Sensory Pleasures: Finding inspiration in the tactile

The blank page can be intimidating. Nothing brings me back to the mindset of college essay-cramming like the blinking cursor of an abysmal Word document, its digital page a pixelated white.

Where I was happiest writing, before all of the classes and workshops and books on craft (as much as I love all of those instructional tools) was when I was fourteen, filling a ninety-nine cent composition book with my black Papermate felt tips. Walking barefoot in parks, laying under trees on lazy summer days, in my own clandestine world. There were no editors, no grades. Just reckless abandon, curiosity, discovery.

My writing process doesn’t look the way it did then, but it also doesn’t have one look. Sometimes the words are right there, and I need the functionality of an open Google doc.

But sometimes, I need to change up the experience. I have a friend who uses fountain pens and writes in painstakingly lovely cursive; she has found what is pleasurable for her. For me, this is agonizing. Fountain pens require too much maintenance, and I can’t write in regular cursive anymore — my hands move too fast, working in their messy hybrid of cursive and print that has become my handwriting. Even if I slow down and try calligraphy, my own hand will come through, as messy and telltale as it is.

For journaling, I’ve found my perfect book: an unruled, hardcover black 8”x5” moleskin journal. The pens change. I go through phases of a few: Pilot V7, Uniball Roller. At the moment, it’s Stabilo fine point. Always black ink, no matter the brand; that is nonnegotiable.

Sometimes I draft things in my Moleskine; if not full essays, often poems, vignettes, or outlines. But sometimes, I get a nice ornate journal — not sparkly or flowery, still unruled if possible, but a rich buttery leather that costs $30 or more, that flops open on my lap, that smells and feels wonderful. Writing can be work, it can be a chore, but it can also be a sensory pleasure, so why not make it that?

You don’t need to have a draft planned before you indulge in your writing tools. Sometimes the writing tools can come first. Treat yourself to a pen that feels good in your hand, a notebook that smells nostalgic, or even a word processing app that looks less scary (I like Bear, personally, and the premium version is still low-cost). Turn off your editorial voice, as much as you can, and look at what’s ahead of you: raw possibility.

Make it an experience. The more pleasure you find in writing, the more pleasure will be in reading.

R