Nothing can replace the experience of writing on paper, so why seek out a digital replacement?
Last month, I faced a predicament: How should I organize and manage all my projects? I’m a freelance editor; I have to organize my client work smartly, otherwise I won’t finish the work on time and get paid. I manage several projects with multiple clients, and sometimes I get overwhelmed.
I looked at my schedule and my to-do list scattered across four apps on my phone and a half-used notebook on my desk. I went through my stuff to organize it, and it dawned on me that I had a problem: I spent too much time playing with organization apps and programs in an attempt to perfect my productivity, but I didn’t spend enough time actually being productive. Continue reading →
Recently, I wrote about how I’m adopting a morning pages writing routine. So far, it’s working out well. I’ve used my morning pages to come up with ideas for writing projects, and at times it’s served as a “brain dump.”
My morning pages time is as low-fi as possible for it to succeed. I never use the computer for this type of writing, and that’s not just because of the distractions on the internet. It’s also because I prefer to do my most important writing in notebooks. I’ve written about this topic before (“Notebook Afflictions“), and it’s something very important to my writing process.
Writing by hand is laborious, and that is why typewriters were invented. But I believe that the labor has virtue, because of its very physicality. For one thing it involves flesh, blood and the thingness of pen and paper, those anchors that remind us that, however thoroughly we lose ourselves in the vortex of our invention, we inhabit a corporeal world.
This idea of inhabiting “a corporeal world” strikes me. It’s something I still experience when I take the time to write in longhand. Although it’s a longer writing process, it’s quicker in the long-term because it sticks in my mind and stays there.
Funnily enough, I remember a piece of writing better if I wrote it by hand before typing it out. It’s a more intimate writing experience.
I feel the same way when I read a physical book and mark in the margins. It feels fuller, somehow. This is an experience that, as much as I’ve tried, can’t be replicated in a digital space (yet).
As I’ve said before, this is why balancing your productive life between digital and physical spaces is so important: it helps you inhabit that “corporeal world” more fully.
What do you think? Can we ever get to a point where digital technology replicates the physical space of writing with pen and paper? Can it ever match that feeling of physicality when writing longhand?