What if as the worlds poured out from your fingertips, you couldn’t see what you just put down. Would that change the way you write? Would you rehearse the words over and over again in your head? Would the writing be more clear?
Is it almost like…speech? Where once a word is said, then it is gone. No takebacks. No deletions. No revisions.
I write this as my vision is blurred from dilation from an eye exam. I would have rather opted out, but I wasn’t given an option. And for the next several hours (and hopefully less), I cannot see (clearly) anything close-up. I need to squint to read reads, especially those on screens. But it occurred to me, would it make a difference in writing if I couldn’t see? If I couldn’t mercilessly return over and over again to my work? Would I be less critical? Much like the time that my broke my right hand and had to literally write my left hand (during that semester, my handwriting was horrible and I could never read it). Would I get a free pass?
Certainly not due to the high standards I hold myself up to. But I keep asking myself over and over again. Would I behave differently? Would I question myself if the words never had to go in front of my prying eyes? That the writing that flows out, just simply flows…and it waits until the sun has passed where I can visibly view again for critique?
This is what I actually love about Twitter. The characters limit forces me to get a thought out and done. I delete a lot of tweets a couple days later, after I feel like their utility — link-sharing, thought-sharing, or a hi — has been accomplished. It’d be a fun experiment to put some great writers in a room — David Sedaris, John Grogan — and say, “Write. No deleting. Just write,” and see what they churn out ten minutes later. How did you break your hand?
a fall from skiing. although apparently the bone in that hand was already weak and would have broken at some point.