Speed and efficiency are precisely what I don't need when I write. When I was a child my mother would take me to the newspaper office where she worked, and I would watch in wonder as she tapped out a feature article from her notes, reviewed it for typos, and submitted it a few minutes later. I could not write that way and, as I am not a journalist, I don't need to write that way. My notebooks and draft printouts are scarred with entire lines or paragraphs struck out, additions and comments running through the margins in all directions, and boxes and arrows doing the work of 'cut and paste'.
I couldn't write journalism, reportage or any other style that requires fast responses. I am a naturally slow thinker. Questions, problems and ideas simmer in my mind over weeks or months before I feel ready to share them with others. I can just about keep pace with university subjects that run over thirteen weeks. I panic in situations that require quick decisions.
Writing by hand suits this way of thinking. My canned response to the people who expect me to type everything is, 'I type faster than I think'. I still labour over the formation of legible words in ink. When I type, my fingers race over the keyboard, and if my mind has not found any words to type, the whole process seems to break down. However, my writing hand keeps good pace with my mind.
Transcribing handwritten drafts does require more labour. This is one reason why only a small proportion of what I write reaches other people. The process of writing is a valuable discipline. It is a form of exercise and, for me at least, writing by hand gives delight to mind that it does not get from typing. So I do write a lot by hand—but much of that writing is only useful as a warmup. Does what I have written justify the effort of electronic transcription? Usually, I decide that it doesn't. I'm sure I often make poor judgments in what I do or do not publish. But writing slowly, then typing, provides some protection against regrettable errors.
