Ever since I got home from my last trip to Laity Lodge, I’ve been trying to adapt myself to a new habit. It has a name, which currently escapes me, and it involves writing.
Last year, Joy Castro, a local author, sat with me and a few of my writing friends and talked with us about writing. Joy has one of the softest and most beautiful voices I’ve ever heard. Each of us sat still in our chairs, or on our cushion on a couch, and Joy sat in a corner of the couch beneath the painting of a lush landscape which was framed in an ornate, golden-colored frame with curlicues and sweeps of fanciness. It was a juxtaposition, indeed: all that fanciness, bustling about on the blue-painted wall while Joy sat in comfortable stillness and practically whispered to us about the craft of writing. We barely moved, afraid the sound of denim-clad derrieres shifting against the upholstery would drown out Joy’s magnificent words.
Joy has written many books. You should read The Truth Book. And, if you write memoir, you should read Family Trouble. It’s been more than a year since we sat together and I still remember vividly the way the room seemed to swoon when Joy read to us about kissing ankles. I know. You should read her books. My, my, my.
Joy told us she writes all of her books longhand. As in, not on a computer. Surely, the words she writes eventually end up in some digital form, but the way she begins is with a writing implement and paper. It’s the first thing she does every day, she said. Before her feet hit the floor in the morning, she is writing. Her husband brings her coffee in bed. There is no talking. Only writing. Because she doesn’t want to miss the moment, or the words.
I am not a morning person, but I do believe in the writing of words with pen and paper. It doesn’t happen often enough for me any more. But, at Laity Lodge, my friend Helen suggested (by way of assigning me the task of) writing for thirty minutes every morning. Helen was specific in her instructions to me:
- No distractions. “Take down that calendar you have on your wall,” she said to me. She also told me to clear my desk. Easier said than done.
- Write longhand, on unlined paper. Something happens when we put pen or pencil to paper. It’s not the same as writing on a computer. Writing without lines takes away any suggestions about where the words should go on the page and which words should come next. I hope we never lose the art of writing longhand, without lines telling us which way we should go.
- Light a candle. Something about the flickering of the flame connects with something in my brain, Helen said. She knows what she’s talking about and, if you’d like to know the science behind it, she’ll be glad to tell you. I am a fan of candles, even without the science, so I needed no convincing.
- Play baroque music. This may surprise you, but I actually have a baroque music station on Pandora. Back when I was preparing for my TEDx Talk, another friend of mine recommended writing to baroque music. Something about the cadence of the music makes for good writing. I have tried disco music and praise music and classical music and jazz. But, for this assignment, baroque really does do the trick best of all.
- Write for thirty minutes. Just go. Set the timer, and write. Helen may have suggested I start with a question, and that has worked well for me. Most of the time, the half hour flies by and, somehow, I find myself ending with a question, just as the timer on my phone starts to buzz. Helen said this would happen. And so, I save that question for the next morning.
I’m supposed to write like this for thirty days, and see where it leads me. I doubt you’ll ever see the actual words I’m writing on those unlined pages, but you may see stories and thoughts these words have opened up in me, and will open up for me along the way.
I had lost myself. Back at Laity Lodge, I sat across from Helen at a desk in the library beneath the Great Hall. There is a bright red maple tree just outside the window there, next to the spiral staircase that always makes me feel like Cinderella. I barely noticed the tree this year. But, after I sat with Helen, and she assigned me the writing and the candle and the music, and I told her things just between me and her, I went back upstairs to the Great Hall, where all the people were gathered and a fire was burning in the gigantic stone fireplace. I saw the sunlight “take the tree” just outside the window, and it completely surprised me in the very best way.
So, I’m writing longhand in the mornings with the dog at my feet and a cup of decaf by my side. All of this meandering across the page is helping me find my footing and taking a load off my chest. I would never tell you what to do, I hope you know that. You know you better than I know you. But (and I realize the word “but” cancels out everything that comes before it), if you’ve lost yourself along the way, you might want to try writing longhand. If you do, I’d love to hear about it. If you care to tell me.
