Your Monday mote

"Darling Sue"

Dawn French writes her books by hand.

I was in the bathroom, cleaning my teeth, when the comedian-turned-actress-turned-author-still-also-a-comedian was asked about her methodology, on the Radio 2 breakfast show.

Presenter Gary Davies (aka “Oooh, Gary Davies”), was surprised to hear that she didn’t use a computer.

“There’s one in our house. I know there’s one somewhere,” she replied, laughing.

“I don’t know why that’s so surprising. In the history of time, more books have been written by hand, quill or chisel, or whatever else you want to say - not nowadays - but I’m still very old fashioned.

“Listen, I’m that age where nobody taught me how to use a computer and I sort of skipped it. I’ve got a tablet and I’ve got a phone, I know how to do a few things but writing is writing.

“Writing is a page of beautiful of paper, lined paper, with a pencil that you can smell the lead, you got a rubber on top, that’s what writing is.

“It looks like my book when it’s in my writing, and I love that.”

“Who types it up for you?”, asked Oooh Gary Davies, as I absent-mindedly slapped moisturiser on my face, locked in and focussed on her answer.

“Darling Sue. Bless her. She’s typed up every book. She’s been with me for 35 years.”

Now fully moisturised, this gave me pause.

Sue’s a keeper that’s for sure and while I love the poetry of a handwritten manuscript, I can’t imagine writing an entire manuscript, or screenplay, by hand.

To be fair, Dawn French is a good decade older than me. I learned how to touch-type between the ages of 16 and 18, at sixth form college. Before that, all school work was done using pen and paper.

By the time I joined the local paper, they were still using manual typewriters. Less than a year later, the typewriters had gone and everything was computerised.

The other big difference between Dawn and I (coughs in ‘not comedy genius’), is that Dawn is a legend and icon, and therefore, can afford a Sue. I cannot but also, I don’t think that once I’m in full flow, my hand could keep up with my brain. Only a keyboard will do. Fly, fingertips, fly!

Along with the touch-typing, I also learned shorthand - Pitman New Era - after which my hand-writing really began to disintegrate into a sad, hieroglyphic mish-mash of scrawl and symbols.

Cut to lockdown, and I decided to do something about my cryptic scribbles. As I child, I was taught beautiful cursive but by 2020, I could barely sign my name on a piece of paper without my hand cramping.

"Handwriting is drawing, and our hands are the artist's tools." - Vincent van Gogh

Digging out my precious collection of fountain pens and ink pots, I started to write down what was being said on television or the radio, almost daily, and from there, slid into the habit of writing more by hand as a matter of course.

It’s gently satisfying watching the ink slick along the page. I carry a fountain pen at all times and it absolutely connects me to my work (there’s a whole psychology around this very thing). I use it to fill in my physical diary, write shopping lists and record snippets and ideas.

But a whole book or screenplay? Nah.

Today, I mostly tend to dictate ideas and dialogue into my phone and type it up later. Or I skip the dictation and just type like the clappers.

Dawn French has her pencils and her beloved Darling Sue. I have an Otter app, a questionable collection of notebooks and ink-stained fingers that can still hammer a keyboard like I’m up against a deadline.

Different tools. Same compulsion.

After their little exchange about writing, Oooh Gary Davies played Shakira’s Hips Don’t Lie.

And clearly, neither do nibs.

Arf.

*drops mic*

Anyway, it’s Bank Holiday Monday and I’ve written enough. It’s unseasonably hot and my brain is now around 78% sunscreen and 22% iced coffee.

By the time you read this, I’ll be lounging in the garden and wondering where Sue is, because, frankly, I could do with more ice.

Lisa