Writ

My daughter is a leftie

My best friend, the godmother of all my children, is a great writer (Yes you, my dear C and you expected this *wink* and I will refer to you in the third person). She loved writing for the school paper when we were in high school and today she's a contributing author on this online magazine aimed at disseminating high-quality and high-impact articles.  Based on our recent interactions, she thought that it would be a good idea if I started writing about things/causes I'm passionate about and so after a couple of exchanges I finally spoke with her editor-in-chief on the phone this morning.  It's a no-pressure pro-bono gig much like this ongoing anonymous catharsis on blogspot. Kind of like writing press releases on broad sheets.

On the topic of writing, I had a casual chat with a mentor about fountain pens and calligraphy--I'm glad that there are still people who enjoy writing by hand. I consider it a rarity nowadays. My father writes in nice block letters using his usual Pilot VTech pen, while my mother's cursive was impeccable even with her preference for ordinary pens. My husband, when we were teenagers, wrote to me weekly--he began writing a week's worth of notes during his free time in class which he put in an envelope and gave to me on Sundays. I followed suit and we agreed to leave our envelopes on a designated spot. I'm sure you're nodding right now, Mr. Husband. Papemelroti should thank us for investing on their stationery.

We should rekindle our interest in handwritten material. It's not just about the art, the pen, even what is written--it is the time spent writing and the amount of thought that is put into it. It is not excessive, in my humble opinion...it is being in the present.