By the way, I know that picture up there has nothing to with what I’ve written.
But then again, maybe it does.
Some Questions for You: When was the last time you wrote something longhand? What does it feel like to write on unlined paper with a pen in your hand? Have you lost yourself somewhere on the sidewalk? What do you think would happen if you wrote longhand every day?
First of all, I love it that you are a disco queen who is into Baroque.
I keep a journal — try to write in it every day. It’s not always pretty, but it helps keep me sane. Lately, I haven’t written in it as much (so I am less sane.) Thanks for this reminder that I like the feel of the pen in my hand.
For writers, our well-being is so very connected to the empty page, isn’t it? My husband thrives on the ski slopes, with Led Zeppelin pounding away in his ears. And, while I’m a writer, there are parts of me—the dancer parts—that need to move. My body tells me what I need, but I don’t always listen. Have you written in your journal since you wrote this comment? If so, how do you feel?
Oh Deidra- I am in a season of flailing about, trying to find the whole me under the surface of the bits of me and this spoke to me.
You’re in there. I promise. 🙂 But, you’re also out here, you know? Sometimes, I think we come untethered. Too much going on. Not enough of the right stuff going on. Or, just not anything going on at all. Sometimes, it undoes us, and we lose our way to who we are. So, in my morning writing sessions, I’ve been trying to remember what it means to be “in” Christ. I don’t know if I’ve ever truly been able to articulate it. I think I’ve simply taken it as one of those standard things we church people say. But I’ve never really tried to understand it. How about you? Do you get it?
Writing longhand saved me. I can’t explain it (like when the light takes the tree, you just know it when you see it 😉 ) and maybe it sounds overly dramatic, but it’s true.
I need a pen that feels good in my hand and paper that seems ready to take up the ink. (No friction between them.)
Every now and then, there is a really great marriage of ink and paper. It’s the reason pens disappear from banks and doctor’s offices and school teachers’ desks, I imagine. No friction. Indeed.
Not overly dramatic. Not at all. I get it.
I wrote longhand notes to myself today on the plain back of a page-a-day calendar page. And I wrote longhand sermon notes at church yesterday in the little notebook in my purse. But this kind of longhand? It’s been at least a few weeks. I might copy off of you.
I love writing on unlined paper, but it’s a mechanical pencil in my hand. I like the sound of it. I like noticing the tooth of the paper and the difference in the line depending on how hard I press. I know I’ve been away from handwriting too long when I have this weird impulse to hit SAVE at the end of a page.
The sidewalk question? That is a good writing prompt. (And thank you for this picture. For the first time on a trip to Laity Lodge, I did not stop at the beef-jerky-and-jackknife store, and it felt weird. Now I feel like I stopped after all. (That is what that is, right?))
Last Sunday, I couldn’t find the journal I usually take with me to church. So, I used a journal I received last year when I spoke at IF:Gathering. No lines. For a minute, I was stumped, and thought about looking for something different to write on. But, I stuck with the unlined journal. I don’t know if it means anything, but that’s what happened.
I’ve been toying with your idea of the writing prompt. How could we make that work?
Gosh. I’m not sure I could write without lines! Does that make me perfectionistic? I think I will give l-o-n-h-a-n-d a try 🙂
Let me know if you do, Caryn! I’d be interested to know how the experience feels to you.
I write in my journal several times a week, and often quick notes in-between, on bits of paper I clip to my dayplanner until I get home. And I almost always light a candle when I sit to write. It’s a signal that helps me to internally focus. 🙂 I only go to the computer when I am ready to craft something in a final draft.
So, everything you write starts out on a piece of paper, and not on the computer? That really intrigues me. The act of writing is different from typing on a computer, and I wonder how the chemical reactions in our brains differ from one to the other? Do you find more creativity when you write longhand, or more when you’re at the computer?
