The art of letters

If you’ve read Murder Below Deck – or the US edition, May Contain Murder, which came out just before Christmas – you’ll have noticed that I’m fascinated by handwriting. At the risk of sounding fanciful, I think it holds a mirror up to the soul; you can tell so many things about the writer at a glance. For instance, if they’re the artistic type, or eccentric, or in a rush – or all of the above.

In Murder Below Deck, there’s quite a lot of ‘business’ involving letters and documents. Marje Mayham, my Hollywood character, writes in appalling scribble – griffonnage – and her slimy assistant, Blue, uses a clever system called Speedwriting, which abbreviates common words and is just about intelligible to the rest of us if you study it closely.

And then there are left-handers. I’m right-handed myself, but throughout my career I found myself working either for or alongside left-handers, and I’m married to an ambidexter. I enjoy spotting them: if an actor has to write something on screen, they often do it left-handed - far more than the national average. Once you start looking, you see them everywhere.

When I was about fifteen I took a dislike to my writing and decided to upgrade it. Like most of my generation I’d been taught a very basic style (if you can call it style) and I took it upon myself to learn italics. That’s how I write now, or try to.

At about the same time I also taught myself to touch-type, which is perhaps the most useful skill I ever learnt. Later, as a journalist, I was sent to learn Pitman’s Shorthand, but it was too late and I never got it up to a useful speed. It does however have one redeeming feature: if I wake in the middle of the night, I run through a few outlines in my head and soon fall back to sleep.)

A few years ago I inherited three beautiful fountain pens. They needed some attention, so I joined a Facebook Group of pen aficionados - a friendly bunch, even if they take their obsessions (notably ink and paper) rather seriously. A few of the members write in copperplate, and I was rather taken by it.

I asked a friend who studied calligraphy whether she thought I should have a go. She told me that when she lived in Vancouver, she was going to evening classes in calligraphy, while her flatmate was reading speed-reading. One evening they compared notes.

‘What did you do?’ Angela asked.

 ‘I read a novel,’ he replied. ‘How about you?’

‘I wrote the letter M,’ said Angela.

In between book-writing during the last year, I’ve started to learn copperplate myself. It’s extremely challenging and I remain a complete beginner - so much so that Robert bought me Rachel Yallop’s online copperplate course as a Christmas present.

Like any hobby, a good deal of the pleasure lies in the equipment. I now have a drawer full of nibs, penholders, ink, paper, rulers. I practise little and often, very slowly and carefully. I haven’t yet reached the stage of adding ‘flourishes’ – the curls and swirls, which are apparently the best part. But I’m getting there.