Words Don’t Change
But what we use to put them down does so weekly!
I went through cupboards in my study the other day looking for something, and then I saw it for the first time in many years — Dad’s old typewriter, a Corona 3 model.
Most people today have no idea what the typewriter is. I remember, however, my very first typewriter. It, too, was a Corona and later a Coronet. I was so excited to get it and begin writing with it. I wrote many poems on that typewriter and wish I had copies.
My parents surprised me with my very own typewriter. I was so excited about it, and I spent a lot of time typing nonsense. I used that typewriter for many years, and it was quite a companion to me.
Then, I decided to upgrade to an electric typewriter. That was a significant upgrade for me. An afterthought: I wished I had kept that first typewriter. When I got the electric typewriter, I could type faster than I had ever been able to. However, I could not keep enough paper in the typewriter while typing.
Using those typewriters, you put in one sheet at a time, but since I knew nothing better, it was wonderful. I went through a lot of papers.
In those old typewriters, what you typed was exactly what you got. If you mistyped a word, it was mistyped. I cannot remember how often I yanked the paper out of the typewriter, put in a new piece, and started typing again.
What was so exciting was that I could use carbon paper between each page if I wanted several copies of my typing. What I typed on the first page was typed on the second and third pages. That sure was exciting because now I had copies of my typing.
The problem was when I made a typo on the first page, it went through to the last page. You could not fool those carbon copies. What was on one was precisely on the other.
I was thinking about that the other day and wondered how I used up a forest of trees just learning to type.
That typewriter was a friend of mine, and we worked like a well-oiled machine. The thing about that typewriter is that it never tried to correct me. It always went along with what I said and wrote — and never talked back to me. I was actually in charge.
I could always tell where my typewriter was because it was where I put it and never moved. Moving that typewriter would have been a big job, so it always remained on my desk, exactly where I put it. I could not take it traveling with me; I had to use it where it was.
At the time, I thought I had no better friend than that old typewriter of mine. Looking at it now, I smile as I remember how things have changed.
I was writing my first book, typing each page when I learned about this new thingamajig called a computer. Well, I was not going to get anything modern. I was going to do things the old way. After all, Ernest Hemingway did all his typing on a typewriter.
The more I learned about these computers, the more interested I became. According to the people I was talking to, I could increase my output 100 times faster. I initially did not believe that.
Finally, halfway through that first book, I decided to switch to a computer. Those first computers had no hard drive, so you had to put a floppy disk in to run any program you might be using and save what you were writing to a floppy disk.
I set up that new computer in my office and started fiddling to understand how it worked. To my surprise, the more I fiddled, the more I liked the music I heard.
I did not have to use paper until the manuscript was completed, and I could print it on a printer. If I made a typo, I could correct it on the screen, no problem.
Getting adjusted to it was difficult for me. I remember the first chapter I did and worked very hard to complete, but I forgot to save it on a disk and lost that whole chapter. I was pissed because my old typewriter would never have done that!
Over the years, I have regularly upgraded my computers to the point where I no longer have to type much. I can dictate into my computer and see words appear on the screen.
Maybe the way I do certain things today has changed, but the message is always the same.
Techniques change, but the words never will.
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