When you first realized your passion for writing, were you using a computer or jotting down thoughts with a pencil? If you embraced writing as a child, it was likely the latter.

At that time, you might not have understood that the act of handwriting could enhance your brain's agility and creativity. All you knew was your love for words, both in reading and writing.

Perhaps you were that student who thrived on writing prompts in school, losing track of time while crafting pages filled with imaginative ideas. Once the timer rang, you had effortlessly penned several complete pages.

Or maybe, like me, you received a blank journal as a gift and began creating your own book. Amidst life's chaos, you recognized that articulating your personal experiences was a unique gift. You identified as a writer; indeed, you were a writer, with a book to validate that identity.

Maybe your third-grade teacher even allowed you to forgo English class for some quiet writing time in the hallway. You filled your pages with hand-drawn illustrations of pirates and candy, blending elements from Little House on the Prairie, a children's story belonging to your younger brother, and the game Candyland. This was long before fan fiction became popular.

Or you might have been one of the few who enjoyed diagramming sentences in fifth grade, equipped with a pouch of red and black pens, a ruler, and a dedicated notebook for this purpose.

How fortunate were those child-writers! Do today's children have the same opportunities? Do adults even notice? I reside in a Texas school district where sports take precedence over all else. It’s rare to see a photograph of a child engrossed in writing under the soft glow of a desk lamp in local news, but they exist. There are multiple forms of “Friday Night Lights,” after all.

Kids who write often do so in secrecy, filling notebooks in private. All it takes is a quiet space, a bit of time, and of course, pen and paper—no computers or digital devices needed. For those of us who grew up in the 70s and 80s, writing was the ideal pursuit for bookish kids.

Writing can also serve as a wonderful outlet for creativity in adults, provided they embrace the slow, sometimes meditative rhythm of handwriting.

An accomplished pianist I know pointed out that adults eager to learn the piano often want to skip straight to Moonlight Sonata rather than starting with Row, Row, Row Your Boat. The ability to slow down and practice is a valuable lesson learned early.

The art of writing, like all forms of creativity, requires dedication. Just as a young volleyball player practices drills and a basketball player shoots hoops at dawn, creatives must accept the slow and often tedious journey of honing their craft.

When you write with a pen on paper, you tap into a profound, ancient source of creativity.

Since I first grasped a pen, I have written nearly every day, using journals, blank books, and blogs—employing various writing instruments. I can vouch for the power of handwriting.

There’s something about putting pen to paper that solidifies thoughts far better than a glowing screen. I rarely wish to trade that experience for anything else. Writing by hand is a primal, creative act that yields significant rewards. Although I can type more quickly, I could never give up handwriting; it feels as though I would be relinquishing something deeper and more chaotic.

But isn’t it true that the best writers are proficient typists? You might be thinking that handwriting is slow and tedious. Your writing may be illegible once you're done, and your hand may cramp. When you produce something worthwhile, it often requires retyping on a computer anyway. I understand those frustrations.

I've come across numerous articles about successful authors who began their writing journeys as adults, mastering the art of writing quickly and efficiently. They effortlessly developed a voice that resonates with their online audience, writing in multiple languages and generating stories at an astonishing pace. Perhaps you, too, aspire to be that writer whose Medium earnings eclipse 98% of their peers. While I practice daily, I have yet to reach that level.

However, every writer possesses an inner voice that refuses to be silenced. I often hear my voice most clearly when I'm not typing but when I'm holding a pen. Certain brilliant literary gems only emerge when I write longhand.

Being a skilled learner doesn't necessarily mean being a prolific writer. A widely circulated study from 2014 revealed that students who took notes by hand retained complex concepts better than those who used laptops.

The study does not indicate which group earned higher grades, but it does show that handwritten notes lead to a deeper understanding. Students who typed their notes tended to merely repeat what the professor said, resulting in superficial processing. When it was time to reformulate their knowledge, they struggled.

Conversely, students who engaged with the material through handwriting learned more during the lesson, activating their brains in ways typists did not. This makes perfect sense.

The good and bad news is that handwriting students produce fewer words. They are also prone to become, well... creative. The slower pace of handwriting encourages students to contemplate what the instructor is saying, capturing their thoughts as they understand them. This often leads to beautifully complex expressions of ideas, though sometimes it results in confusion.

