Twee Typists

Pirandello photo courtesy of The Classic Typewriter Page

Twee Typists

One of my pet procrastination projects is researching the habits of famous writers. I find it fascinating that some writers crossed the digital divide while others still use analog methods of composition.

I'm interested in this subject because I'm part of both camps. I write the first draft of a piece by hand and edit it on a computer before publishing. This method works for me, which is OK with a task as solitary as writing, as long as one get the words down. So when I read how Capote wrote while reclining or Hemingway barechested and standing up, I consider it nothing more than idiosyncrasy. And no person, or at least no writer, is without at least a couple idiosyncrasies.

But I'm puzzled about writers that still use typewriters, especially since I rarely see typewriters these days (I live in a First World country and I don't have a time machine). What I find particularly strange is not someone like Cormac McCarthy, who has been rolling the platen for half a century. I'm talking about writers who grew up using computers but reverted to the typewriter to craft their work. I couldn't really understand what justified the inherent inconvenience in using a typewriter so I did more research about it and came across what may be the best non-government, non-commercial propaganda site on the net.

The Classic Typewriter Page¹ is run by Dr Richard Polt, Chair of the Philosophy Department at Xavier University² . The site is a cornucopia of typewriter knowledge. It's also useful for gen X/Yers interested in joining the typewriter subculture. While geared toward typewriter enthusiasts (though using one in 2014 means you're an enthusiast from the start), the most interesting part of the site is the selection of essays called Typewriter Tributes³. Written primarily by academics, students, and journalists, these pieces advocate using a typewriter in the 21st century.

The essays have a twofold purpose: to unlock and rekindle shared sensory memories of typewriter users and to show how typewriters have not been outmoded by computers and are still a useful tool for writing. The first aim didn't impress itself on me after reading the essays. This isn't surprising given that I did not grow up with typewriters and have fooled around on them only a couple times. My generation cut their typing teeth on those long since forgotten word processor boxes. I tried to keep an open mind while reading the essays, but I'm not convinced of the typewriter's usefulness. Each of the essays relies upon three assumptions, and the authors seemed unaware of this probably because they are biased, so fervent are their feelings about their favorite composition tool.

The first assumption has to do with computers and shows up in virtually all of the pieces. It would not be an exaggeration to say that computers have killed the typewriter's historical ubiquity. Typewriter fans have an ax to grind with computers, because the rise of computers means that typewriters are now difficult to find and repair. Of course, the webpage is ironic given that these pieces appear online (and not, say, in a typewritten newsletter). Irony aside, the authors generally make it clear that they are not anti-technology. That means that they aren't anti-Internet (after all, the web is now the best source for acquiring new and old typewriters and for learning how to fix them). Rather, they are anti-word processor.

Their beef with word processors (the document editing programs on a computer, not the aforementioned stand alone units that died out in the 1990s) is that they just get in the way. Their little hammers strike the page in unison with their detestation of always knowing the word count, of the digital hum of the box and of the troubleshooting procedure that any computer user must go through when things go wrong.⁴ 

What's silly about their protestations is the assumption that a computer's default, annoying configuration is immutable. Anyone who has ever used a computer knows this isn't true. Computers by their very nature are adaptable, and most problems take little time to fix. Pretty much all of the things about computers that drive these people nuts can be resolved by at least some knowledge on how to get help, or alternatively through searching for the problem on the internet. It is as if these typists don't know how to change the settings on their computer or else they know how to but refuse to do so because then the computer would win and they would be forced to acknowledge that typewriters are outmoded.

That a computer's settings can be changed seems blatantly obvious, but here's an example. I'm editing this document on a netbook with a cramped keyboard and I frequently brush against the touchpad while doing so. When this happens, blocks of text jump around and insert themselves in nonsensical places in the document. In order to get around this problem, I press the F6 key which disables the touchpad. This doesn't completely solve the problem of a small keyboard and a hypersensitive touchpad, but it certainly helps. Even a cheap netbook anticipates user problems and provides ways of fixing them.

Granted, the appeal of manual typewriters for being "green" and "off the grid" is a valid point when compared to a PC (this would explain why The Classic Typewriter Page emphasizes manual rather than electric models). But the fact remains that most of the problems with computers can be solved with little time and effort, though these typists seem to have trouble admitting it.

Another problem with these pieces is that the idea of composing with pen and paper is conveniently ignored. There are a couple of pieces which gaze fondly on the idea of working in longhand⁵ but generally these authors assume that even a longhand first draft is not feasible. This nearsightedness is unfortunate since writing by hand is pretty much distraction-free (unless you're a doodler, I'm not), environmentally friendly (what's the carbon footprint of a fifteen pound hunk of metal?) and just plain convenient (you can work pretty much anywhere so less procrastination). Simplicity, "greenness," and the ease of not being tied to an electrical outlet are aspects that these essayists tout about their manuals, but a legal pad has all of these things and more.

