My Typewriter Fetish

I bought a new typewriter over the weekend. And when I say new, I mean a near-mint condition Remington Quiet-Riter from 1952.

I found it on Craigslist for 15 bucks. The woman who sold it to me is a retired schoolteacher, and she’d kept it in her closet for thirty years. All I had to do was replace the ribbon. I was so pleased with my find, and for the fact that the woman didn’t try to gouge me, that I gave her 20 bucks. Yeah, I know—generous.

Photos by Kangster. I didn’t bother to take new ones since my Remington looks identical to his, and his pics are better.

I’ve written before, and in greater detail, about why I like to write drafts on typewriters, so I won’t do that here. Instead, let me tell you why I bought it.

First of all, it’s not because it’s pretty. Compared to my sleek, sexy Royal Quiet DeLuxe the Remington is a dog. It’s battleship gray with green keys, and it wouldn’t surprise me one bit to learn that it was constructed of salvaged ships from Midway. It’s the girl you ask to the prom after everyone else turns you down. (Not that I would know about this. I went with a girl named Lisa, who, at the time, was the school hottie—and that’s before the term hottie was even invented.)

Recently I finished a “vision statement” for a prospective publisher/marketing company, arguing why my detective series and I are worthy of investment. I put a lot of time and energy into that document, and when it was finished, I wanted a way to start a new project with no physical or emotional ties to the two books that have kept me chained to a desk for the past four years. I wanted to start fresh, on a “new” piece of equipment that doesn’t know me, my writing, my history.

That’s why I bought the Remington.

Unfortunately, the 1952 Remington did not come with a barefoot 1952 Alice Denham.

The new piece is going to be noir, and although I’m not sure what form it will take yet—novel, screenplay or stage play—I’m glad I have the new typewriter to work on. I’m going to wear my fedora every day to get into character. I’m going to buy a pack of filterless cigarettes and handle one once in a while. And most importantly, I’m going to write whatever it is on the gray and sullen Remington.