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Yes. Every single word. I cannot type, and I do not propose to learn.
Lined A4 pads. Black ink, always. A new pad for each book, started on day one, accumulating on the desk through the months of writing. By the time a novel is finished I have ten or twelve pads filled with handwriting, every page covered, margins included.
There are practical reasons. My handwriting is faster than most people imagine, because I have been doing it every day of my adult life. It is roughly as fast as a competent typist. I can write a thousand words in an hour without straining.
But the deeper reason is that handwriting is, for me, a different kind of thinking. When I push a pen across paper, the words appear at a measured pace. That pace forces me to know what the next sentence is before I write it. There is no scrolling back to fix a paragraph. There is no autocomplete suggesting the next word. There is no spellcheck red-underlining a name and trying to “correct” it. There is only the page, the pen, and the choice I have to make about what to write next. That choice is the work. The pen makes me responsible for the choice in a way the keyboard does not.
A typed first draft, I think, would tempt me to ramble — to put more on the page than the book needs, knowing I can cut it later. With the pen, every sentence costs me a minute of writing. So I think before I write.
I do not believe a great novel has ever been thumb-typed onto a phone. I suspect a great novel has been written on a typewriter, and on a laptop, by many writers. The instrument is not the point. The point is the relationship between the writer and the words. For me, that relationship requires ink on paper.
The manuscript goes to my agent in handwriting. Someone — my office, my agent’s office, my publisher’s office, depending on the year — types it up. I have a system that has worked for fifty years and I do not propose to change it now.
If you are a young writer trying to decide whether to write by hand or to type: write whichever way makes you choose your next sentence deliberately. That is what writing is. The tool matters less than the discipline.