There is a moment in my personal life timeline when I chose to print in longhand rather than write in cursive. I have input into my synaptic way-back machine my request for the day when that happened. I can see the Nixie lights blinking, so eventually a glowing image of the day when I began longhand printing will appear, and I shall be able to describe it here. But not yet.
I know it was a very long time ago, and probably has something to do with my two early passions for professions. I wanted to be an electrical engineer, and I wanted to be an architect. Both of those professions need the practitioner to be able to write clearly, and I remember one of the live-in students at Taliesin West telling me that I must “have a good hand” if I wanted to intern there, which I did want to do.
Although I did not have the financial power to intern at Taliesin West, I was employed many times as a draftsman, and often got compliments on “my hand”. I believe that boosted my self-esteem quite a bit, and I am grateful that I have continued to practice what, for me, has become an art form. My children tell me that they love looking at things I have longhand printed, and they always know when a written item has been done by me because of my distinctive style.
I bring this up today because I am experiencing a strong push to get a memoir (the memoir is the genre of writing that I have chosen to pursue) written and published. I want to make my writing as powerful as possible, and so I shall write all my drafts using longhand printing to get my self on paper.
Pripensi 