I published some short fiction back in the early 90s, but since that time I've been a journalist.
I've been wanting to return to fiction, but my attempts at doing so haven't been successful, from the standpoint of quality.
But I remembered that my first stories were written on a manual typewriter. I remembered there was something about the machine that jogged my imagination. A typewriter doesn't hum, or blind you with cathode rays. And, besides it's hum and glow, words on a computer don't seem real to me. It's like seeing words on television; somehow they're not real. But a typewriter is black on white, and it forces you to keep going. No doubling back.
So, I've been looking around for an old portable in working condition.
Yesterday, I pulled off the road to check out a garage sale; and--I'm not kidding--there was an immaculate Olympia SM-9 sitting on table beside four bent Nash hubcaps! The Olympia cost me only $2. It's mint, not even dusty.
So, the muse calls. I now have a window into the reality of writing fiction. Perhaps the typewriter will change my luck.
