Often when buying a gift for a friend or family member who happens to be a writer the mind can draw a blank as empty as an unwritten manuscript.
Let's face it. A writer often owns tons of books, and they rarely are seen outside their writing cubbyhole to know what their interests are besides the newest best seller or the talk of the town script. They possess piles of pencils, notepads, and the newest software in writing scripts. So, what to get them?
I recently received the greatest gift a writer can ask for. A 1930s Remington Noiseless Portable in pristine condition. And it has changed my writing time!
After the initial shock upon opening my gift and calming down from my imagination's theory on who had owned it through the years, I sat down and clacked away on the beautiful black, round keys. Oh, the wondrous sound of clacking and dinging sent me straight into writer heaven.
What I found to be most interesting is how the stories begin to just flow out onto the starch, white paper. By not having a constant reminder of a misspelled word or an incorrect usage of a sentence, my brain and fingers take off flying. Even my spelling has transformed, because you must think about the words you are writing and not leave it up to spell checker. Finally, my inner editor goes on vacation the moment I sit down and type.
I now use my gorgeous piece of engineering to mainly plot out stories, outlines, and scripts. For a while now I've had a story idea floating around inside my head and when I sat down at old Remington, within an hour I had a full narrative typed out of all three acts all the way down to each plot point, mid-point, and the end. Then I used my outline to write the script in Final Draft.
So, if you ever want to experience an amazing transformation in your writing habit, invest in an old manual typewriter and discover a whole new level to your storytelling.
I still ponder when typing if Hemingway, or perhaps Fitzgerald, once used old Remington and maybe somehow, they channel through me to relive the writer's life.
Ah... a writer can dream, right?
