“Good writing is like a windowpane.” – George Orwell
I go back and forth about my writing process. A part of me loves writing my stories out by hand. There’s something intensely satisfying about the way the pages feel when they’ve been filled with words. The texture the pen creates, the color of the ink, the vague uniformity of the handwritten lines, and the sporadic, occasionally violent instances where the pen executes misguided words. Handwriting them also means that there’s a hard copy that transcends changes in technology (there are some files I can no longer get to because they were put on floppy disks; yeah remember those?). Retyping has also become a helpful step in my editing process. I have all the changes made on record that way.
It would be a very good system… if I could make myself stick to it. Unfortunately, what ends up happening is I want someone to read the beginning of something to get an opinion or see if a passage makes sense and I have to type it up so I can give them a copy that isn’t the only hard copy I possess. Once a piece is typed, I have a hard time making myself go back to the notebook or journal where I started, leaving the original incomplete. And it bothers me to start something new on the next page because the one before it isn’t finished, at least, not there. This is the reason I have an entire desk full of notebooks and journals with projects started and a folder on my computer where they’re completed.
Here’s Rosewood Manor – Chapter 3. Soon I’ll be done retyping this incomplete work and I’ll be able to put the notebook back in the desk.
Excerpt from Rosewood Manor – Chapter 3:
The next month came and Charles prepared to visit Rosewood and Elizabeth readied the house for a few days without her, as she was to accompany him. Charles asked Robert to go as well but Robert refused. Robert had withdrawn into himself more and more over the past few months. Charles often wondered where Robert disappeared to each day. He hadn’t mentioned it to his father, but Robert would leave the store for hours at a time without a word to anyone.