I have discussed many aspects of writing on this blog, mostly in terms of narrative structure and the like, but I haven't felt the need to discuss the actual mechanism options for the actual act of writing itself. Mostly because, before becoming good friends with my mechanical companion, I hadn't given much thought about how different devices can impact your ability and mindfulness. Since distractions of any kind have always been a writers worst enemy, the digital age has introduced many alternative writing devices to help writers focus on their craft and put out their works. Still, even as technology continues to advance (for better and for worse), there's something about the tactile feeling the typewriter offers that, as far as I can tell, can't be properly replicated in any digital space.
In becoming an author and screenwriter, I was initially attracted to the romantic novelty of the typewriter; there is a sense of prestige these mechanical wonders offer that is often associated (wrongfully I might add) with perfection. Feeling unable to attain that level of creativity, and certain that I would never actually use a typewriter for any of my projects, I sought a means of recreating the typewriter experience without actually purchasing one: I got an app for my iPad that replicated using a typewriter (which is more of a novelty than a productivity tool), I downloaded a program on my computer that plays typewriter sound effects when using the keyboard (which I stopped using), and I installed clicky-sounding-style switches in my mechanical keyboard (which I have since switched out for smoother linear switches).
Then, after exhausting as many options as possible (short of purchasing one of the many dedicated digital typewriter devices offered), it happened! I went on Etsy, found a shop in the Netherlands that repaired and sold classic typewriters, and placed an order for one; the exact same one you see in the photo above.
At first, it was merely a decoration; a symbol of my affirmation to become a dedicated writer (among other things). The few times I did use it for real, it was merely for getting the feel of it, typing out random and silly things for fun. The idea of using it for anything else hadn't crossed my mind, at least not at first.
Sometime later, I watched an amazing film titled California Typewriter: a documentary from 2016 about using typewriters in the digital age, directed by Doug Nichol (mostly known for directing a few music videos for Sting), the film featured interviews with people like Sam Shepard (notable playwright), and Tom Hanks (typewriter enthusiast and collector). Among the people interviewed, the one that spoke the most volumes to me was with musician and songwriter, John Mayer, who made the best argument for using a typewriter in the digital age, which became the turning point for me finally adopting the use of a typewriter full time (or as much as I could realistically afford).
In discussing his experience, John Mayer mentioned how challenging it can be to write any kind of creative work on a digital platform, because, aside from the typical distractions, they demand that you act as the creator and editor at the same time; distracting you from your creative goals. As an example, he cited some of his lyrics from one of his songs, The Age of Worry: "Close your eyes, clone yourself, and build your heart an armi." You will notice that I misspelled the word "army" and that was intentional. Because when you misspell a word on most digital platforms, you will see a little red line underneath it, prompting you to go back and fix it. While you're doing that, your mind suddenly loses track of where your creative flow was going, and, as stereotypical as it may sound of creative types, it is true that getting back into that same flow can be difficult.
So, Mr. Mayer decided that he would get himself a typewriter and try it out for his songwriting. He bought a brand new electric model from Brother, and he demonstrated how he would, as he described it, "be a creative wack job!" He would put his ideas and thoughts for songs onto the page with the typewriter, completely ignoring any typos or misspellings, partially because it didn't bother him, but mostly because the typewriter also didn't bother pointing them out; it couldn't!
By eliminating the very thing that demanded "perfection" while creating, Mr. Mayer managed to work out the rough basis for his songs. Furthermore, he now had a permanent and tangible reference of his creative works that was, as he also described it, "human compatible," as in not requiring a hard drive that you will inevitably stick into a drawer somewhere and never plug back into your computer again (yes, I have a drawer of hard drives myself).
This is when I finally realized and embraced the truth about typewriters: they are not instruments of perfection; they are tools for creative thought. By forcing you to push forward with your ideas regardless of grammar and/or spelling errors, you are reminded that what's most important in the moment is getting your idea on the page; editing and other such adjustments can and should wait! This, you may have surmised, became the notion that allowed me to improve as a writer, and become a full-time typewriter user and enthusiast.
Since adopting my mechanical friend, I have written and sent many letters to friends and loved ones, written piles of poems, scripts for short film projects, and, my proudest achievement so far, I've written the first draft of my very first two-act play. Also, I am currently writing the first draft of my next book on the typewriter.
Now, some of my beautiful readers may be saying, "but Norman, you wrote your first two books and all of your blog entries on the computer! Why would you suddenly go to the typewriter when you can clearly do what you need to do digitally?" And you would be right to ask such a question, for I have an answer!
Two words: tangible effort.
While writing some of my projects on the computer is more practical in some cases, there is a sense of pride from using a typewriter that cannot be matched. When you write on a computer, you're pressing a series of unseen digital commands that create representations of letters onto a screen, but when you write on a typewriter, you're instantly printing words onto a page. It's a night and day contrast that makes a world of difference in how it feels to write anything.
I do love my mechanical keyboard for my computer, and I do agree that not everything needs to be done in an analog way to yield better results, but when it comes to using the typewriter, I have yet to find something that matches the feeling that comes with seeing my thoughts spring to life on the page. So, if you're interested in writing of any kind, and you can't release your thoughts on any given digital platform, consider taking a step back and trying something different.
These days, typewriters can be found just about anywhere; typically in good working condition. And if they're not, there are still places and people out there who know how to fix them. And, like anything else worth having in life, if you take good care of it, then it will take good care of you.
Ladies & gentlemen, I am TheNorm; thank you all for reading.
THE REVOLUTION WILL BE TYPEWRITTEN
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