Armed With a Smith-Corona

The first typewriter I tried to use was this old.  A used Smith & Wesson.

Sorry.  I mean Smith-Corona.

Some of the keys stuck, and the key identifier was worn out or missing, so on some of the letters you just had to guess.

Luckily, I could write, using paper and pencil.  My penmanship was horrible.  My third grade teacher warned my parents that I need a tutor, and that if my writing did not improve, I would not graduate from elementary school, much less college.

I took a typing class as a Freshman in high school.  Half your grade came from a written test, and the other half from your typing speed.  I got an A on the written test, and a C in the class.  You can figure what my typing speed was from that.  I never really mastered the full hands ten-finger typing style, and to this day only use one or two fingers from each hand to type.

I got a fancier model for college.  I don't think it was electric, but it moved better, and had an automated return somehow.  I still made lots of mistakes, which you had to fix with correction fluid. My papers looked like a real mess.  The saving grace was that I used a lot of humor in my college papers, and that caused the professors to laugh and cut me some slack in grading my blotchy mess.

My writing really got fired up when, as an adult, I got a home computer called an Apple II GS.  It allowed to write with more confidence.  I wrote a number of short stories, including a novel novel that I got 350 pages into.  Unfortunately when I got newer computers, the word programs were not compatible and much of that stuff was lost.  I do have a copy of the novel, if any one's interested.  I would take it up again, but I'm too lazy to retype in that many pages.

Later, clouds and stuff made it easier to maintain my works.  And when they change the Word program, they have the good graces to make compatible with earlier editions. I can cut, copy and paste to my heart's delight.  It can spell check and grammar check (not that I always pay attention).

The Internet brought me the opportunity to create a blog that I can share with anyone interested enough to struggle through it.  Self-publishing has become easier than ever, thanks to things like Amazon's Create Space and ebooks.  Getting anyone to pay attention to them is a struggle, but they sure are easy enough to get on.

Now my son, Benjamin, has a program where he just talks into the computer, and it's put into written form. That may be a step too far for me.

In future generations, you may be able to just think it, and have it translated into print.  now, that a scary thought, especially as scattered PIE! as my thought process SQUIRREL! is.


Thoughts to stories.  Pen to paper.  Typing to express.

The means change, but the desire to express and communicate does not.

If only I could type with more fingers.  But soon, that may be irrelevant.  If I can stand the transition.