Some Thoughts on Electronic Typewriter Alternatives

I uploaded a video today describing the usefulness of the AlphaSmart Neo, text-editor based keyboard device, as an alternative to the direct typewriter experience. This idea will come as no surprise to people who are already familiar with these paperless, electronic writing tools, but for others who aren't, this might come as a shock, even blasphemy. I offer no apologies, only my personal viewpoint to the contrary.



In the video, I explain my feelings as to the essence of what the writing-with-a-typewriter experience is all about, for me. To some, it might have to do with the pre-computer legacy of the typewriter, or to others it might be the mechanical, direct ink-to-paper aspect of typewriters. Those are all valid reasons to prefer typewriters to other forms of writing methods, ones to which I can heartily attest as an incurable typewriter fanatic.

But for the actual experience of writing using a typewriter, I find these three aspects most unique and attractive: 1) Non-distractive writing; 2) Mechanical interface; 3) Single-purpose use. There are other aspects of typewriters worth appreciating, but these three I feel capture in essence what many others, throughout the past decades, have expressed as their primary reason for preferring typewriters over other forms of writing.

It is helpful to remind ourselves that, for a long period of time, typewriters were the only form of mechanized writing accessible to the common person. Certainly by the 1960s there were a handful of writers who gained access, through special circumstances, to word processor programs hosted on mainframes or mini-computers; but it wasn't until the mid- to late-1970s that the personal computer platform became sufficiently capable and affordable for access by the mainstream public as a writing device. Once that happened, writing technology was quickly transformed.

Interestingly, we really didn't hear much about computer-based word processors being a distraction to the writing experience until personal computer platforms became sufficiently capable to host other, more distractive, features such as games and the Internet. This has become most notable since the advent of widely available wireless Internet accessibility.

I'd like to argue in favor of mechanical keyboards connected to distraction-free text entry systems as being essentially typewriter-like. Broadly speaking, if a computing platform, dedicated to a word processor or text-entry program, is not typewriter-like, then electric typewriters shouldn't be considered as typewriters either. An early personal computer, lacking distractive software other than a few 8-bit graphic games, and connected to a mechanical-feeling keyboard and line printer, is essentially an electric typewriter in function, that lacks the compactness of a predecessor technology such as the IBM Selectric, whose components fit all in one package instead of scattered over the work surface of a desk. Was an early word processor computer overly complex? Yes, certainly. Ungainly? Yes, without doubt. Non-portable? Other than the Osborne luggable computers and their ilk (which lacked a built-in printer), yes. But were they functionally like electric typewriters? Certainly; and would also permit text editing.

By the time we get to the 1980s and the daisy-wheel electric typewriter, some of which offered limited text editing via a single-line LCD screen and memory buffer, we have what is essentially the mess of an early word processor personal computer, keyboard and printer, that would have otherwise covered the entire working surface of an office desk, all jammed into one small enclosure; light and small enough to lug around, but still requiring to be plugged into an electric outlet to function.

So, I think it's fair to say that electric typewriters, though different in some respects to manuals, deliver a genuine typewriter writing experience; and I will also argue that any technology that delivers a sufficient similarity of writing experience should be considered electric typewriter-like.

I know what you skeptics are thinking, this guy's trying to use convoluted logic to convince himself that computers are typewriters and therefore should be considered the same. Actually, no. I've written with both typewriters and computers, as have many of you. Computers are fine for final polish of a document; and considering that there are few publishers left who will accept manuscripts in typescript form on paper, a writer has little option but to, at some point in the writing process, employ that demon computer.

But few of us are writers; fewer still are published. Yet what's most important in those crucial early stages of the writing process is to employ tools that reduce distraction and focus the writer to the task at hand. Non-distractive systems, in whatever form they be, are often preferred. Does that mean all professional writers use non-distractive systems like typewriters in some part of their writing process? Probably not; I'd wager that many writers whose output is measured in several books per year have disciplined themselves to using computers as their preferred writing tool, without falling into the pitfalls that computers can offer, simply for the efficiency of the word processor. It's a matter of discipline and focus. For the professional, it's their livelihood at stake; of course they'd be able to figure out how not to be tempted by Instagram, Twitter and YouTube cat videos.

For a person like me, a typewriter fanatic and also fledgling, amateur writer, I find advantage to both typewriter and word processor. It's the foibles of the computer platform that host most word processor applications that gets me. For many of us, we've found devices like the AlphaSmart text editing keyboards to be almost ideally suited to that early writing phase, due to its non-distractive nature, portability, excellent feeling keyboard and world-class battery life. We should remind ourselves that even 1980s-era, line-editing, electric daisywheel typewriters had within their innards some form of micro-processor. Certainly the AlphaSmarts do, too. So I think it's fair to say that computers, in the most broad application of that term, are not intrinsically writer-unfriendly. Rather, it's the crudeness of general-purpose computer operating systems that draws the ire of typewriter aficionados like myself and others.

