Over the years writing became a chore rather than a pleasure. It was synonymous with volume, quantity, content, purpose. It needed to be fast, legible and be able to be reproduced. So words were typed, at speed, with little connection felt between my fingers and the pixels which ran along the screen. The words lost the connection which brought them to life. Although the words were meaningful and significant, they lacked the vigour that physically, directly producing them would have provided. Since then, writing in any format has been something only visited when needed - lists, notes, greetings cards and so on. And otherwise digital. Somehow impermanent and whitewashed almost immediately with the movement of social media updates.
Despite my love for words, whether literary or linguistic, I've neglected to foster it over the last five years or so. I've tried half hearted attempts at blogging, short stories, poetry, songwriting and more. But almost all of that had been on screen. The art of writing for me, is not contained only in the semantics and syntax, but in the physical production of the words. The nuances and unique flare found in an individuals handwriting. This is why I am sad. There's a quality to writing which is rapidly being lost and forgotten to all but young children who are taught to write for a future which may not require the skill at all. It's ironic really.
posted from Bloggeroid