I realized very early in my life, the power of words; how much happiness they could bring but also, how much pain they could deliver. So ever since I can remember, I wrote. I wrote on paper, in notebooks, on chalkboards, in journals, on walls, scrap pieces of paper or on my skin, absolutely anywhere there was space for me to write. I would write poetry, stories, fragments or thoughts about my life and it was there, that I discovered my beautiful relationship with pencils. The idea that I could write whatever I wanted about myself, regardless of its substance and then erase all the mistakes I made or thought I made, was an exciting concept for me. It was as if nothing was forever. Nothing. And with one fell swoop of the erasure, my words would vanish and I could start over. I think a lot of writers prefer to master their craft in pen. Only because what, at one time, could be considered bad writing or a mistake, may one day present itself as a useful idea with new life, new meaning. Pens naturally have a smoother flow, a more even pressure when applying to paper. It has a permanency. Whereas my writing once erased, is gone forever unless I miraculously come up with the same idea at another place and time. This usually does not happen. My brain is far too busy to retain something I thought of yesterday, let alone, years before. With the invention of the computer, my writing completely changed as did everyone else’s I suppose. It was similar to the pencil in the fact that all you had to do was highlight words and then hit delete, much like the erasure. But different in the fact that you could simply hit “undo” if you made a mistake in mistaking your mistake was a mistake. Simply marvelous, really. Plus with things like a built in thesaurus, spell check, grammar check, well, what’s not for a writer to love? My like for the computer is simply because after being a secretary for so many years, I can type Mach 4 which is about the speed my brain operates. It is too bad for my beloved pencil which has struggled for years to keep up with my thoughts. The process of having to stop writing because my cramped hand can no longer stand the pain is often a necessity. But with a couple shakes of it or some stretching, I am back in the game with pencil in hand. Will I ever resort to using a pen, a computer, a crayon if need be? Absolutely. I would prick my finger and write in my own blood if I thought it was the only way I would be able to write. But today, in honor of the pencil, I write this draft on a college lined piece of paper while using my favorite
