Writing

I have a thing about pencils. Most writers do. We can hold this magical instrument in our hand — like a musician with a violin or an artist with a paintbrush  — and we can create a world that didn’t exist before. And all this magical instrument requires is a little sharpening now and then to keep it working.

Despite my love of pencils however, I write on a modern invention called a computer, and up until recently, I did all my revising on one too.

But a troubled WIP that I’d revised way too many times on my computer led me to pick up a pencil and edit the old-fashioned way. I’d forgotten how different it was to look at the pages with my fingers curled around a pencil and scribble my edits instead of type them. I’d forgotten how editing by hand changed the way I viewed the story. Simply said, I’d forgotten the magic of the humble pencil.

We all know that people write less today than generations before us, which is no surprise, given the multitude of electronic devices at our disposal, and the fact that kids aren’t even taught handwriting in most U.S. schools anymore. Some people bemoan this trend, citing that the difference between writing on a keyboard versus with a writing instrument is huge. Experts say that handwriting is a complex task requiring numerous skills — feeling the pen and paper, moving the writing implement, and directing movement by thought. These same processes don’t occur when typing on a keyboard — you just have to press the keys.

Some neuroscientists even go so far as to say that giving up handwriting may affect how future generations learn to read, because drawing letters by hand improves recognition. Research has found that note-taking with a pen instead of with a keyboard may give students a better grasp of the subject. Students at Princeton and UCLA who took longhand notes were better able to answer questions after a lecture, perhaps because they summarized and comprehended the material as they wrote their notes instead of typed them.

While doing my hand-edit, I rediscovered the flexibility a pencil and paper allows — scribbling in the margins, crossing things out then adding them back in again, and flipping back and forth between pages instead of scrolling up and down a screen. With a pencil and paper, it was all there right in front of me, a visual and tactile record of my edits in various stages of creativity.

I missed my old friend, the pencil.

I’m happy to see there are some signs that writing with a pencil (or pen) isn’t going the way of the rotary phone. In France, for example, students are still taught handwriting, beginning at age six. Ah France. They think writing by hand is a key part of cognitive development. Merci.

Also, pencil collector and lifelong pencil lover Caroline Weaver recently opened a store in New York — CW Pencil Enterprises — that sells numerous varieties of pencils.  Many of them sell out quickly.

And the ballpoint pen, first invented in the 1940s, is actually still the most widely-used writing instrument today. I bet you have one in your purse or backpack right now.

So I hope there is hope that pencils and pens will still be around for future generations. Pick one up and hold it in your hand. Voila! Your brain magically becomes the keyboard. Whoa. What a concept.

Michele Weber Hurwitz is the author of The Summer I Saved the World…in 65 Days and Calli Be Gold, both from Wendy Lamb Books/Penguin Random House. Visit her at micheleweberhurwitz.com.

The last day of August is always bittersweet for me, as I’m sure it is for many. It shouldn’t be so monumental, I suppose. It’s just one day to the next. The weather’s usually about the same, the trees are still full and green, and there’s not even anything on the calendar of note, like the Autumnal Equinox, which doesn’t occur until September 23 this year.

It somehow is monumental though, saying goodbye to August. School has already started for most kids, and fall isn’t yet in the air, but this day feels more like the end of summer than any other. Even the two words evoke different feelings. August = long, lazy afternoons, corn on the cob and lemonade, late night sunsets. September = crisp new notebooks, leaves curling around the edges, reaching for that jacket for the first time since April.

The end of August invariably makes me think of all the things I planned to do this summer — mostly the things I had high hopes of accomplishing back in June but somehow didn’t get to.

There’s the tall stack of books on my nightstand I vowed to read, plans to take my laptop outside and write whatever came into my mind, and the revision of a WIP I aimed to tackle while my kids were busy with their summer jobs and activities.

Oh, well.

The end of August is always a reflective time for me too. And as I look back, although I may not have read or written or revised as much as I planned, I did something else that’s equally important for writers, kids, teachers…everyone. I gave my brain a much-needed rest. I pondered. I picked blueberries. I spent time with my kids. I walked every day. I observed and listened and took stock. I watched fireflies and scratched mosquito bites and marveled at the beauty of the season.

This was the summer of M locations for me and my family — we visited Madison, Milwaukee, Michigan, Manhattan, and Montreal.

Since we didn’t have an international data plan and couldn’t (gasp) use Google maps on our phones, my son and I found our way around Montreal with a good, old fashioned multi-folded paper map. I forgot how fun and satisfying that is. He loved it, and so did I.

My younger daughter and I discovered Madison’s best ice cream at The Chocolate Shoppe, where a sign proudly proclaims their ice cream isn’t low fat, low calorie or low anything, and if you want something nutritious, eat carrots. Gotta love that.

My older daughter and I laughed for days about how her flip flop was swallowed up in a deep, muddy patch of blueberry bushes in Michigan. She finished filling her bucket while barefoot, mud squishing between her toes. Instagraming the moment, of course.

So there were things accomplished this summer. Many things. Things that perhaps can’t take place in any other season. And now, as September first arrives tomorrow, I will turn to my reading stack and laptop and WIP, feeling sad that August is over, but re-energized to start anew.

Michele Weber Hurwitz is the author of The Summer I Saved the World in 65 Days and Calli Be Gold, both from Wendy Lamb Books. Visit her at micheleweberhurwitz.com.