A pen, a typewriter, and the quality of my writing...

Years ago, or more properly, decades ago, I used to write all my fiction longhand. By pencil or pen. Then a very peculiar thing happened.

I discovered that I could write faster and more legibly if I used a typewriter.

First with a manual one, then with the keyboard on my computer (I think it was an Amstrad, if I remember rightly).

Longhand was too slow. I couldn’t keep up with my thoughts.

My keyboard had automatically found another gear that my pencils and pens didn’t have.

And they still don’t have.

This resulted in two things happening over time.

First, my longhand became an illegible scrawl…and second, my typing sped became a blur.

Pretty soon, the finger memory of my right hand started to forget how to form words and sentences. After that, the thoughts travelling from my brain to my fingers began to lose their way and spiders took over control of their movement.

I noticed that, ever so slowly, the quality of my writing deteriorated if I even looked at a pencil or pen…and increased if I even touched my keyboard.

Without any conscious effort on my part, the number of pens and pencils in my possession began to get less…and less…until one day I discovered that I had none at all. My only writing implement I had was the keyboard attached to my laptop. It was an Apple Mackintosh.

And then something strange began to happen.

Ever so slowly, bit by bit, key by key, the black lettering on my white keys began to disappear. Pretty soon, I began to forget where each key for each word was, and I noticed that the quality of my typewriting deteriorated if I even looked at my keyboard.

So I bought a pen. Not a great pen, but a good one. Good enough to chase my spiders away. Good enough to keep up with my thoughts. And a peculiar thing happened.

Ever so slowly, bit by bit, the black lettering on my keys began to return. And then something strange began to happen. I found that the speed of my longhand could keep pace with the speed of my typing. Pretty soon it didn't matter whether I scribbled or typed, my writing could easily keep up with my thinking. And that's when I decided to write my first two crime fiction novels.

The first one is called A Time for Dying and the sequel is called A House for Monsters. And they're both published by Northodox Press.

I wrote the first chapter of each with my pen.

I typed the rest...