Work Text:
Long ago, I learned to laugh with others about my poor penmanship, which does not communicate what it ought. Darcy calls this my "rapidity of thought and carelessness of execution," but neither is true.
As a lad, I always favored my left hand. This horrified Father, Mother, nurse, governess, tutor, everyone as being "unnatural, wrong." I used the left in secret, until discovered and punished with a switch, the belt or a clobber.
Each time, I placed the pen back in my right fist, resolved to write as I ought. To do what is "right" I must write poorly instead.