Maybe
it’s a part of the yearning for a slower, simpler world, a less digitized world
when others--- including the National Security Agency---didn’t have instant
access to our privacy. Or perhaps it’s more a desire to touch and embrace an
older vehicle for communicating.
It
could be both.
I’m
referring to the return of the typewriter.
Even
high school students are learning the joys and frustrations of tap tap tapping
away on what many consider an anachronistic way of communicating.
Ryan
Adney, a high school English teacher, has his students doing almost all their
writing on typewriters these days. In an
interview with NBC’s Stephanie Gosk, Adney said 20 years ago only eccentrics
used a typewriter. But that’s changing. People across the country are utilizing
the typewriter. That would include the high profile users like Pope Francis I; the
famous collectors, like Tom Hanks (he owns 12 of the old printing machines); and
the modern day enthusiasts, like Mike McGeddigan, who organized a “type-in.”
McGeddigan prefers typewriters because they are finely crafted, are not meant
to be obsolete, and are intended to do only one thing: type.
It’s
the simplicity of that “one thing” that apparently appeals to so many, even among
some of the younger generation. “They help you concentrate more because on a
computer there’s other distractions,” said Jessica Duren, one of Adney’s
students. Because typewriters have no backspace, spell check, or auto correct,
mistakes are more permanent. “You gotta know what you’re gonna say and make
sure it makes sense,” said another student, Sonia Aldana.
Adney
believes the machines have helped his students improve their writing skills because
they have to be more cognizant of their word choices, and slowing down has facilitated
their creativity, he maintains.
And
then the nostalgia of using a typewriter can create enthusiasm for writing: “When
you’re sitting at one, you almost feel like you could be like…Ernest Hemingway
or Jack Kerouac,” said student Matthew Scidoni.
“Now
that’s what I need,” I mused as I read about the return of the typewriter. I
pictured myself with my hands on an old Smith-Corona, channeling Jack London or
Ray Bradbury as I pecked away. “The perfect vaccine to any possible invasion of
the writer’s block virus,” I thought. “I’ll be perpetually energized.”
But
then something woke me to reality and sent me running to hug my beloved laptop:
It was the memory of my typewriting class in high school.
I
had learned the keyboard with relative ease, but then came the more technical
aspect of the course: the correct layout for a business letter, proper form for
footnotes, the simple office memo---details I figured I’d never use. Then my
guidance counselor informed in a by the way moment that I had already
accumulated enough credits to graduate. “Just wondering, why did you add the typing
class?” he asked.
Good question. I promptly dropped that first
hour typing class and slept an extra hour each day.
A
few months later I graduated and merrily went along my way without much use for
a typewriter. I had one (an item, along with my 1974 Chevy Camaro, I now wish I
had kept) but rarely used it. I wrote in longhand and either had a friend type
my research papers or paid a typist. Although I wish I were more proficient on
my laptop keyboard, corrections are easily made with a computer.
Granted,
the computer invites distractions. Stopping to check email or facebook messages
can be deadly to meeting deadlines.
But
the typewriter isn’t the perfect antidote to the problem, at least not for
everyone.
Shelby
Foote, author of the massive three volume history, The Civil War: A Narrative, refuses to use even a typewriter. In an
interview for The Academy of Achievement,
Foote said, “I don’t want anything to do with anything mechanical between me
and the paper, including a typewriter.” The clatter of the typewriter and the
turning of the drum backward to make corrections is “a kind of interruption”
Foote can’t stand. He even refuses to use a fountain pen, opting instead for
the old-fashioned dip pen, preferring it for the same reason some like a
typewriter: The dip pen forces him to slow down and think before writing each
word.
But
a pen can be frustrating too. Novelist Stephen King likes to write in longhand.
“The only problem,” he says, “is that, once I get jazzed, I can’t keep up with
the lines forming in my head and I get frazzled.”
Precisely.
King’s problem reminded me why I started using the laptop in the first place. And
that brings me back to my love affair with my writer-friendly computer, to whom
I pledge my everlasting loyalty.
At
least until a more efficient writing companion comes along.
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