Issue 36: The Morning I Stopped Typing First

Dear reader,

For about eleven years I started every piece of writing the same way. Laptop open, cursor blinking, and me typing the first thing that arrived. It felt productive. It also produced sentences that sounded like every other sentence I'd ever typed, because they were. The hand finds the groove it already knows.

Three weeks ago I tried something stupid and small. I put the laptop in a drawer, took a cheap notebook to the kitchen table, and wrote the first page of the week's letter by hand. That's all. No ritual, no candles, no special pen (I used whatever was nearest, a leaking blue thing from a bank).

What changed first

The speed, obviously. I can type fifty words in the time it takes to write twenty, and I'd always treated that as a virtue. It turns out to be a trap. Typing lets you commit to a sentence before you've decided whether you believe it. By hand, you notice the doubt in the middle of the line, and you can stop.

The first morning I crossed out nearly half a page. I felt a small, shameful relief, like finding out the thing you were dreading was a lot smaller than expected.

What changed second

My openings got worse and my middles got better. I wrote some truly terrible first paragraphs, stiff and over-explained, and then somewhere on page two the voice turned up as if it had been waiting outside. When I typed the pages up afterwards, I kept the middle and threw away the front. A few of you wrote to say that the last two letters felt quieter and warmer. I think this is why.

What hasn't changed

I still do the real editing on a screen. I'm not telling you to give up your laptop, and I'd be suspicious of anyone who did. The point isn't pens. The point is that a change in the friction changes the thinking, and you rarely know which friction you need until you try a few.

A small experiment, if you want one

Pick one piece of writing this week and change one thing about how it begins. Handwrite it. Dictate it into your phone while walking. Write the ending first. Don't judge the result; just notice which version sounds more like you on a good day.

I'd love to hear what you try. Hit reply and tell me, and I'll share a couple of the best in a future issue.

Until next Friday, be gentle with your first drafts. They're not on trial.

Yours in ink and error, Hollis

P.S. If this letter was forwarded to you, you can find more in the essays archive. I'd be glad to have you.