It would be nice if devices like the AlphaSmart Neo were still being manufactured, but they aren't. I purchased mine in 2010, for under $100. At that time, laptop computers with all their distraction were selling for around ten times that amount. Today, a person looking for a dedicated electronic writing experience that offers a text file output has few alternatives. One such alternative is to purchase a used Neo online, and risk receiving someone's broken device with no factory support, other than software uploads from Renaissance Learning. Another alternative is the Hemingwriter device, but it, though costly, is less capable than an AlphaSmart, as it lacks text edit capability. A third option is someone on Etsy selling what he calls a Write-O-Tron, an Arduino-based dedicated word processing system built into a wooden cigar box, that costs about the same as the Hemingwriter.

I would like to propose another alternative, one that lacks some of the advantages of the AlphaSmarts but does offer a distraction-free writing experience (with one cavaet) and an excellent-feeling, truely mechanical keyboard. That is to pair a true mechanical keyboard with a small iOS tablet device like an iPad Mini or, better yet, iPod Touch.

I'm working on building such a system. This piece was written with the first iteration, that being a full-sized desktop computer keyboard (one I had laying around in storage) paired with an old iPad 2 sporting the IAWriter app. I'm going to be replacing this large keyboard with a so-called "60%" mechanical keyboard (that should be arriving this week), and the iPod Touch I've already been using for editing photos and videos.

If you had to purchase this system new (I already had the iPad 2 and old desktop keyboard, so their cost was essentially free), you'd spend about $250 for a 32GB iPod Touch and about $100 for a true mechanical keyboard (or a lot less for a larger, standard desktop keyboard); still somewhat less than either the Hemingwriter or Write-O-Tron, but with much more capability. Or maybe you already have an iPhone; all you need is the mechanical keyboard, and the discipline to put it into "airplane" mode for a few hours (the secret to non-distractive writing on iOS devices).

Yes, you can get Bluetooth wireless keyboards for iOS devices; but these lack the feel of a true mechanical keyboard (remember that typewriter-like writing experience we're after?) and being wireless means they'll end up sucking the battery life out of your iOS device. Keep your iOS device in "airplane" mode and the Bluetooth turned off and its battery will last for many hours, sufficient to get your writing done for the day. And using a smaller, "60%" keyboard means full-sized mechanical keys in a much smaller, more portable package.

An AlphaSmart Neo isn't a replacement for a true typewriter, because direct mechanical type to paper is an experience unique unto itself. I'll never get rid of my typewriter collection (though its numbers might fluxuate up or down over the years); likewise, I hope to have my Neo for many years into the future, because it's such an excellent portable first-draft writing tool. But being electronic, and no longer manufactured or supported, means I need to find some kind of functional alternative. I think a mechanical keyboard mated to an iOS tablet device might be that alternative. I'll keep you posted on my findings.

Compact, Colorful Computer Keyboard Craziness

I'm doing this crazy techno-mashup that's not supposed to work, and that's likely to infuriate both the digerati and the Typosphere, which is to plug a standard USB-wired PC keyboard - one of those wide decks that's about the size of a miniature skateboard, minus the wheels and trucks, that has the function keys and ten-key-pad off to the right, so far off to the right that if you were using a mouse with your right hand your right elbow would be in the next county, and you'd certainly be showing signs of carpel tunnel - into my little iPod Touch, via its standard USB adapter.

No, it's not one of those sleek, Apple-looking wireless keyboards with those rubbery chicklet keys, that advertises you're somewhere in the 21st century; no sir, this is one of those clacky desktop keyboards that shouts "1980." Actually, it's not that cool; just a standard HP keyboard from the last decade. But where to mount the tiny iPod Touch so as to make this a practical writing rig?

My wife, smart as she is, immediately knew the solution, which was to employ the lap desk. So now I'm seated in the backyard, under our big tree, on a cloudy, late Summer's day, with this big keyboard and the tiny Joby Gorilla Pod holding the dinky iPod Touch. At least the black-and-white theme of the HP keyboard matches the tripod's. Not that fashion statements matter at this late date.

This little iPod has a very small battery, smaller than an iPhone's, so battery life is an issue. When I'm not actually needing to be connected to WiFi I set it to airplane mode; and now with this wired keyboard I also don't need to be wasting more battery juice with blue tooth turned on.

How I found out about using a standard USB keyboard on an iOS device is because I was on one of those Internet fixations the other day, researching so-called "60%" mechanical keyboards, and came across a keyboard discussion forum (you knew there'd be such a thing, right?) where this was mentioned.

