Author: Fallton Havenstonne

Typing on a typewriter takes some getting used to if you’ve been typing on a computer a lot. The great thing about typing on a typewriter is the immediacy of the printed word, since they show up on the page the instant you type them.

But what takes some getting used to is the fact that the keys must be pressed more forcefully, like you have to put more effort into pressing the keys instead of letting them roll off your finger tips, as is the case on a computer keyboard. And unlike a keyboard, you can’t fix your mistakes immediately after they’re made, nor can you delete a word if you accidentally typed the wrong one. Whatever mistakes you make are permanent; you have to live with them and move on despite wanting to fix them. And for me, since I’m used to typing fast on the keyboard, typing in a sprint on a typewriter will often leave a trail of light impressions on the page (i.e. uneven darkness in the words).

I’ve seen people type with just one finger on each hand, kind of like they were fishing or hunting for the letters. But I’m the kind of writer that was taught to type with both hands and not look down at my fingers, since it was kind of like cheating.

I do like the sound that the typewriter makes when the keys clack, which creates a strange mechanical rhythm, almost like a beat. Even when I make mistakes, I let them go, since it’s part of the writing process (not trying to make things perfect anyway). And the faster the keys clack, and the more dings I hear after each return, the more that’s being written, like hearing my thoughts come to life.

Sometimes when I write a story, I get so caught up in research that I lose focus on what I was actually writing about. I’ll go down a rabbit hole, becoming more immersed and intrigued in the research itself than the actual story. When this happens, I have to tell myself to pause and get back to writing, or else I’ll get so sidetracked that I’ll stop writing altogether.

It’s similar to going back and editing a draft while you’re in the middle of writing it. Instead of moving forward, adding lines and pages to the story, you spend more time trying to polish it as if it were the final draft. And like research, it can bog you down, take up precious time, spoil the momentum of the writing session.

What I like to do to counteract this is to tell myself to keep writing as if I am on a time crunch. Doing so encourages me to jot everything down onto the page, putting me in the moment of the dialogue and visuals. This urgency to get every thought and idea out before time runs out is like an act of recording their transitory and ephemeral existence before they disappear for good.

When writing the first draft, I’ll use the same word over and over again without realizing it. For example, I’ll use the word “and,” “as” or “the” to no end, or I might start a series of sentences the same way. It’s not until I begin editing the story that I’ll notice these redundancies, and I’ll look for words to substitute them (i.e. synonyms), or I might delete or rewrite the sentence so that it doesn’t sound repetitive.

The Thesaurus can be a great tool during the editing process. When I can’t think of a new word that I’m trying to replace, I’ll use the Thesaurus, which will give a list words that mean (or are similar to) a specific word. It can also provide antonyms, which are words that are opposite of that specific word. I’ll only use the Thesaurus, however, when I’m editing, since my focus during the first draft is to get all my thoughts down–to fill up the pages–rather than to polish the writing.

It’s easy to overlook the small steps that it takes to reach our goals. It’s as if our minds are more enamored by the end product–the goal–as soon as it sets its sights on it. It’s more focused on reaching the finish line rather than the steps that it takes to get there. But much like writing a book or a story, it’s only possible when small steps are taken, since it leads to chapters getting written, and when enough of them are finished, the story is complete.

Or it’s like working on a math equation, where the solution is found by applying the laws of equality several times until the final line is x = a, where a is a number. The solution couldn’t have been found until the intermediary steps were applied. And a book couldn’t be written without pages and chapters being finished. All those small steps matter, since they make up the end product–are necessary to the achievement our goal(s).

Writing is a long journey. It requires countless hours of reflection and internal dialogue within our minds while we pen our thoughts down. There’s no immediate reward for it except the feeling of getting our pent-up feelings and thoughts out into the world.

Becoming a good writer or even a prolific one isn’t something that happens overnight. It takes persistence and years of practice to learn and develop the craft, of putting in the time to mull over the details of our prose, of editing every last sentence and word.

We may feel like there is no reward at the end of the tunnel, as if we’re spending time on something that will not yield some life-changing reward. But it may not be about a reward that’s waiting for us. Writing is like holding up a mirror to our thoughts rather than creating a tangible object that has some utility or function such as a chair or a tool. It doesn’t necessarily have to have a monetary or practical value, since even filling up a journal could bring joy and meaning to us.

Rather, this long journey of finding our voice, of developing our style, of putting ideas and stories down on paper, is what gives life and brings meaning to our ideas and thoughts before they disappear.