Doin’ it up Old School

Yah…after my scary, um, migraine post, I thought it would be a good idea to go back to posting about writing. My sincerest apologies to the men out there and all that “lady stuff talk”, as well as to the spammers who are going to pick up “balls” mentioned numerous times on their SEO engine and think this is a WHOLE different kind of a blog.

So, yah, writing… when I first started writing compulsively, I did it in a spiral notebook, mostly because my husband stays up late, and it allowed me to write in bed alone and just hide it away. At that time, the only person I was sharing my work with was my wonderful friend, Amy, who emailed me the post from the inspirational speaker about, well, sharing my crazy dreams(see How I Got Here, Part 2). That was four years ago. I still write fairly frequently in a spiral notebook.

I have been asked numerous times why, in this digital age when I  have so many tools for dictation at my fingertips, I would bother with something as pedestrian as a 4th grader’s way of keeping their newly learned cursive in between the lines. Here are my reasons:

-Extremely cheap. A seventy-page, or one subject, spiral notebook should run you about a buck-fifty if you pick it up at the local drug or grocery store with your other odd items. That works in conveniently with my LCS. At one point I was writing  spec scripts, pilot scripts, and my novel all at the same time. I color-coordinated the covers for each one, and it was still less than five bucks.

-Sorry Edison, no electricity required. There are no batteries that die in a spiral notebook. There’s no back-light or e-ink to wash away when I forget to plug it in. There’s no plug in, no cord to trip over, no adapter to forget somewhere.

-The only processor I have to worry about is in my head. That’s right, no RAM to upgrade, no hard drive to crash, no infections to catch, no losing anything because I forgot to SAVE. I can leave a notebook thrown on the floor in the back of my pick-up for a couple of seasons, getting squished, trampled on and covered in God-knows what, and I can still pick it up and go, “Oh, yeah, I was going to do that spec for “The Mentalist”, and start reading (it actually wasn’t too bad. Still almost relevant). If I have the stomach for it, I can wipe it down and use the rest of that spiral notebook.

Last time I checked, it’s still called “writing.” I’m an artist at heart. The act of creating something visual is a personal and sacred thing to me. In my head, I’m probably still that 4th grader trying to keep my cursive in between the lines. An empty notebook is actually kind of exciting. Just imagine what I can put there.

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