The research does not determine which students achieved better grades. Overthinkers can create a beautiful mess when processing ideas in their minds.

Beyond note-taking, the act of writing out your thoughts longhand enhances the creative process—often beyond what you expect.

Julia Cameron's Morning Pages practice, introduced in her 1992 book The Artist’s Way, has been embraced by artistic individuals seeking to boost their creativity. Nearly three decades later, it remains a bestseller in the popular psychology and creativity categories on Amazon.

Many writers intuitively recognize that writing by hand with a quality pen fosters creativity. What is happening in our brains that makes handwriting so crucial to this process? Is there definitive neuroscience research supporting the idea that handwriting boosts creativity?

Brain scans reveal that using your hand to write activates various areas of the brain. Think about it: your hand must glide over the paper while gripping the pen (motor skills), you recall letter formations (memory), and you fill pages with cursive lines (spatial reasoning). You construct sentences from your thoughts (imagination and creativity) and engage your senses through the smell of ink and the feel of paper (tactile experience). Your entire brain is in action.

Moreover, there's a connection between handwriting and mindfulness. Writing engages your brain similarly to meditation, a fantastic benefit for those aiming for productive mornings without wasting half the day. You can skip the meditation practice and simply write instead.

Certain gleaming literary treasures only reveal themselves when you compose longhand.

There is a childlike, exploratory quality to handwriting, particularly among those who write by hand.

By activating multiple brain regions, you provide your mind with a comprehensive workout. This is advantageous for actual children. Youngsters who learn to handwrite and use it regularly tend to produce “more words, faster, and express more ideas” than their keyboard-using counterparts.

I have often found that overthinking can lead to a beautiful chaos of ideas as they swirl in my mind.

Reflecting on my childhood writing experiences, I recognize certain benefits—some perhaps self-indulgent, but also practical skills like composing decent college essays, writing press releases for nonprofits, crafting professional emails, and securing writing jobs that pay better than minimum wage.

In my free time, I also write personal essays that serve as a form of therapy...

It can get chaotic, and I sometimes wonder if an overflow of creativity—can there be too much?—makes it harder to earn a living as a writer. Just a thought.

Is your creative edge worth it?

I recall visiting my brother in the workshop of the furniture maker who trained him. My brother is a master woodworker, the kind who carefully crafts curving staircases and dovetails drawer joints. He meticulously attends to woodworking details that few can appreciate.

While wandering the shop, I noticed a cardboard box from Ikea with a cheap shelving system name—Kallax or Billy. Its presence amid the sawdust seemed to mock the shop's craftsmanship. “Are you doing some resale?” I joked.

Why work so hard when others seem to do it effortlessly? Recently, a Medium writer I follow—someone well-acquainted with the connection between handwriting and creativity—posted about an infuriatingly simplistic story that dominated everyone's Medium home screens for days.

I see you, Alison Acheson. So much for the advice on crafting compelling headlines.

Creative writing is challenging, but would you truly want it any other way?

What transformations occurred in our developing brains as we handwrote stories, poems, songs, experiences, and secrets? Did these experiences set us apart from peers who had little interest in writing?

Absolutely, they did. Neuroscientist William Klemm explains:

> There is a whole field of research known as “haptics,” which includes the interactions of touch, hand movements, and brain function. Cursive writing helps train the brain to integrate visual and tactile information alongside fine motor skills. School systems, driven by misinformed ideologies and federal mandates, are increasingly obsessed with testing knowledge at the expense of teaching kids how to develop a better capacity for acquiring knowledge.

While many associate haptics with technology, it's an attempt to compensate for the natural and effective ways our species has learned over millennia. Humans learn through doing, which involves using our hands for touch, movement, and proprioception—understanding our bodies in space. When you write with a pen on paper, you access a profound, ancient creative source.

Yes, typing on a keyboard is quicker. Indeed, I draft most of my stories (some originating in a journal) using my computer. However, if you wish to break through the barriers of creativity that hinder you from producing exceptional work, consider picking up a 99-cent notebook and a simple gel pen. This choice could be pivotal in transforming average creativity into something extraordinary.

Paper and pens are essential tools for any writer. By honoring the craft of writing, you may uncover insights that remain inaccessible without the tactile experience of gripping a pen.