The first time I ever wrote something creative I was in kindergarden. It was a poem called "All About Spring". It was written on that world famous kindergarden paper. You know the paper: sort of tan-ish with two anchoring blue horizontal lines separated by a busy dotted line right down the middle? Yeah, that paper.
I don't remember much about the poem except that my teacher, Mrs. Stroup, liked it so much that she allowed me and a few other students to create a binder for our books and cover them with fancy wallpaper. My binder was made of that fuzzy gold velvet filigree on top of metallic gold wallpaper. If you're old enough, you'll remember that stuff. It came in a variety for era-favored colors and could also be seen frequently in red at the Chinese restaurant.
Thank god my parents saved the book. It's in the attic of my childhood home in a box somewhere where, I'm sure, one day, I'll be equally fascinated and horrified to find it.
Nevertheless, Mrs. Stroup took our books to the school library where the librarian put one of those library check-out-card-pockets on the inside back cover! WOW! Then she brought all the books back into the classroom and placed them on her desk where other students could check out our books.
Side note: This all took place in 1972 in a newly integrated kindergarden classroom. My best friend, Karen, was white girl with orange hair (as I used to call it). She illustrated my book since I felt she was the best "drawerer" ever.
Fast forward to today, only 35 years later. I've written so many types of things in my life, throughout my entire life, I've literally lost track. I've written for business, for newspaper, for advertising, and for film and television. And although I don't consider myself a writer in the true sense of the word, the hardest thing for me has been to let go of The Paper.
I still get deep satisfaction from the messiness of ink on paper; from the arrows and brackets that attempt to move a sentence from where it came out of my mind originally to where that same mind, on second or third thought, thinks it should be instead. I admit that I love having to hold a thought until my fingers can catch up and going back to transpose it after a time and seeing the raw energy on the page.
It's why I have notebooks all over my house.
It's why my work often goes: Write, type, print, write-edit, type-edit, print.
It's why I can leave my computer in the next room when I go to sleep, as long as I have a pen and a notebook beside my bed.
I think I'll always love The Paper.