Almost everything does start out on a piece of paper, and I go through phases of paper and implement type that I must use when I write. The kinesthetic part of writing is important to me. But, writing is not my day job, either, so I am not writing longhand for 8 hours a day. I do write nearly every day, and sometimes go back with a highlighter or colored marker and pull phrases to take to the keyboard and see how they develop.
I do a sort of art journaling, where I draw/illustrate/write Bible verses and the images they bring to my mind. I don’t have a set time or do it on a regular basis though. I’d love to develop a daily writing practice like that.
I like the idea of art journaling and, as I was writing this post about the freedom of unlined paper, I realized I haven’t really used that freedom to its fullest. Thank you for this, Kim. I might try it one day soon!
I write in my prayer journal later, but I have a separate writing journal. I use it to jot ideas and brainstorm chapters for books, to squirrel away writing thoughts I want to come back to. I like to take it to the front porch and just sit with it sometimes. It helps “unstick” me inside, to put pen to paper the way I did when I first dreamed writing dreams as a little girl. I’ve never really practiced it as a discipline of my writing day, but I might consider it. I am building a book idea that is hard writing, and it might help unravel the knots a bit.
Colleen, how do you keep track of what you’ve written in your writing journal? Can you easily return to the thoughts you want to use in your books and other writing? I guess I’m wondering about your system because I’m always scribbling notes down, but finding myself unable to locate them when I need them. Sometimes, however, writing the idea on a piece of paper seems to solidify the idea in my mind, even if I never find the piece of paper again.
Deidra, I would love to pretend that it is all perfectly organized, but it is more of a lovely mess. That being said, I do have a loose system that makes it easier for me to go back to things when I want them. I write working book titles and idea in the front cover of the journal. If I have an idea for a chapter, I give it a two page spread with the title of the book and the title of the chapter written across the top. I jot blog post ideas in list form starting at the back of the journal. If I need to long hand something to get it flowing or want to write a poem, which for me usually won’t come at the keyboard, then I go to the next blank page at the front or back as it suits me. After writing, I title the top of the pages I have filled with category and title. So it might say “Blog Post” or “Poem”, then “A Million Welcomes”. Then I can thumb through page tops and look for something. Does that make any sense whatsoever?
Wow! That’s impressive! Yes. It makes sense. And it kind of speaks to me. So much so, that I’d love to sit and talk with you. I want to see your journal! I don’t need to read the words, because I know that’s sacred space. But, the journal sounds divine!
Email me? We can talk more. ccmitch.serendipity AT gmail DOT com
I’m such a fan of writing long hand. I had a conversation about this very thing with Marilyn while we were at Laity! Brilliant plan, Deidra. I believe in the fruitfulness of this! 🙂
I needed the reminder. It’s like the treadmill. I don’t think I want to run on it until I’m running on it and then I say, “What in the world made me think I didn’t want to run today?”
I have journaled almost everyday since I was about 25 years of age. God just seems to sound closer to me when pen flows ink across clean pages.
Honestly, I’m not sure I know how to communicate with God with out a place to write the conversation.
I write freely on paper in a voice I am hesitant to share online. On paper I am bold. Online I am cautions. It’s easy to get lost between the two.
The more I pour into my journal the more I see a richness in me that is what I am to share with others.
Oh, that’s interesting, Diane! I’d love to hear some of that bold voice. Not that I don’t already think you’re bold. When I hear your voice in my head, you are sassy and strong and feisty. Is that different from bold? I don’t know, but I’d like to read a few of those words from the voice you’ve labeled “bold.”
I laughed right out loud when I read your reply! You have always called me sassy. You know I’m crazy about you!
I might send you some “bold” one day, when have written in my journal, setting the world straight about it’s crazy self . I’m Still not ready for the public. <3
Haha! Yes, indeed. You tell that world!
This has me feeling things. I’m struggling to get outside myself (or deeply into myself??) and write this book. I wonder if this would help? Beautiful post, sister. You painted every picture.
