Pointers and pressure. Those are the two things I remember when I used to type on the old typewriter from my childhood. My pointer fingers had to pound the keys to transport my message from head to paper. A white slice I had so carefully aligned and rolled into place. The slightest off-kilter not evident until I reached the end of the page and my last line of thought tracked downhill. I might have appeared frustrated with my writing as I jabbed at the letters, but it was just the muscle needed to work a manual typewriter. The tings and clicks, pings and clacks - these were the sounds of writing. And my favorite part of all was the advancement of the "Carriage Return Lever" (just looked that up - you know, the arm thingamagig on the left side). Each time I hit it, it was the reassuring sound of Yup, you just finished that line. Keep going, Lisa. Of course there was no delete button. Or copy and paste feature. Or recycling movement that would have frowned upon the crumpled pages that got repeatedly ripped out and tossed. I was just a little kid at the time. Playing with my parents typewriter. Pretending to be a writer.
I found this beauty at a local flea market. With the ROYAL logo across the front and the stately, classic design of the entire piece - smoky, black finish...smooth chrome accents...velvety ribbon...slightly concave letter buttons - I knew I had to take this vintage typewriter home. I lifted her up and was reminded of how heavy these are. Twenty pounds, at least. Now she's sitting on my desk (side note: I'm realizing that this is the second blog where I call my writing "machine" a she.) She's watching me type this blog onto the quiet keyboard of my desktop computer. All fingers engaged, no wasted paper on the floor, barely a sound. And I wonder, does Royal even work? She looks quite competent. Like a workhorse. I didn't even ask the person who sold her to me. Didn't even care. All I was thinking was how cool this antique typewriter would look on my desk. How shallow am I? S O R R Y...pound, pound...R O Y A L...jab, jab.