The Benefits of Longhand

I wrote my last novel, Toklat's Daughter, in two Moleskine notebooks using a pencil.  I've always enjoyed handwriting stories, but Toklat's Daughter was the first full-length novel I've written entirely by hand.  Now, I am approximately 20k-words into my next novel, and it too is being written by hand, with a pencil, in a Moleskine notebook. 

First drafts, I've decided, should be handwritten.  I truly believe this.  I’m aware that no two writers approach the process of writing a story the same way (this post is written with fiction writers in mind, but I think the ideas involved in the longhand versus typing issue apply to all writers), and some writers would abandon the craft entirely before they’d agree to handwrite an entire novel.

Their loss, I say.

First of all, one of the most common arguments I’ve seen for typing a first draft—It’s so much faster!—is the exact reason why longhand is the superior medium: longhand slows you down.  I think differently when I write longhand.  I feel like I’m closer to the language, probably because I’m not buzzing through my story at a hundred words per minute; or maybe it’s simply because I’m dealing with paper and pencil (or pen) and not slow-burning my eyes with a laptop screen.  It’s true that the whole point of a first draft is getting the story out, which some argue implies speed, but shouldn’t a writer be as close to his or her language as possible during the actual writing process?  We get better at things when we slow down and reflect on them, and getting the story out needn’t necessarily coincide with breakneck writing speeds. 

Too, longhand leaves more artifacts.  No legal pad or Moleskine notebook is equipped with a delete or backspace key.  When writing in longhand, we work with the language and our actual documents in ways frequently skipped or glossed over when options like copy/paste, delete, and find/replace are available.  Sure, handwriting can be crossed out or erased, but those tasks leave artifacts.  There is a certain kind of beauty, I think, to a notebook full of crossed out words, lines and paragraphs; circles; arrows; scribbles in margins; sticky notes; eraser smudges; etc. and etc.  Sure, any rough draft, whether handwritten or typed, is going to eventually look like a gutted animal (or it should), but frequently, typed rough drafts, by the time they’re printed, are a more polished shell of what they once were, whereas those written in longhand are almost entirely still there, original sins and errors and all, in some form or fashion.  These are those previously mentioned artifacts, and frequently, there are lessons to be learned from them. 

Finally, I appreciate both the lack of distractions and the portability that come with longhand.  Pencils and notebooks require no power supply.  They have no internet connection.  As a teacher and a lawyer, I am on the go frequently, and I find it nearly impossible to write novels on cell phones or tablets (even with the existence of fine mobile apps like Pages and Scrivener).  My laptop, while very portable, is not always a feasible companion.  My notebook, however, is.  In On Writing, Stephen King discusses the importance of learning to read in small doses; ideally, readers should not require perfect conditions and huge blocks of free time in order to enjoy reading.  I agree with this, and I think the concept should be applied to writing, too.  My novels get written not only at my house, but in my classroom, in coffee shops, in waiting rooms; they’re written before the school day starts and in the last few minutes of my lunch break.  Some days, I knock out a thousand or more words, but more often than not, maybe half of that.  But they do get written, and I don’t know if that would always be true if I were at the mercy of a computer. 

So, fellow writers, give longhand a shot if you haven’t already.  Let us all get closer to our language and bask in the beautiful sights of ugly, marked-up first drafts that go with us everywhere we go.  Because, regarding first drafts, the soft scraping sound of pencil on paper is more preferable than the steady hum of a keyboard.