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I want to get to a point where I no longer use the #bypen tag on posts. It's historically been the exception rather than the rule that things have been written by hand but that is something I plan to remedy. I suppose I've already started.

Making a big deal about something only serves to set it apart when I instead want it to become more the norm. Ultimately, it shouldn't make a difference how something is written, just that it is.

At the beginning of November Derek Sivers wrote a post titled "Writing daily, but posting when ready" after an experiment posting to his blog every day for a month. His conclusion was that his writing was worse, not better as he was forcing a conclusion just to get something published.

I've mentioned how I no longer feel the need to post every day and now feel the separation of writing by hand from the act of publishing will give me more space; space to think, to feel, to explore.

When everything is created digitally the urge to hit publish is compelling; it's already there typed out so why not. The added friction of transcribing between states introduces a necessary delay that allows for reflection.

I plan to write daily but post when ready. Writing daily may not always happen but it is something I want to happen. I have a tendency to write in full posts, start at the beginning and go through until it's finished as though I am getting ready to post. I don't make notes I make posts and that's limiting.

Writing doesn't mean completing.

I don't jot down thoughts or ideas, observances or aides memoire. I don't doodle or draw or be creative in any other way. Switching to pen and paper may be a mindset change but it is one that I need to be more comfortable with, more expansive.

If I have any creative wish for 2020 then that's it.

Writing by hand necessarily introduces an additional editing and review phase that wasn't there before.

When typing posts from scratch I would really only be performing a final check for grammar and errors whereas transcribing from paper to screen forces me to re-read and re-evaluate what I have written.

Occasionally, I'll redo entire sections as I look upon things with fresh eyes, there being a delay between the initial writing and transcription. However, there usually aren't too many changes but I do find myself catching a few things that I might otherwise let slip.

#bypen

Over the years I have both called myself a writer and chastised myself over the very same description. Imposter syndrome has been in full effect.

But, what is a writer? Is it purely semantic? It doesn't help that there are various definitions.

Perhaps the most common definition is "a person who writes books or articles to be published" or variations on that theme. It implies that a writer is a professional, synonymous with an author.

And that's largely why imposter syndrome kicks in.

There are other definitions, however, including the following:

• a person who writes or is able to write, and
• a person who commits his or her thoughts, ideas, etc. to writing.

The first is the obvious derivation from the verb but the second is more meaningful. Indeed, the entry for "writer" on Wikipedia begins:

"A writer is a person who uses written words in various styles and techniques to communicate ideas"

These last two descriptions sound much more like a blogger, or even someone writing in a journal regardless of whether it will be read by others. In fact, blogger and diarist are both listed as types of writer in the Wikipedia entry.

Yet, armed with this knowledge, and that I am now literally writing more rather than typing, I still feel like a fraud and that the label should not apply.

#bypen

Last night I read BSAG's post "Listening for the return of spring" in which she outlines an almost irrational fear of never hearing birdsong again:

"...part of my difficulty in expressing how I felt was that I was deeply embarrassed about admitting to these fears. It seemed to me a ridiculously archaic, pre-scientific folk belief, like believing that the sun will not rise tomorrow."

She then reiterates her love for birdsong and how it, in particular, grants "precious contact with nature in urban areas".

There is indeed something magical about birdsong, almost mystical. It has the ability to transport you away from your current environment, get you out of your head.

I always recall a school trip when I was around 12 years old, not long after my parents had split up, and I was incredibly nervous about being away from home overnight. We stayed in a youth hostel (I think it was four to a room in bunk beds) and to say I didn't sleep well would be an understatement. I lay in the darkness awaiting the new day that would ultimately see me return home but, as dawn approached, the birds began their morning song and I can remember being transfixed by its beauty forgetting my worries. How so many different creatures could blend so perfectly into a single chorus despite all doing their own thing; it was like an avian jazz session where each would take a solo, playing their variant on a theme but still an element of a whole that was so much more than the sum of its parts.

A colleague being off sick today meant an earlier than usual start, leaving the house before 5am to catch a different train to my normal commute. Even at this time, hours before dawn, I was serenaded by the sounds of scattered birdsong. I listen out for robins in particular as there is something so emotive about their call, especially at this time of year, something so grounding. They are also among the first birds to start the dawn chorus.

I'm usually aware of the birdsong as I walk to the train station each morning but, no doubt, often take it for granted. Reading the post last night reminded me to appreciate its delights even on a dark, drizzly morning that couldn't have felt any further from being Christmas Eve.

It made me wonder what if there were no more birds, how silent would it be? How empty? But then I also considered how, at certain hours, it should be silent but that light pollution caused by our ever expanding urban sprawl has left our towns and cities in a persistent nighttime twilight confusing, or even destroying, the circadian rhythms of man and beast alike.

What strikes me now about that school trip so many years ago is the contrast. Yes, the dawn chorus was truly a beauty to witness but it was made more so by the silence that preceded it, a silence so rare some thirty something years later. A silence that is good for the soul.

#bypen

Now one rather annoying thing about scholars is that they are always using Big Words that some of us can't understand... ...and one sometimes gets the impression that those intimidating words are there to keep us from understanding.

In this section from "The Tao of Pooh" (which I finally bought after years of dithering) the author's emphasis is on the word "keep" but I feel it could be equally applied to the following "us".

The point, of course, is for the scholar to appear superior, to blind us with science.

I have no pretence of being superior to anyone which is why I don't use long words for the sake of it. It infuriates me when I have to look up every other word in something I'm reading because the author wishes to be seen as clever.

What's the famous quote? "If you can't explain it simply enough..."

#bypen