As a freshman in high school typing class (I think they call it keyboarding now), I sat next to a sophomore name Diana. Diana had perfect Dorothy Hamill hair, a petite frame and a perky smile. And she was a first chair flutist. Diana was everything I was not — except when it came to typing. Ah, in typing, we were equals.
During daily timed typing exercises, we battled it out. She typed 65 words per minute (wpm); I typed 70. I typed 68 wpm; she typed 72 wpm. Our typewriter duels were famous. At least in my mind. The fact is I don’t think she even noticed the chubby freshman with glasses and braces sitting next to her.
But somehow this imaginary competition spurred me onto greatness. I excelled at typing, er, keyboarding. Still do, in fact.
I suppose I have Diana to thank, at least in part, for my keyboarding speed; however I suspect that the real reason I type so fast is that the keyboard is a tool for me. It’s a conduit for moving thoughts from my head to the page.
When I write, I essentially carry on a conversation in my mind that manifests itself not from my voice but through my fingertips. What comes out are stories, ideas and natural dialogue. I don’t stop and try to choose the absolutely best, most perfect word before it comes out onto the page. We certainly don’t do that when we’re talking now, do we?
Of course, I may go back and change a word (or 20!) during the editing process, swapping out words that I find more pleasing or more descriptive than my original choice, or I may remove redundant words and phrases and shuffle some paragraphs around. The point is that sometimes we try too hard to “write” as opposed to “have a conversation.”
So the next time you’re composing a memo to the boss, writing a proposal for a client or creating copy that will be read by your customers, just sit down at the keyboard (or typewriter, if you dare) and say what you want to say simply, plainly and conversationally. Then you can go back to the copy and edit and reorganize as necessary.
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