Remembering this; there’s more than one way to skin a cat. However, learning from those walking a path before you is also key!

What I find interesting is that my writing seems to go on and on, but my blog posts….well, not so much. I think I have an idea, I start writing, save progress….hit computer issues, hit life issues, and at the end…still getting something written. My writing is now there in the world for consumption, scrutiny, and release. Getting my thoughts out as they occur, so much easier on paper than online — with a computer, dialogue flows for some reason, but not descriptive thoughts and ideas. For me, it’s not organic enough. I can’t feel it because I’m not physically writing it.

For some of my students, typing their thoughts are first nature. Maybe even texting? I don’t know about that. It isn’t enough for me, it would not only take too long but I’d loose my train of thought and be ready to move on…not to mention move my neck, stand up and stretch, and take a minute to look out of the window or pet my dogs. I don’t do well taking small breaks from electronics. I know this. As a result, I really don’t like to get interrupted. I lose my train of thought and then I have endless drafts of blog posts, but not many completed.

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening, by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

On the other hand, handwriting can literally be fluid and sexy. It can be romantic, emphatic; large and loopy or small and scratchy. Just by reading the writing, or losing the feeling in my fingers from {likely} gripping the pencil too hard. Much like gripping the handlebars too tightly, it becomes part of me. The writing, not just the writing instrument, becomes part of me and who I am. Fluidity, flow, and ebb…handwriting does that for me. Makes me feel alive. Sexy.

Write On, Writer.