So take all the craziness I just brought to talking about colour and kick it up a notch, and you now have how I feel about fonts.
I can only write using certain fonts. Everything having to do with Rachel Goldman is written in Garamond. I can only write about her in Garamond, single-spaced (it only gets put into double space when it leaves my hands to go to the agent or publisher). If computers ever stopped supporting the font Garamond, there would no longer be a Rachel Goldman.
The one exception is mapping for Rachel Goldman books (sketching out notes, scene by scene). Those all have to be done in American Typewriter.
I recently started writing a new book — a paranormal romance — in Cambria. It felt like a Cambria sort of book at first. I got out the first thirty pages, and then decided to tweak the plotline, and with the tweak, I needed a new font. I’ve tabled it for the time being until I finish Apart at the Seams, but picking a new font will need to take place before I continue writing it.
This blog — Stirrup Queens — is written in Georgia. Georgia is totally fine, neither here nor there. It’s like water to me.
I like serifed fonts. I pretty much only like serifed fonts. They make me feel as if the word is complete. Sans-serifed fonts, such as Arial, make me feel as if the words are a little too naked. Not a freeing sort of naked, but more like forgetting-to-put-on-your-pants-and-then-driving-to-work naked. To me, it’s not an accident that sans-serifed fonts are sometimes called “grotesque” by typographers (fine, from “Grotesk”). I find them grotesque.
Let me explain how important fonts are to me: I would rather write a book on a typewriter with a serifed font than write a book on a computer with a sans-serifed font. I know part of the reason for the typewriter would also be that I like to hear clicks while I’m writing (I can’t use a “silent” keyboard). But the much larger part would be the font.
I love thinking about fonts and dissecting fonts, and I subscribe to a bunch of blogs that talk about nothing but fonts. I love words like spine and descender and crossbar. A good font make me happy. It’s like getting hot chocolate on a cold day: it invites you in. A good font invites the reader into a word, and if the words link together well, it invites the reader into a world.
I really care about the fonts other people use too. I like that most blog readers (such as Feedly), put all the posts into the same typeface. But I appreciate good fonts so much that I will leave Feedly and read the post on your site, even if I know that I can’t comment because I’m on my phone, just so I can see your font. A lot of times, I think of bloggers in terms of their font — part of how I process your personality comes from your font choice — and when you change your font, it throws me off. Massively.
On a scale from 1 to 10, with 1 being “I never notice fonts… what the hell are you talking about?” and 10 being “I can name all of my favourite fonts too” where do you fall in terms of font-love?