Shannon, I hear you. And I wonder if Amy (right above your comment) has given us a key that can unlock the code and free us from all that struggling? When I was writing the first version of my manuscript, I struggled to find my voice and not have it get lost in the sea of what I thought people wanted from me. When I get the edits back, I’m going to try (but not try-hard) to be true to me. Whether people want that or not. It’s a terrifying thought because, after all, in addition to being a ministry, book-writing is also a business.
It’s funny . . . I realized not too long ago that “the book” He’s got for me has already been written . . . all longhand. 🙂 I’m a journal-writer and it’s all there. The “right” one, not the try-hard one. 🙂
You make such a great distinction between the “right” and try-hard. Isn’t that true of everything? Are we living our “right” life (the one that may have gotten lost on the sidewalk) or a try-hard version of the free life we’ve been promised? I want to read that book. When you’re ready.
Writing longhand and journaling are synonymous for me. I have journals full of random thoughts and reflections. I have a deep desire to gather those thoughts together thematically, like a database would if I had typed and tagged all those words in. A longhand database…this is what I want to create. I love that writing shows us where we’ve been, how far we’ve come…it does open us up. My favorite quote on writing: “Writing makes a person very vulnerable…it brings us into contact with our souls” ~Joan Chittister
A longhand database. Wouldn’t that be something?Have you heard of Livescribe? I think they want what you want. Here’s some copy from the website:
Handwritten notes instantly appear on your iPad, iPhone or iPod.
Records audio that’s synchronized with your written notes using the mics on your iPad or iPhone.
In the Livescribe+ mobile app, notes become useful when they are tagged, searchable or converted to text.
Easily integrate your notes with the rest of your mobile life – create tasks, reminders, calendar events, contacts and more with just a few taps of your finger.
Cool, huh?
I write longhand in my unlined journal. The past few weeks have been more consistent for me than the previous few months. There is something refreshing, restoring, and reflective about writing this way. Some of these entries make it into a blog post or idea, but many times they just rest in the journal where they simmer.
Jon, do you always write in the same place, or does your unlined journal travel with you?
It travels with me.
I love that you have friends who speak deeply into your life and also nudge you with challenges. It’s funny because when I began blogging 8 years ago, I never thought I could get away from writing longhand…the keyboard seemed difficult and cumbersome. Now it is an exercise in expediency. But I do love writing morning pages…a la Julia Cameron. I found that when I begin again after a long absence, my scribbling is an unburdening of what has piled up. As the days unfold, one morning I will begin to write and discover I am writing about the present and not so much past tense. I love how powerful this type of writing can be. I know that it saved me during a very tumultuous season in my life years ago. Baroque music…what a wonderful idea!
Yeah. An unburdening. I can get some of that unburdening typing on my laptop, but something is clearly different when I put pen to paper. It makes a difference.
I’ve wanted to try writing beore the Blessed Sacrament at church for a while, because I read somewhere that is where Mother Teresa did all her writing. But I was too lazy to do it, because I didn’t want to drag my old laptop with me. Maybe the obvious choice is right in front of me – pen and paper! Thanks for the inspiration.
We spend an hour a day before the Blessed Sacrament as a family. I write in my prayer journal and my writing journal while I am there. You know what is so amazing about it? It feels spacious in His presence. Like you breathe and let your pen lead the way to letting your thoughts flow. Try it!
Oh that is beautiful! In the last year I’ve just discovered the powerful peace that comes when I sit in Adoration. I converted to Catholicism a decade ago, and I’m still unwrapping all its sacred mysteries. Such gifts God gives us while we wait for Him!
Oh how I love this conversation! I am a journaler… writing by hand on paper… lined, unlined… bound or loose. There is something holy in the process of writing it down… letting it come out slow, in curves and crosses. When we type – we can let the words fly fast, but in the writing of it all out, we have to allow the thoughts to roll around a bit until we catch up. It makes me fully process and read back and see what I believe. I’ve found that my ‘style’ or penmanship differs depending on what I am writing about and I can tell in the re-reading if I was actually grasping the words and embracing them… or just entertaining them as if they weren’t my own (yet.)
