I admire pre-word processor writers. Particularly columnists like Mike Royko and Herb Caen, and feature writer Joseph Mitchell. Their words read weightier, as if you can feel the effort it took to strike the typewriter key to engrave the letters onto the page.

For example, in the last sentence I initially wrote the word 'engrave,' them changed it to 'impress,' then changed it back again. I changed it twice by using the pink eraser on the end of the #2 pencil. Whether or not you agree with the word choice [I think engrave works because a typewriter key bangs a physical indent onto the paper], writing with a pencil gives me time to question and think about word choice that you sometimes don't get with flying fingers.

I was in Staples a couple weeks ago, needing to buy some sort of professional tool/toy, and decided on a 12-pack of pencils. For big mistakes, the 3-pack of pink erasers. And for necessity, the handheld sharpener. Excuse me for a minute while I take a break to use it.

If you're reading this, you didn't register the pause it took me to sharpen the pencil I'm using. The point is [sharply now], that the pause had an effect on me during composition. Which brings me back to the opening graf — pre-computer writers used a more purely mechanical process which I believe aided them in composition.

[Sharpening 5 pencils now so as not to delay this much longer.]

In writing by hand, especially with pencils, words have as much a tangible feel as they do a sound and appearance, the primary sensations for keyboarders. Let's not forget the difference in looking at a few scribbled pages, as opposed to scrolling a screen.

This is not to embrace the full-on Luddite wet dream of smashing technology, but to suggest alternative means of production to add depth to a skill that can become flat when you rely on a single method.

But [pencil change here] there is the simple joy of it — scratching away to the end of the line and forcing your mind to maintain the list of points you want to make for longer than you have to when typing. For those who spend hours in front of a screen, sitting at the dining room table and wending sentences across the page has none of the false urgency of the keyboard-driven lifestyle.

And the little tool kit — row of pencils, eraser, sharpener — has a bit more of a craftsman feel to it. As does using the sharpener to whittle the nib.

There is also the benefit of transcription as second draft. Everything comes out better with a second pass, and I'm sure part of this will be changed when I use 10 fingers instead of three. [Keyboard edit: It did.]

Besides the fun, the retro-ness and the change of pace, I'm enjoying writing with pencil because it's a different conduit for taking words out of my brain and bringing them into the light.