I’ll be ending the Typewriter Letter series at the end of 2022… with a few for a few hangers on moving into January 2023. A mere twelve-ish letters to go to my solid, loyal, little list of subscribers. Click here if you want them. It really is now or never.
Recap: I have been sending a lightly illustrated letter from the helm of one of my …. agrhm… 12 typewriters for the last year and a bit. What a delightful good time! Clickity-clack, stamp stamp, giggle giggle.
However, it seems people really don’t care about typewriters. I shouldn’t be surprised, and yet I’m kind of surprised.
Except… the few remaining typewriter repair shops have been seeing a resurgence of business. Watch this lovely 8 minute documentary:
Just look at these beautiful eyes.
They’ve been gazing inside the depths of typewriters for decades. Bet there were a lot of dead spiders in there.
Most of my typewriters had pencil shavings in them. Not surprising. Imagine the author reading over what she wrote while at the same time sharpening a pencil hovering above the keys. I found blood once. Not sure if it was related to the sharpening of a pencil…. or murder.
Oh Angela.
Seems my writerly self can’t write ALL THE THINGS. Something had to give. Since not many people have subscribed to the letters anyway… sigh… it was the logical choice.
It parallels the end of typewriters themselves.
Letters to emails… typewriters to computers… dial-up to fiber networks… cable to streaming… Mika to Harry Styles…
Sad, and yet… shoulder shrug. Can’t change change.
I’ll still be typing… I’ll just be typing letters to friends, morning pages, poems, and fun stuff. Never a book. There is no way. Just so you know I haven’t completely regressed.
If you want in on the last dirty dozen, subscribe at the shop.
The Dirty Dozen refers to twelve of the most common human error preconditions, or conditions that can act as precursors, to accidents or incidents. These twelve elements influence people to make mistakes. Source: SKYbrary Aviation Safety
Typewriter Letters. Best mistake EVER.
If you’re still reading, here’s one of the letters:
Dear Reader,
Went to the fair. It is a whole different ballgame with a kid. You go through the poultry pavilion and show great enthusiasm while your kid holds her nose and says it stinks and let’s get out of here FAST.
Then you go on a kiddy ride. She is very enthusiastic in line, then white with terror as we spin around on the pink dragon. At the games zone, every kid is a winner. What the kid wins is based on what you are willing to spend. Ten bucks won us a stuffed chipmunk holding a nut. We call her Nutella. She is a girl… so Miss Nut Ella.
Acquired all the usual food items: cotton candy, fudge, caramel apple. Then we were blessed with rain, which meant no tears on the way to the car. Winning parent moment thanks to the weather.
Christophe cannot fake boredom. He is incapable of more than FINE… FINE JUST FINE face, while I am over compensating over farm animals… LOOK AT THE BUNNIESSSSSS… AMAZING!!!!!!!
Any other day of the week I wage war against bunnies in my garden, but caged up I am willing to pretend to admire them.
Writing to you on a Smith Corona Classic 12. The platen is extra wide for addressing big envelopes I suppose. This one arrived after my mom went to an antique barn. It sticks here and there, but otherwise decent, like a well-worn clutch. I have yet to un-stickify the keys with spritzes of cleaning products and scrubs with old toothbrushes. Hardly a pro clean, but hey, neither is my house. You make do with what you have. This machine comes with a QWERTZ keyboard instead of the usual QWERTY keyboard so there is always a mental leap when typing a Y or Z as thez… THEY switched places. Also includes some nifty accents and symbols so I am all set in any language… onlz… only a little trouble with English.
Back to the fair. When I was a kid, the fair was HUGE. A giant casino of bells, whistles, and fries. Now, I am amazed at how they put it together. It’s just a parking lot, and yet for a week each year it is the land of hopes and dreams. An oasis of ribbons and prize money. It is the sun and moon and stars. A glimmering galaxy of goodies. How does it happen? I suppose with a mix of lighting, layout, and a herd of over enthusiastic mommies to keep the illusion alive.
Janice
