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</o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]--></head><body lang=EN-US link="#0563C1" vlink="#954F72"><div class=WordSection1><p class=MsoNormal>Measuring Words<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Marcia J. Wick, The Write Sisters<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>September 2018<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Word Count: 295<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>As a school girl, I mastered the art of cursive writing, spinning words like silk thread across the blank page. The empty lines on the looseleaf paper beckoned like a road map. My pencil pressed looping letters onto the pliable surface; tilted words advanced left to right, curling and crashing like ocean waves onto the shoreline. I rested my pencil and turned to the typewriter in college. It was like changing the channel from classic rock to heavy rap. Aaa…bbb…ccc… The alphabet was scattered willy nilly like tiddly winks on the first keyboard I fingered. Punching buttons, I struggled to string the erratic letters, like popping corn, into a recognizable pattern…bat…cat…bad. Metal hammers striking a ribbon of indelible ink pressed sharp-edged shapes onto the page, marching in line like stilted soldiers to an uncertain future. <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Over time, my brain connected the random dots and the cadence of keystrokes smoothed. The typewritten words appeared more credible than handwritten notes; the serif strokes seemed more serious than smudged pencil. Ideas floated off the page like a butterfly on a breeze. Although the typed copy was resistant to erasure, my editor still struck out unnecessary words with his trusty #2. <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Transposed into newsprint, my stories scattered like pollen as newspapers flew onto porches and sections were strewn about kitchen tables, coffee shops, and board rooms. Paragraphs pulsed off the front page, taking flight, conjuring images in the reader’s eye. <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Again, time warped my words like plastic in the microwave. Massive distribution channels and the proliferation of photographs and graphics trivialized the copy. Social media minimized the meaning of the words. Like mosquitos swarming your eyes and buzzing your ears, the only course was to lock out the digital chaos, the truth vanishing before the end of the story.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal># # #<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p></div></body></html>