A Journey Through My Typewriter Collection

I had a word processor when I was a kid. This processor was not software it was hardware. (Remember, it wasn't that long ago when not everyone had a computer at home). You typed and it displayed about one sentence on a small LCD screen. Then it printed that sentence on paper like a typewriter. I remember it fondly. Maybe that's why I've always liked typewriters. Maybe it's the novelty. Maybe it's the magic and romance of typewriters. So many of the truly great things ever written were written on one.

I still use notebook and pen, especially at the beginning of a project. I wrote the first drafts of my first two novels by hand. But like everyone else I use MS Word or Google Docs on a desktop or laptop to finish and submit my work. Sometimes though I pull out a typewriter. It gets the creative juices flowing like not much else does.

I've long loved old typewriters. Old typewriters, as though there's some other kind. I started collecting them about fifteen years ago. I only have a few, but they represent key eras in typewriter technology and writing.

I have a 1930s-era Royal Type O. The keys must be struck hard, and it often jams if your typing is like mine. But the sensation of working on that beauty is priceless. It transports you to the 30s. The typed page looks like something from Miller's Crossing. It even smells like 1933.

I have a 1960s-vintage Lettera 32. Very similar to that used by McCarthy. He wrote Blood Meridian on his. It's small, portable and sleek. It feels somehow Paris Review, but I don't know why. I'd love to write an entire crime novel on mine.

Finally, I have a Brother electric 3600 from the 1980s. It hums when it's plugged in. And when you type it thunders the character levers into the page like heavy machinery. It's so 1980s it makes me feel like I've just ghostwritten George McFly's bestseller. The shift key doesn't work. No machine's perfect.