This is an exercise in spontaneity (although I must admit that most of the blog posts that I write have a healthy dose of that within them), so we'll just have to see what falls out of my head and onto the page.
It's very rare for me to sit down at a blank screen (particularly with regard to writing books) with a well-formed idea of what I'm about to commit to print. This is often the result of a well-developed case of absent-mindedness, from which I suffer. The main writing-related symptom of this is a sense of excitement as I approach the office, plonk my backside down on the chair - and as soon as I do so, something distracts me. Almost in the same instant, a feeling of panic will overwhelm me as I hunt in vain around the vast, empty stretches of space which form my mind in the forlorn hope of recapturing an idea.
Today however, I plonked myself down ('plonked' almost implies a small, light body landing with a pleasing squeak or 'plop' noise, doesn't it - trust me, this is very misleading...) before the screen with no real idea of what I was going to write about. When I did arrive huffing and puffing at the desk, a germ of an idea did raise its head over the parapet and into the fog of uncertainty.
I type with two digits - perhaps three or four if I get my thumbs involved from time to time - although since I have reduced sensation in my right thumb, this can be something of a surprising journey to embark upon (usually I restrict it to the space bar). Using just my two middle fingers (yes, the rude ones) I have managed to attain a speed of up to sixty words per minute, although the resulting corrections do tend to bring my average down somewhat. Like - I suspect - a great many other writers, my speed increases when I get into the flow of something, although even then frequently I will begin a sentence without knowing how it is going to end. When in full flow, however, the fingers verily fly across the keyboard in a genuine blur (imagine two fingers doing the work of ten - and yes, I'm counting my thumbs as fingers - get over it) in much the same way that time flies around the clock face.
The results may be very pleasing, they may be rather disappointing, or they may - and this is the most common result - require a multitude of spelling and other typographical corrections.
If, for example, I complete a paragraph without making any subsequient corrections, the result turns out something like this. Knowing my luck (I'm not looking up at the3 screen until I finish this paragraph), this will turn out toto be the most error-free passage that I've ever written. While not always sure if I've made many mistakes, there's usually my subconscious lutrking in the background, snuiggering at the inaccuracy of my typing 'skills' - which, although it's annoying, comes in rather handy. I'm pretty sure that there's a few howlers in here, wwhich hopefully illustrates my point. The writing isn't just writing - it's at least correcting too.
Ah yes, a fine example - I'm sure you'll agree - of the damage that big sausage fingers (even if only two of them) can wreak upon an otherwise harmless few sentences. I tend to hit two keys together quite frequently; 'p' and 'o' are the two favourites, closely followed by 'a' and the CAPS LOCK. I'd happily live without the caps, lock key, if truth be told - all on its own, that little bugger probably adds a goodly amount of time to any work that I do here.
What this all means, therefore, is that the stuff that you torture yourself with by reading here has been almost entirely produced by two of my fingers (OK, yes, and a thumb) - and my two rudest fingers at that. Isn't technology wonderful?