…I must get an ink pen. I have always enjoyed the glide of the nib over rag paper, the rasp and scratch so distinct from pencil or ball point, sometimes hurried almost angry and now more leisurely and contemplative.
Pencils are nicely musical at times and sharp has two meanings also. I’ve composed most of my articles and scholarly papers in pencil, jotting down, scribbling in margins, lining through, crossing out, making notes, outlining, expanding it then finally typing what may be close to a final draft.
Somehow having pencil in hand meshes the two arenas, physical and mental to produce something of substance that is words on paper. Without getting too metaphysical, the graphite mark of connected line tracing out letters creates a physical thing which I have created. It becomes my word representing my thought and my labor.
Others may write the same word but it is not the same.
Typewriters also have a charm about them and in a newsroom can certainly be musical.
Alas, there is no music and nothing of substance in computers…

@nosheeping: you betcha! no important decision gets made in this house now without lots of F-R-E-E-Writing all round.

@ Harvey: The great thing about F-R-E-E-Writing is: it takes that pressure off. I have used this technique with groups who had very underdeveloped literacy skills (immigrants, recovering drug users) but they were still able to access the benefits. All that is necessary with F-R-E-E-Writing is that you can communicate with/understand yourself.

I completely agree that free writing can be therapeutic. It can be essential in helping one work out there thoughts as well as very useful in developing ones opinion on the pros and cons of a big life choice.

I did not know that there was a name for this exercise. The first time I did something similar was in high school. Our English teacher instructed us to just write what was on our mind at that precise moment. We had two minutes, I believe, and then we had to read them aloud to the class.

I remember the first one she read aloud (no names were given) was basically a regurgitation of the material we had been learning in that class to date. I remember that horrible sinking feeling in my stomach, thinking I had completely missed the point of the exercise, because I had written exactly what was on my mind, which was stuff like “I hate my pants, it’s sunny out, wonder what I’m having for dinner” and the like. Then she read several more and I realized I had nothing to fear as mine was very similar to the majority of the other students. WHEW.

It was a great exercise and I haven’t thought of it in years!

I can see how such an exercise now, for me, would have good potential to be therapeutic and cartharctic. I’d have to type it rather than hand write it though … I have no patience for handwriting anything nowadays.