“Curves and crosses.” I like that.
The other night, Teddy and were working on one of his college admission essays. Finally, he wanted to take a break. He reappeared a couple hours later with two pages of longhand. “I remembered the last essay I wrote that I like was written out this way,” he said. When I am at my best writing, I am doing the morning pages as a practice. Sadly, it’s usually the first thing to go when life gets busy. I still do an abbreviated form of journaling in my quiet time, but it’s nothing like sitting and pouring out words for 20-30 minutes.
And you know it was that picture that brought me over here from my inbox, right?
Good for him! I don’t think I knew how to connect with myself when I was Teddy’s age. He’ll do well in college. He will.
This post has my name written across it–LONGHAND, of course! This is so serendipitous! I was LITERALLY just thinking this morning–lamenting, really–that children of today are not going to know how to write longhand, or what we would call cursive. Yes, one can print longhand in that sense, but there is even something amazing about cursive writing which affects the brain and makes connections and loops in one’s thinking, literally and figuratively. I have been journaling for over forty years now, and this practice has changed my life. It’s interesting that you should mention a blank journal, Deidra, because I started writing on looseleaf paper, then in a small, lined notebook. Then I graduated to a school-sized simple spiral. Then, from there I moved onto a five-subject ruled notebook (can you tell I was getting more passionate?), and THEN, I started writing in a blank artist’s sketchbook. I remember when I made that leap, and the “blankness” of it seemed disarming . . . not so much as a line to anchor my words. But I also realized that the lines were too predictable, and that my writing itself was becoming more of a think-between-the lines proposition. I never knew what I would write when I picked up my pen, and the blank page was more inviting for freewheeling thought. Blank journals also invite more creativity–opportunities to whisk out that china marker for highlighting or colored markers for accentuating, room to doodle around the edges, write in other colors in and around words or underneath or above them, do art-collage or sketch right onto the pages or in the inside covers for beauty and symbolism. So, yes, blank books are both invitational and inviting. While I have experimented with “pretty” blank books, I much prefer the roominess of an 8 1/2 x 11 artist’s sketchbook, because they are very professional-looking, have creamy vellum paper (onto which the pen can artfully do a “glissando”), and they are acid-free. What we write has such value, that we want to be able to preserve it. I used to suggest to my journal students to go cheap and just get any old notebook–in other words, they could really save money and not make a big investment. However, regrettably, I have discovered that the acid has eaten through my words in my early notebooks, and now they are barely discernable. So take the plunge, and spring for a better book. That said, these books can be found very cheaply at back-to-school sales in art stores in September. I generally pay no more than $5. One of your commenters mentioned Julia Cameron’s Morning Pages (recommended in The Artist’s Way), and while the concept was not new to her, it’s more of a free-association form of writing. I love the idea of directing what I write to God (a concept I think you have read about in my book). I write quite conversationally to Him–and yes, this is prayer–but the informality of writing longhand whatever was on my mind, in a conversational tone–freed me to talk to Him like nothing else could. There is something about the act of writing, itself, which is completely freeing. King David knew this when he penned his psalms. Many saints of the faith have discovered it, both ancient and contemporary. And certainly there are current studies (see in particular psychologist Dr. James Pennebaker) who have shown the benefits of longhand writing for as little as twenty minutes per day for four days to heal people of trauma and its aftermath. The results have been staggering. Certainly, beyond prayer and stream-of-thought writing, one can use journaling as a springboard for creativity to write story, drama, prose, poetry, and to flesh-out dreams, ideas, and inspiration. I also collect random observations, quotations, conversations snippets, and article seeds in my journal’s blank pages–all done longhand, of course. While using a computer is better than not writing at all, there is something intuitive about allowing thoughts to flow from head to heart to hand, that connects us to God and to ourselves in a sensual, visceral, and memorable way. When one writes, and I mean literally writes, one is leaving an indelible imprint, a personal legacy behind–something unique to only her–like fingerprints. I’m glad you are journaling, Deidra. Your life will change. You will be enriched. You really should include journaling sessions at your retreat! ~Love, Lynn
Oh and yes, I have changed from journaling in ways too numerous to count. The healing is extraordinary, and I’m convinced God used this gift, this vehicle, long-hand writing as His method to do it!
