A master does not blame the tool. Whenever tools are mentioned, whether musical instruments or farm implements, this sentence pops out as if by reflex. It is often used to mean that if one has skill, the tool does not matter. But what such examples actually show is not that one should accept any bad tool. They are closer to, “You can do that even with this kind of tool?” It is not that tools do not matter. It is that human ability can sometimes exceed the limits of the tool.
Most of those attempts also remain in the realm of technique. Even with an unusual instrument, what matters to a performer is not simply whether it can produce sound, but how much more practice is needed to make emotion seep into the performance as it would on the instrument they normally use. If the instrument is not normal, it may be playable, but more practice will certainly be necessary. That is, if the purpose is not to show a curious feat, but to let people hear music.
The same applies to tools used for writing. When I have a thought and feel that I must write it down, any tool can record it. I leave such a “memo” and later refer to it when doing real “writing.” But the idea that one should be able to write well with any tool is hard for me to understand. I find it easier to sympathize with someone who writes only with a pencil out of habit, or uses only a fountain pen. I am the same. It has been about four years since I began using a computer, and now writing long pieces in a notebook with a fountain pen does not last. At first I thought I could not write on a computer, but that was not true. I can write on a phone too. It is not that I cannot write; it is that I cannot write for long. And when I cannot write for long, it is because the thought gets blocked.
I sometimes write on my phone. Writing long is not important in itself, but since I judge something important by whether I can keep writing at length, I cannot help looking at length. The point is the flow of thought. Writing in the stream of consciousness can produce interesting writing, but only if I truly follow the actual stream. If that stream breaks, or if I lose it because my typing or handwriting is too slow, the writing is abruptly cut off. If I can force a conclusion there, that is fortunate, but if the story had still been moving, the piece becomes unreadable. It remains only as a note, not a finished work. That is why I no longer use a notebook as a writing tool except for memos. It is too slow to catch up with thought. When I write with a keyboard, I have to be careful not to type too quickly.
When a tool changes, there are many things to consider, from the speed of writing to the flow of thought. So saying that someone should write well immediately no matter what tool they are given is too harsh. Writing done because one likes it should not become work. That is why, if I find a tool I like, I try to keep using it whenever possible. I want to minimize the extra attention needed for things like adjusting the speed of writing.
When I write on my phone, I use the same app I use on the e-reader. The phone responds much faster, but since the interface is the same, I can match the speed I use on the e-reader. Even when using a QWERTY keyboard, writing at that speed prevents many typos.
Outside, on the subway, I have no choice but to use my phone, but as much as possible I use it only for notes. In cafes and other places where I can use a desk or table, I use the e-reader and a portable keyboard. At home I used to use a laptop with a mechanical keyboard, but recently I brought in a device called Freewrite. Since the whole body is aluminum, I could understand why some people say they write better on a typewriter. Its weight definitely feels different from writing on a laptop. Because of that, I seem to use the laptop more and more only for editing.
There are kinds of writing that must be written only on a phone. Writing done while riding the subway is like that. This is especially true when, as in this piece, it is a list of information with little sentiment. It is writing that records facts rather than something that needs to look into itself, writing that feels like very thin sheet metal. The more feeling enters, the more the writing becomes like a snowy road where the feet sink deep, and for that I use a heavier machine. The feel of a machine or keyboard inevitably affects the feel of the writing. So I choose tools according to the kind of writing I want. The problem is piling up tools by type; choosing among them is not a problem. In other words, even if I use various tools like this, as long as I do not stop writing, I think there is no real problem.
Original Korean article: 도구탓 도구 골라쓰기!