There are two other advantages to longhand that typists would treasure (if these essays are any indication). The first is that writing by hand generally takes longer than typing. This is important because for manual aficionados part of the appeal is that these machines force you to, allegedly, slow down and think and not make an ass of yourself as you would while text-dumping on a PC.⁶ There is a kind of pride in going slow and working with pain as your fingertips become chafed and hardened with experience and your blood, sweat and tears result in a real manuscript (as opposed to a measly computer printout).⁷

Writing in longhand may not work out the muscles of both hands as typing does but otherwise it is just the right sort of quaint. After all, pretty much everyone until Twain used some variant of longhand, and I'd wager that there's more pride in thumbing through a MS in your very own idiosyncratic hand, complete with all its flourishes and foibles. There's something to be said for producing something that resembles the Magna Carta, if only slightly.

Speaking of history, the third assumption in these pieces is that famous typists, given the choice, would have preferred a typewriter over a computer. There is a repetitive rhetoric strain that computers are puny and not masculine and that famous 20th century writers would not demoralize themselves (male writers are usually cited, perhaps unsurprisingly) by using one.⁸ While it may be true that Fitzgerald used a typewriter and not a computer, it would be a stretch to say that he would have rejected a PC if the technology had been around in his day. Likewise maybe Daniel Defoe would have worn snapbacks or maybe he would not have, the point is we can't definitively and retroactively say that he certainly would not have. If a typewriter was the most efficient writing tool of its time, perhaps people used them in the early 20th century because they were state of the art, just as the computer is now state of the art.

I doubt that the authors of these essays would agree with this line of thinking. However, I don't agree with their assertion that there is some vast chasm of difference between typing on a computer and typing on an Olivetti.⁹ If there is a difference surely it pales beside the difference between writing in longhand and typing.

If you've made it this far, it's time to ask so what? Who cares if people still use typewriters to write books? Most people will write on computers, fewer will eschew the PC for drafting and editing in longhand or on a typewriter. There will continue to be good writing regardless of where it was originally captured and polished.

But after reading through The Classic Typewriter Page and periodically checking Craigslist for used typewriters out of curiosity, I came to an unsettling realization. These typists are a very brand conscious bunch in a world that has no place for brands. Unlike music or sculpture or painting, writing is an art form less dependent on an artist's tools than on his or her talent, determination and experience (using experience as inclusively as possible). Typewriter fans however, believe that different typewriter brands and models work better for different projects.¹⁰ This explains why so many of the essayists confess to owning multiple typewriters¹¹ while at the same time bragging about the indestructibility of any given typewriter as compared to any given computer. Why own so many if all you need is one to last for a lifetime of writing?

This brand consciousness is best seen on the Writers and their Typewriters¹² page, which lists the preferred models of each writer and links to photographs of The Writer At Work At His Beloved Typewriter (caption mine). The photos are a crystallization of the site as a whole. They overemphasize the nostalgia of the typewriter in an attempt to show that these machines are still relevant. What's particularly disingenuous is the inclusion of writers like Truman Capote¹³ and Elmore Leonard¹⁴, both of whom wrote in longhand first and foremost and then used a typewriter later on for editing.

These typewriter fans assume that writers had an affinity with their writing machines, as seen in the photographs of mind and machine working together to produce a masterpiece. But it is just as likely that writers stuck with a particular typewriter because typewriters were expensive (and incredibly enough some of them still are) so they kept it as long as it worked, not because they felt that the machine allowed them to work at their best. At least some of the writers on that long list thought of typewriters as no different than teapots or shaving brushes: if it worked, great; if not, replace it. There may never have been any material attraction of the kind common among typewriter aficionados. The typewriter was just an object, a tool that allowed one to save time as compared with longhand. A writer's identity was not defined (and is still not defined) by the tools at his or her disposal.

It is unsettling to talk about writing tools as if they bear an impact on the finished product because the real work of writing takes place in the writer's head. The wax tablet, quill, pen/pencil, typewriter or word processor only sets it down and only after it passes through the quality control of the cortex. Perhaps Michelangelo's David would have been a little less beautiful had it not been carved from Carrara marble. Maybe Van Gogh had to use a specific type of paint in order to make his sunflowers look so real. But would Tender Is the Night have been a different novel if Fitzgerald had been a Remington man instead of an Underwood user? I doubt it.

