Pen to Paper

I'm a writer.  I savor the feeling of a pen clutched in my hand, the nib scratching on paper, the feel of the pen in my fingers, imparting my words onto the paper.  I love pens...the ink dribbling out onto the paper, putting the words that are tumbling out of my thoughts onto something permanent.  You can't erase ink. Its forever.

I love paper.  The feel of it, the smell of it (much better in a book with ink on it).  I love the stark nakedness of a pure white sheet of paper in front of me...the promise it holds that I can fill it with whatever I choose.  The possibilities of what I could put on that paper abound!

I have been forced to type, forced to jump onto the computer-run society train.  It is much faster to type something, hit a button and send it quicker than lightening to the recipient.  BUT - the prose loses some of its character, some of what makes it yours in the typing.  I am doing the sendee a huge favor though, as I have such atrocious handwriting, they might not be able to read it is as well if I did hand write it.  I feel like my thoughts are coming so fast I cannot write them all out as fast as I can think them...and I find I can also type faster than I can write.

I still have a love of the written word...the ink on the page...the words wet with authenticity.  My curl of the c, my crossing of the t....it makes me feel good.

I also love books.  Books have been my greatest pleasure for as long as I can recall.  I can learn, escape, laugh, and cry in a book.  A good book makes me happy, a GREAT book can catapult me into a state of pure ecstasy, lost a million miles away, living with the characters, loving them, hating them with an authenticity that makes me want to know more.  When I am forced to turn that last page, put that book down and my journey has ended with that author, I am often a bit sad...and looking for a sequel!

In my hardest times, every one of them, I can remember escaping with a book.  When life gets too hard to bear, to tough to think about one more minute...I can open a book and let my thoughts journey to a place where I don't have to think about myself, don't have to worry about my loved ones, or focus on the here and now.  I can get lost somewhere else and I can get a break for a bit.  This has saved my sanity more times than I can even count.  A brief respite, a break to let my heart rest before it bursts open with the pain or ache. 

I love the physical feel of a book.  I want that book in my hands...the feel of the cover, the pages.  I want to put my nose in the pages and smell that inky smell.  The best ones are the old books with the really old musty papery inky smell...love that!!  I want to turn each page, I want to savor the words as my eyes rove the pages, drinking in the wonderful story that I have become entrenched in.  Nothing can replace that physicality of a book in my hands.  I will never bow to the ever popular Nook, or Kindle.  Whatever the newest craze of electronic book may be.  I can't see myself holding yet another electronic device and reading from yet another screen and scrolling through the pages.  I dearly love libraries and I pray they will remain for a long time to come.  Books are more than just words - books are pages bonded together, ink applied to the page, magic coming alive through the beauty of words....such a joy!!!!

Someday I will have my own book.  The cover will read "By Kathryn Ann Klatt Riehle....." and it will have all of MY words in it....my thoughts, my ideas.  I hope others can derive some escape through my words someday...and I can give back some of that joy....