Lynn, you know I was thinking of you while I wrote this, right?
Maybe. . . maybe. . . I ‘ll try it. But here’s my problem: it actually hurts to write longhand these days. And then I can hardly read it. The candle I get, the music, I don’t cuz I like it really quiet. But I’m willing to try cuz I’m stuck and extremely resistant these days. Not sure I’ve lost myself, but I have lost some writing mojo, I think.
Me too, Diana. It hurts my hand, and my fingers feel as if they’re going freeze around that pen and I imagine having to call H in to my office to pry the pen out of my hand. I used to have really great handwriting. If I try, I can still make it happen, but some days, I wonder what in the world it was I wrote on the page. I guess, the bottom line is that legible isn’t necessarily the goal. It’s the act of taking the pen up in these stubborn hands of ours and wrestling out the words so that they loop (or spike) across the page. There is something about the act of writing on paper with pen or pencil that gets to a place inside of us nothing else can reach. Maybe it’s because we’re writers? I hope you try it.
I’m typing this with aching fingers after having written my thirty minutes because I missed the ritual this morning. I had to take my son and his girlfriend to the airport and so my day was set back and only now am I sitting down with the candle and the music and the dog and a cup of tea. And all I can say, from the bottom of my heart, is that I hope you try it. Doodle with markers. Draw hashtags in pencil across the page. Write the alphabet. But, try it.
“I had lost myself” Yes. I’ve been busy going about the work of rediscovering my footing and the Path I’m supposed to be on. I, too, had nearly lost myself. In the 3 years I’ve been writing out here– I think I’m closer than ever before to getting back to the center of it all. Yes to the longhand… I always start this way… for all the reasons you say here.
I’m glad you’re finding your way back.
Deidra,
I write longhand in a lined journal, almost every day….and the brain research says it helps to link up both our logical left and more feeling oriented right side of our brains…it is all good …great actually 🙂
Loved your other post….didn’t get a chance to comment…Thanks for sharing what you’re trying 🙂
I’ll have to try the candle 🙂
Hey, let me know if you try the candle!
I loved all these comments. Without even realizing it, I too journal longhand but it seems to be a little of this and a little of that. Many of the comments here include ideas that end up in my journals too. One is a prayer journal which came first and then a “thinking journal” which tagged along later and includes scriptures, quotes, sentences from songs/hymns. Sometimes my journal entries get mixed up and find their way to the wrong journal. Not a problem…Jesus is welcome in all pages of both journals. Some days you can’t even tell the difference in journals.
I have many different colors of ink and most days I switch colors. It is a lovely habit that chose and I am delighted to find that others share in it too.
Can’t tell you how much your blog has meant to me Deidra. Some day I’ll share…
I added color to my journal yesterday, after reading through these comments. I’m really enjoying this conversation, and I hope to hear more of your story one day soon.
It almost feels more real, more of a personal extension of me when I write with pen and paper… Maybe because that’s how I write those personal notes and cards.. Or maybe because I have received them that way from people no longer walking this dirt..
The words I spoke at my mom’s service.. the ones that started in my head the month before on the drive away from her bedside..they finally spilled out and made “sense” the morning hours before that service, in pen on yellow legal pad
I have a tub of little spiral notebooks that my mother-in-law wrote in in the years before her death. Some of the things on the pages are grocery lists, or phone numbers, or appointments she needed to make. But other pages include journaling words. All of it is in her own hand—an extension of her, like you said. That tub of journals is one of my greatest treasures.