Technology is commonly met with angst and skepticism, and perhaps for good reason. Plato was extremely wary of the technology of the written word, claiming it would be the kiss of death for the human memory. Martin Heidegger believed that technology limits our worldview to only what the earth can be used for to benefit ourselves. Now, many doubt the viability of computers as tools for writing and the creative process. While the argument of whether or not technology is ultimately beneficial will rage forever, it cannot be debated that it will keep moving forward at a rapid pace.
Personally, I prefer something like note taking to be done by hand. Studies have shown that handwriting notes aids in retention of the material down the road. Our brains are wired to know the motions required to write the letter “C,” for example, and the very motion signals our brains to comprehend all that the letter “C” represents. Hitting the key on a keyboard between “X” and “V” doesn’t seem to have the same mental impact as handwriting, but perhaps this is a generational issue. My peers and I were raised in a transition period; born alongside the digital revolution. We were raised leaning both old world writing techniques as well as their digital counterparts simultaneously. Perhaps my brain comprehends the handwritten letter “C” better than a keystroke because that is what I was taught from the beginning. Drawing a specifically shaped semi-circle on a page seems natural and it ignites an idea in my brain, however minute. But maybe someday people will be raised only on keyboards and then the act of moving one’s index finger to the bottom row of a keyboard and striking “C” will ignite the same idea in their brains as mine when I write the same letter by hand. In other words, typing could someday phase out handwriting and become the dominant vehicle by which we express our thoughts.
Then there’s the issue of where we write. Would Walden be what it is if it were written in a coffee shop on an iPad? Probably not and there, case in point, is why location matters. Imagine Thoreau sitting on a Herman Miller office chair with his Starbucks latté typing away on a MacBook in a florescent-lit library. I hardly think that ideas would be flowing out of his mind. While libraries may be conducive to scholarly work, they are hardly appropriate for many other forms of writing. The simple issue is that we feel a different sense of identity depending on where we are physically.
Finally, sensory deprivation tanks. Here, comedian Joe Rogan discusses his experiences in a tank that deprives you of every sense.
You become gone, you disappear.
My point here is that when we are devoid of our senses, we “disappear.” This proves the point that what we see, hear and feel greatly influences how we think. While this is clearly obvious, it stresses the fact that our environment greatly changes our thought process and therefore will alter our ability to write in a certain way. Just as the white female would feel out of place at a rowdy bowling alley, a writer can feel equally alienated should he not be in an appropriate setting.
Writing is a gentle process and one that is not resilient to our outside world. What we write with and where we are writing have the massive potential to change the words we write.
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