One often wonders how much nostalgia clouds the writing process, especially when the writer writes with an antique. For typewriter fans there seems to be a peculiar (but often futile) desire to know the story behind every vintage machine, in an effort to establish affinity with an author from a predictably cherished bygone era¹⁵. I have no truck with a person who tries to sell a vintage typewriter by mentioning that it was Hemingway's preferred machine, but the fact that someone would buy such a machine believing that that useless fact will help them be a better writer makes me cringe. If one insists on freebasing nostalgia, why stop at typewriters? Why not think of famous writers who wore the same color socks as you do? Why not believe that you have some Dickens in you because you subconsciously started your novel with "It was the best of"? Embracing your inner Hemingway is less about shelling out for a vintage Royal and more about hanging out on Duval Street and learning how to fish and appreciate bullfighting. Experience over object. Always.

We snicker at the mediocre player who claims that new Jordans—and not more practice time—will improve his game. But I fear that we are not far off from when this brand objectification silliness will affect the writing world as well. Is it really a stretch to imagine an essay on how a novel written on a Mac differs from one written on a PC? Personally I don't think we're that far off, as ludicrous as it sounds. What irks me about typewriter users is that they embrace the vintage vibe of using old technology but ignore the beauty and brilliance of the dying art of penmanship.¹⁶ Shitty writing will happen by hand, typewriter or word processor because a writer's tools can only carry him so far; they cannot compensate for what really matters. Writing must come from experience and not from nostalgic or trendy decisions on the best tools to use. But if things seem headed towards that direction, at least we can take solace by pointing the finger of blame at those twee typists. 

MS of this author's first draft in a lovely script font called Mine

¹ http://site.xavier.edu/polt/typewriters/
² http://www.xavier.edu/campusuite25/modules/faculty.cfm?faculty_id=133&grp_id=32
³ http://site.xavier.edu/polt/typewriters/tributes.html
⁴ One piece, a list of why typewriters are supposedly better than computers, harps repetitively on the obvious fact that typewriters require no tech support, though I would argue that typewriters don't lack mechanical issues: http://site.xavier.edu/polt/typewriters/rosica.pdf
⁵ According to one author, typewriters offer more than pen and paper because of the sound of the keys; see http://site.xavier.edu/polt/typewriters/mcguire.html (The quality of the puns in this essay alone is worth the read). Another essay muses that using a typewriter could be as authentic as writing with a pen; see http://site.xavier.edu/polt/typewriters/pannapacker.html. (This also happens to be the best essay on the site, in this author's opinion).
⁶ A linked article on the Typewriter Tributes page discusses, among other things, historian David McCullough's love of the slowness of using a typewriter: http://site.xavier.edu/polt/typewriters/typingwriters.pdf.
⁷ The apparently positive link between using a typewriter and building hand strength is discussed here; http://site.xavier.edu/polt/typewriters/mcguire.html.
⁸ Ibid.
⁹ One piece groups typewritten letters with handwritten letters and sets them against the personality lacking nature of emails. I find this grouping dubious since one of the interesting things about handwriting is that the words never look identical in every instance, leading the reader to attempt to read the writer's emotions while writing the letter. There is a reason why graphology limits itself to handwriting and does not include manual typewriting: no matter which obscure typewriter one uses, it is still a mass-produced and standardized means of composing a document with a set font, completely lacking in the flair and variance of handwriting. When the typewritten letters vary in appearance it is not due to the author's intent (as so with longhand) but rather to the mechanical quirks of the machine. The essay in question is available here: http://site.xavier.edu/polt/typewriters/matthews.html.
¹⁰ One poet believes that different typewriters are conducive to different types of writing (?), and thus he uses various machines for writing: http://site.xavier.edu/polt/typewriters/watkins.html
¹¹ Polt himself has over 250 typewriters—http://site.xavier.edu/polt/typewriters/tw-collection.html. For more essays that discuss collecting, see http://site.xavier.edu/polt/typewriters/alfaro.pdf and http://site.xavier.edu/polt/typewriters/best.html.
¹² http://site.xavier.edu/polt/typewriters/typers.html
¹³ For more on Capote and longhand composition, see http://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/4867/the-art-of-fiction-no-17-truman-capote 
¹⁴ Leonard wrote his earliest work on a typewriter, then changed to longhand, see http://www.gq.com/entertainment/profiles/200009/elmore-leonard-how-to-write 
¹⁵ One writer gives her typewriter a name and speculates about its history, see http://site.xavier.edu/polt/typewriters/kateriewing.pdf. Many of the pieces expand on this theme, often employing the cliché of the old-fashioned journalist, no stranger to excessive alcohol and tobacco use. For examples of this see http://site.xavier.edu/polt/typewriters/best.html and http://site.xavier.edu/polt/typewriters/persson.html. Another piece that discusses using a famous author's old machine, in this case Jack Kerouac's, can be found here: http://site.xavier.edu/polt/typewriters/watkins.html. Yet another writer apparently chose to use a typewriter because Sylvia Plath used one; see http://site.xavier.edu/polt/typewriters/alfaro.pdf. 
¹⁶ And if you don't think penmanship is dying, ask yourself when you last heard someone describe their handwriting as something other than shitty.