It's Five Minute Friday! Bloggers and writers internet-wide joining together in community to write for five minutes straight (no stopping, no editing) on the prompt provided by the lovely Lisa-Jo, then linking up and encouraging each other. Click here for more details, and to join in!
I am a writer - by hand, at least. It's always my first instinct. When Blogger is running slowly and my pictures are taking 30 minutes apiece to load, I open the notebook I always carry and start plotting out my post by hand. When processing ideas, whether knitting related or for something else, I search for paper and pen. Somehow taking what's in my mind and etching it into a white page helps me think more clearly about it - searching for exactly the right word or the perfect phrase. (I also enjoy searching for exactly the right stationery or the perfect journal, which could be an entire post in itself...)
When I have something that I want to say to someone, writing is where I turn. I despise phone conversations, texts can be misread, and even typing leaves something to be desired (although, since this list is in descending order, it is definitely preferable to a verbal encounter) - but in the handwritten note, so much emotion can be expressed! There's the personality of each snowflake-individual "font," the varying lightness and heaviness of the lines, the creative ways to get around italics and brackets... (two things that I do not excel at producing by hand)
And above all else, writing gives me the chance to choose my words carefully. I can act instead of react - pondering each paragraph with a slowness not conducive to regular conversation. Because so many times, my mouth has gotten me into trouble; I've spoken without thinking, words of anger, frustration, hurt, haste, ignorance... but in the act of writing, there is redemption. Written words can be themselves repentantly destroyed before they destroy a relationship, or they can be savored and saved, reread and tied up with a ribbon, unchanged unlike the faulty memory of a long-ago conversation.
So I write. In journals, on sheets of blue-lined paper torn from spiral notebooks, in letter-pressed note cards, on wrappers and receipts and napkins and straw papers and coffee cups and anything else I can find that will take a mark - to leave my mark - in the hope that the foolish can be torn up (or burned), the graceful preserved, and maybe, just maybe, I can write Joy and Hope, Peace and Encouragement, into someone's life in the process.