Brain Ruffage

As anyone who regulary puts their thoughts, feelings, ambitions, rants or raves into words will attest, the process of writing changes immensely if you trade the keyboard for the quill, or vice versa. I, like most, find my writing seems to depend as much on the mode of record as the mood or subject portrayed.

My prose becomes more abstract, even bizarre, when I put pen to paper. Give me a keyboard, and everything straightens up. I go limp (read linear), unable to jump over the chasms of logic I've for so long leapt with glee.

I started to notice this when I was still writing for the Westender. My best work, in my opinion, was always written on paper, usually at a coffee shop or in transit. The work my editors preferred, on the other hand, always came through a mild QWERTY haze. The ol' brain just can't stay active with the bluish glow of the monitor to hypnotize the user. Too passive, this.

Also, I experience far more blockage in front of the computer. The Artist's Way suggests three pages of morning writing to burn the crap off the top of your brain. I liken it more to a laxative than a controlled burn. Pulp and paper, as cerebral fibre. Typing all the time's like a steady diet of filet mignon. Great for a meal or two, but the colon just doesn't appreciate an -- ahem -- regular regimen of beef.

My headal colon, then, needs a rest. Out, damn clot! Get thee to a diary!