I typed “The End” on this bad boy this morning, after writing the last chapter and part of the epilogue at my local pub last night. I was actually at home trying to finish the epilogue after I got home but I fell dead asleep at the desk and woke up at 2:30AM, stared at the bizarre mishmash of semi-words I’d apparently typed in my sleep, and shrugged and went to bed.
This morning, armed with a double-strength coffee and a banana, I cleaned up the epilogue and typed “The End.”
This doesn’t mean the book is done, though. I’m going to work on something else for a month or so, then come back and do a rewrite.
Seriously, it’s in the rewrite that the magic happens.
Oh, hello! Hey there! Yes, I’m still alive. I hope everything is going okay with you. Having grown tired of taking pictures of birds and squirrels, and having lost interest in the new Animal Crossing game, I’ve doubled down on my first love: fiction writing.
Also, feeling somewhat nostalgic, I’ve invested in a couple of typewriters. Not for any real use (besides jotting an odd note here and there). More for inspiration and, well, for the current work in progress: research.
First, I lucked into the purchase of a pristine example of the favorite typewriter of both Ernest Hemingway and James Bond author Ian Fleming: the Royal Quiet Deluxe.
What a machine. A perfect example of how people used to build things to last and last. This typewriter is over 70 years old and still works perfectly. It’s as solid as the proverbial tank.
But why a typewriter? What the hell?
This is why: it’s basically a character in my newest novel. Or, for those familiar with Alfred Hitchcock’s terminology, it’s the “McGuffin” for the story.
Not to be confused with a “McMuffin” which is what my word processor’s spell checker keeps trying to change it to.
The fantasy, set in 1982, features a protagonist who is a typewriter repairman, and is fated to fulfill a part in the gods’ plan to fix a problem created years before.
Let me just leave it at that.
But, if I’m going to write about a Royal Quiet Deluxe, I need one in my hands. I need to know what it feels like, how heavy it is, what all the parts do, how to change the ribbon, how to set the margins, etc. So, in my mind at least, I needed the genuine article in my possession for the sake of the story.
But that purchase sent me going further down the nostalgia rabbit hole. You see, way before word processors I used to write on typewriters, and for the longest time I used the venerable old IBM Selectric. But even before that I had the typewriter my parents gave me for my 12th birthday, way back when I had first announced to them that I was going to be a novelist. And that was…
I thought, hey, if I can buy the Royal Quiet Deluxe, just for fun I should see if I could get my old original typewriter as well. Not the exact one, mind you, but one exactly like it. The actual make, model, year, and even banana yellow color. However, this turns out to be a rather rare typewriter, probably because it didn’t hold up that well.
Because, you know … plastic.
My search turned up nothing, but at the very least I did set up an automatic search on eBay, just in case one ever did turn up. And didn’t cost an arm and leg.
About three COVID-19 seclusion weeks trundled past, and suddenly I get this pop up message on my phone from the eBay app. “Hey, we found your typewriter.” (It didn’t say that, exactly, but that was the gist of the message.)
I looked at it. Amazed. It was exactly like my original typewriter. It was in pristine condition. And it did not cost an arm and a leg.
Boom. Sold. Bought it on the spot. (eBay is dangerous that way.)
This is a pure nostalgia purchase. I made sure it works (to my surprise it types nicer than the Royal Quiet Deluxe), but UPS was not kind to it during shipping, and I had to gingerly piece parts of it back together. Still, it works, and it’s mine, and now it sits next to the replica of my original Canon FTb camera.
So, guess what I did? I wrote it into the story as well. After all, the protagonist is a typewriter repairman, so why wouldn’t he have a Montgomery Ward Escort 55 typewriter sitting on his workbench?
As a bonus, that makes both of them a tax write off as well.
Well, there was some good news, relating to an earlier post. The tests came back negative and so nope, I do not have cancer raising its ugly head again.
To celebrate, I ate a ginormous hamburger with deep fried onion rings and a nice glass of beer. Out of all of it, the beer was probably the healthiest thing I ingested. But hey…
I enjoyed it.
In other news, I grabbed yet another Apple product to throw into the big hole in my life. My Apple credit card gave me $75 to spend at the Apple store, and my friends, there is nothing left at the Apple store I need. But I had to spend it on something, and there was nothing I even remotely wanted for only $75, so … I finally caved and got the Beats headphones I’ve been eyeing since they came out. And I’ll tell you this, they were way over $75.
Will I enjoy them? Yes. But do I need them? No. I have a perfectly good set of Bose headphones that I once bought on a whim at an automated kiosk at an airport. And I have a very nice set of LucidSound gamer headphones that I bought when I was trying to fill the hole in my life with gaming.
One thing I did buy recently, that has yet to arrive, and which I hope will actually help fill the hole in my life, is a spiritual book recommended by a local Buddhist center which I have secretly joined.
Why secretly? Because they have no idea I’ve joined them. I have yet to find the time to show up to introduce myself. So you can say I am a secret virtual member of that group.
I have studied a lot about Buddhism over the past several years, and the more I learn, the more I realize I’m already a Buddhist. I hope by actually officially joining a group of them, I’ll learn how to finally fill the hole in my life that I’ve been trying to fill with booze, sweets, hamburgers, video games, and expensive toys.
It would be nice to find a way to fill that hole before I finally spiral into oblivion.