Rules For Tools - Wendell Berry

I'm thinking again about tools as I read of Apple and Samsung releasing new products. I spent an hour this afternoon typing on a 1938 Corona Sterling which is still the most beautiful and wondrous machine I've ever seen. All this has me thinking of Wendell Berry's rules for new tools which, rather than summarizing, I quote here in full:

1. The new tool should be cheaper than the one it replaces.
2. It should be at least as small in scale as the one it replaces.
3. It should do work that is clearly and demonstrably better than the one it replaces.
4. It should use less energy than the one it replaces.
5. If possible, it should use some form of solar energy, such as that of the body.
6. It should be repairable by a person of ordinary intelligence, provided that he or she has the necessary tools.
7. It should be purchasable and repairable as near to home as possible.
8. It should come from a small, privately-owned shop or store that will take it back for maintenance or repair.
9. It should not replace or disrupt anything good that already exists, and this includes family and community relationships.

If I live my life by those rules, I'm living well.

Let's Not Forget The Fun

I wrote 500 words kind of about the Astrohaus Freewrite Traveler, a device that emulates the best of a typewriter (distraction-free writing, no real editing, no online connections). The piece was a continuation of some discussion I had with the guy who makes Writer: The Internet Typewriter which is the best distraction free writing tool online. I like the Traveler but it's expensive and needs a better editor, one like Writer. These aren't the only reasons I'm not buying one, but they are up there.

Here's the thing: the 500 words I wrote were done on my 1938 Corona Sterling manual typewriter that I had restored at Mohawk Typewriter. Typing with a great manual typewriter with a blue ribbon onto blue copy paper is simple and wondrous joy.

The piece I wrote would have to be retyped on the computer or scanned and fed into an OCR program in order to be shared online. Instead, it's a sheet of single-spaced typing sitting next to me here as I type this. It is mine and mine alone. It will likely stay that way. What an odd and lovely concept.

I wrote those 500 words for no other reason than I wanted to think through some ideas on the page. I think best in written word and I'm happiest when words are appearing on the page at the touch of my fingers. These words on the screen are good (especially because I'm typing them in Writer), but it's nothing like the pleasure of the typewriter or the smooth movement of a fountain pen over the page. That's the good stuff.

My work now is to find ways to move forward as a writer, maybe to make some money doing this work. Still, there's nothing better than enjoying the work, savoring the process, and loving the mechanics of making words on the page. When I'm forgetting those basics, I return to the typewriter and produce an artifact that is clear evidence of joy and reminds me what this is all about. And I write on.

Analog FTW

Ignore that I typed this on a Chromebook. Just go with it for now.

This video about Saturday Night Live's cue cards is lovely in every way but especially because the show runs on about a thousand analog cards a week, filled with block letters in big old magic marker, and edited using white tape. How great is that? They don't use teleprompters because those break and the show is live. Analog cards are forever — until they use them as drop cloths for set painting. Go figure.

On my desk is a Smith Corona Sterling manual typewriter manufactured in 1938 here in my hometown of Syracuse, NY (from which many good things come). I've inserted a ribbon with blue ink and the print is as gorgeous as the machine itself. Later, I'll type toward a project I'm struggling with on the computer. Blue ink on yellow copy paper rolled through an analog machine. Think how long that machine has been in service. Come on, do the math. Alright, since you can't find the calculator app on your phone, it's about eighty one years. Eighty one freaking years. My laptop won't make it eight years.

I had the typewriter serviced shortly after I bought it to replace the rubber roller (platen), align the keys, and fix a couple things. I asked the repair guy when he thought I'd be back. He made a snorting noise in the back of his throat and shook his head. "My only repeat customers are ones who buy more than one typewriter. This thing will go on forever." I'll bring him my other typewriter just because I want it perfect and guys like that deserve medals or at least some more business.

Look, there's my paper planner, its cover papered with post-its. I just filled the page for this week with notes and ideas and they'll be there forever. At the dentist I flipped it open to schedule a cleaning in July. On my phone, I put in the wrong times (PM instead of AM) and once scheduled a seventy-two-hour therapy appointment. I'm not saying I wouldn't benefit from such a thing, but there's only so much my therapist can endure. The planner limits us to an hour every other week and has never crashed, cracked, or run out of battery. Crazy.

And there's my Lamy 2000 fountain pen which I refilled this morning from a three-ounce bottle of blue Noodler's ink and which writes like a dream. Designed in 1966, it is sumptuous enough to be on display in art and design museums. There's a rumor that it is part of MoMA's permanent collection — and it damn well should be — but though that rumor was on the internet (quoted, I think, on Abraham Lincoln's blog) it turns out not to be the true. Still, as Ferris Bueller said (about a Ferrari instead of something as important as a fountain pen), "if you have the means, I highly recommend picking one up."

A couple other things:

• I'm reading Dani Shapiro's Devotion in hardback with real pages and ink. It feels right in my hands and before my eyes. People ask me about books I carry. They spark conversations.

• Sufjan Stevens' album Carrie & Lowell is on my U-Turn Audio Orbit turntable, its signal amplified by the Kenwood KA-5500 that has worked since the 1977 and will go on probably through 2077. That's all wired to Boston Acoustics A70 speakers I bought at Gordon Electronics on Erie Boulevard in 1982. Come on over. I'll pour whiskey and we'll put on your favorite record. It will be great.

• Today I carried and read the January issue of The Sun Magazine which includes Debbie Urbanski's story "You" which is so exquisite I've read it three times, the feel of the page between my fingers like a character in the story.

I have more to say about analog things — maybe a book's worth — but I'm okay with having written this on a computer. (I am large, I contain multitudes.)

Writing Dependence

There are too many things in life on which I can't depend. The honesty of Republicans, the ability of Democrats to win, WiFi signal, weather, a well managed school, the stock market, and on and on. When it comes to writing, something on which I almost completely depend, I make sure very little stands in the way. I choose my tools carefully.

I learned that typing the doc.new into a browser brings up a blank Google Doc. That's pretty useful. I wish there was some single keyboard command to get rid of all the toolbars and put the browserin full-screen like a minimalist word processor but no dice so far.

For minimalism, I use Writer: The Internet Typewriter, a blank interface with no distracting means of formatting. It is the best editor I know and I've tried dozens. Dropbox Paper is beautiful, but still no match for Writer, a solitary writer's dream.

Were I in the mood to spend and wait until June, I'd order the Freewrite Traveler, a nifty device only for writing. Pretty cool but pretty expensive and close enough to the experience I already have on my manual typewriters.

Here's the thing: when it comes to dependability, there's no beating a good pen and some paper. I use a fountain pen and used copy paper on which I print lines. These things just work. There are nearly always pen and paper on hand. Paper is resilient. There's no question whether it will be in a readable format for the next software revision, no worries about saving documents, and it can be used sideways, upside down, or any which way.

There are too few things on which I can depend. My laptop is probably dying and no longer receives updates. My pen is older than the laptop goes on and on so long as I refill it with ink every other day. And I have enough paper to last me, as Red says in Shawshank Redemption until rapture.

Rapture, that's kind of how it feels to write with a fountain pen on lined paper. I depend on that, on the words I write, and the salvation of writing.