Composing by Hand: A Way for L2 Writers to ‘Grasp’ Language
“Intelligent people recognize early in life that not everyone thinks the way they do.” — Ron Baxendale, Sr.
As a graduate student in the University of Colorado at Denver’s Teaching of Writing program, I often find myself discussing the composing process and how it differs for every writer. And when I inevitably get around to explaining my process — which includes planning and composing my initial drafts by hand with pencil on paper — I’m usually met with the response, “Really? That’s weird” or “Hum, that’s strange.” This is then followed by the assumption that I must not type well or that I’m technologically inept, when neither could be further from the truth. [1]
This attitude never fails to surprise me, because it flies in the face of both my father’s advice (above) and the basic tenets we future writing instructors are continually exploring in our coursework: kindness, encouragement, understanding, open-mindedness, tolerance, and diversity. The fact is that not all writers plan, compose, and revise in the same way. And to infer that one way is better than another — that writing initial drafts by hand rather than on a computer keyboard is somehow wrong — can have dire consequences if delivered to a beginning, struggling, or insecure writer at a time when he or she is especially impressionable. What if I had been told that I should write on a computer? What if I was made to feel that I had to do this or was wrong to do that? It could have easily stunted my development as a writer, or pushed me away from writing all together. And I’m talking about writing in English, my native language! What, then, are we doing to L2 writers of English when we send out these same messages? I fear that without realizing it, our narrow attitudes and petty comments could be causing more problems for L2 writers than we are solving.
I bring all this up because I’m troubled by the constant push to get L2 writers into computer classrooms — as if we’ve finally discovered the secret to shortcutting the process of learning how to write in a second language. While I am in no way discounting the tremendous benefits the computer and word processor have brought to the discipline and profession of writing, I believe there are several major advantages to composing by hand for L2 and L1 writers alike:
First, writing by hand slows the writer and the writing process, making room for the phenomenon of discovery. In A Rhetoric for Writing Teachers, Erika Lindemann agrees with other teachers and researchers who note that “many experienced writers prefer to write drafts in the longhand, instead of at the typewriter [or computer keyboard]. Writing by hand . . . slows down the process constructively, permitting half-formed ideas to develop and unexpected ideas to surface” (26). Writer Paul Theroux also recognized the value of writing at a slower pace: “It’s fatal to get ahead of yourself,” he once said. “Typing, you can take a wrong turning” (qtd. in Emig 112). Writing by hand and giving the subconscious an opportunity to play a role in the writing process can help L2 and L1 writers learn about language in much the same way that it helps them create language.
Second, the physical act of writing — pushing a pencil or pen across paper — is a part of the process for many writers. Seeing my words in my handwriting is like having an intimate conversation with myself, which allows me to think more clearly and capture my thoughts more readily. Writing drafts by hand also relaxes me, and I can easily write for extended periods of time without feeling fatigued. (Not surprisingly, this is in direct opposition to Ferris and Hedgcock’s unsupported assertions that writing on a keyboard is faster, easier, less exhausting, and loads of fun for all students [345, 347, 360].) The reality is that many writers plan and compose on paper; there’s nothing unusual, weird, or strange about it. But when we tell an L2 writer who’s always drafted by hand in his L1 that he now has to compose in his second language on a keyboard, we run the risk of erecting obstacles that confuse and frustrate and make the task of learning a second language even more difficult. Composition teachers must understand this and encourage every L2 and L1 writer to compose in his or her own way, not someone else’s.
And third, the physical act of writing actually puts us to work, making us feel as though we’re crafting an “artifact . . . carving or sculpting our statements, as in wood or stone” (Emig 112). I’ve always felt that while we can see, speak, and hear language, writing by hand is the only way we can touch and feel it, shape and mold it. Writing by hand immerses us in language, which allows us to explore, experiment, get ourselves dirty, and make a mess of things in order to learn the intimacies of language. I came to love and truly understand Spanish by writing it by hand, by getting a feel for its individual parts in order to eventually put them to work as a functioning whole. This same opportunity should be afforded L2 writers of English. But when we appropriate their unique, inner-personal script and give them the impersonal fonts of the computer in return, we deprive them of an invaluable learning tool (which doesn’t cost anyone a dime).
It’s imperative that today’s writing teachers be nudged away from the “trap of technology,” the seductive notion that the computer can make students want to write, teach them how to write, and make them better writers. The word processor is the writer’s dream — just ask anyone who, not that long ago, was using carbon paper to make copies or calculating the space needed for a footnote at the bottom of a term paper — but neither it nor the computer can “teach novice writers how to think, plan, or revise [or] transform inexperienced writers into proficient writers” (Ferris and Hedgcock 345). While there are teachers and students alike who naively see the computer as a “sort of surrogate brain, one that’s able to miraculously tackle all the intellectual tasks that once required our knowledge, insight, reason, experience, and imagination,” there are others who see the computer as an indispensable tool that allows them to do more with their writing now than they did in the past (Baxendale).
No two writers plan, prewrite, and compose in the same way; and we must encourage writing teachers to shake off the intoxicating effects of their love affair with technology and soberly acknowledge this simple truth. If an L2 or L1 writer prefers to plan and compose by hand before sitting down at the computer, let’s allow him or her to do just that. And if a student writing on a computer is struggling, let’s suggest that he or she try composing his or her initial drafts by hand — without petty comments that hint at disapproval. After all, look at how long it’s taken us to recognize that placing undue emphasis on grammar, error correction, and letter grades doesn’t always produce students who write well. Do we really want to take another wrong turn, this time in a different direction?
[1] After I’ve written my initial draft by hand, I’m always anxious to type it into Word; in print, my writing reads differently, and I am then able to raise it to a higher level with continued revision.
Works Cited
Baxendale II, Ron. “The Subtle Influence of Cyber Worship.” Denver Post.com. 4 May 2008. 4 Mar. 2009 <http://www.denverpost.com/opinion/ci_9134909#comments>.
Emig, Janet. “Hand, Eye, Brain: Some ‘Basics’ in the Writing Process.” The Web of Meaning: Essays on Writing, Teaching, Learning, and Thinking. New Jersey: Boynton/Cook Publishers, 1983.
Ferris, Dana R., and John S. Hedgcock. Teaching ESL Composition: Purpose, Process, and Practice. New Jersey: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 2005.
Lindemann, Erika. A Rhetoric for Writing Teachers. New York: Oxford University Press, 1987.
