bring forth the labour of love, alive and kicking.

The question is, can a laptop, however slick or expensive, evoke a similar feeling? The answer is obvious, at least to our generation. The future will keep reeling off surprises, all I am hoping is, I will be able to take it in my stride.

For the record, this piece was written first on a white sheet with a proper ink pen.

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