I have this hate/hate relationship with full-sized keyboards, the ones with 110 or so keys and all those extra keys off to the right; that, if you're a touch-typist like me, with your fingers on the home row, your hands are centered about 1/3 of the way over from the left side of the keyboard. Which is an issue with certain workstation setups, like just about every one in the factory where I work, that equip each station with just enough room for one of these wide behemoths, and position the monitor over the middle of the thing, so that us touch-typists can't have the alphanumeric keys and monitor centered in front of them; and also us right-handed mouse users are relegated to a very non-ergonomic position. I've taken to mousing left-handed while at work, just to take the strain off my right shoulder and wrist.

I don't use those ten-key-pads off to the right; I never worked in a grocery store as a clerk, back in the days before barcode scanners, when the clerks would pick up the can of beans out of your cart with one hand, read the price on the little sticky paper label and, without looking, key in the price on the cash register with the other hand. I remember in high school the math department had classes that taught students how to be fluent in touch entry on adding machines and cash registers and such. It would be only a decade or two after that and such skills would be entirely obsolete.

The desk in my office is one of those big cherrywood colored, Scandinavian-styled corner units. You'd think I'd have plenty of room, but with all the clutter I like to accumulate, such as scanner, printer and a plethora of books and papers, a full-sized keyboard is kind of a nuisance. There's also a typewriter on the desk, but that doesn't count as clutter, of course. What I really want is a smaller keyboard.

A practical person would go down to the nearest big-box retailer and pick up for cheap a medium-sized keyboard, one without the ten-key-pad off to the right, but one that still has the top row of function keys and the navigation keys on the right. But I'm not a practical person; especially after I discovered so-called "60%" keyboards, ones that only have the alphanumeric keys and the few additional ones immediately adjacent, no function or navigation keys; instead, they use a program key that accesses three other key mapping layers.

These tiny keyboards seem to be popular with geeks who like to attend gaming conferences and don't want to travel with their full-sized keyboards, that are as big as their skateboards. Also, there's this popular fascination with mechanical keyboards, that I suspect any typewriter fanatic could appreciate, much like the way a film photographer can appreciate Fuji digital cameras that appear somewhat film-camera-like.

While IBM model-M keyboards enjoy a legacy of being the standard in mechanical keyboards, the big name in mechanical keyboard switches these days has been Cherry, and they have a full line of such switches, each with a different kind of feel (detent or linear, with a variety of force settings), that are identified by color. Cherry Blue switches are the most clicky feeling, and the loudest, with the Cherry Browns being more subtle, followed by the Cherry Clear switches. Since keyboard touch, as any typewriter fanatic can tell you, is such a personal thing, buying into such an exotic keyboard should not be done without first a bit of research. Luckily, there are sample switches you can buy. I just ordered, from Wasd Keyboards, a 6-key Cherry sampler, that I hope will give me more information before I embark down the road of acquiring a custom mechanical keyboard to my liking.

There is also, as with any technological field of interest, more exotic keyboards and switches. Some of these Japanese magnetic reed switch keyboards have attracted interest, like the way that denizens of local coffee shops like to denigrate Starbucks as being "so corporate." The more exotic the better, like small lines of exotic Japanese denim jeans, ones that are so pricey that you can't afford to wash them. There's also an interest in legacy keyboards by many young folks, with pre-PC mainframe keyboards and early Apple models in high demand.

Stylistically, I'm somewhat attracted to the control consoles of nuclear command centers and other military computer systems, like what you'd see in the film "War Games," or what we saw, earlier this year, when we visited the Titan II Missile Museum, south of Tucson, Arizona. "Don't press the red key, that launches the missile." It would be so cool to have a keyboard with a red key that said "Launch," or maybe "Apocalypse Now."

I'll probably buy my keyboard from Wasd, because they offer this spectacularly personalizable 61-key keyboard where you can choose the color of each key - yes, think about that for a second: each key can be customized with whatever color you choose, even artwork - along with your choice of labels. They have a Flickr account where you can view, in jaw-dropping color schemes, all the hundreds of custom keyboards they've fashioned for customers.

Some of these color schemes directly remind me of the pre-Personal Computer era, when mainframes were controlled by these colorful banks of switches. Certainly, some of the designs are a bit too much, like alternating the color of every other key, just to be different; but other color schemes seem simultaneously practical and beautiful.



I was seated at this same spot in the backyard yesterday, typing on my robins egg-blue Webster XL-747 typewriter, with white keys, bold black labels and the red tab and repeat spacer keys, when it struck me that this would make a dandy color scheme for a custom keyboard. I'm thinking the letter keys would be white with large, black labels centered on the keys; the number row would be robins egg blue and the surrounding keys (control, shift, caps, tab, escape, enter, backspace) would be bright red. Not red, white and blue for patriotic reasons, but in honor of this wonderfully pretty typewriter from the 1970s.

I must not be alone in my appreciation of the color schemes of manual typewriter keys, because I also saw a photo of an all-green 60% keyboard, inspired by the Hermes 2000/3000 line of typewriters.

This fascinates me, that manual typewriters could serve as design inspiration for modern-day, tech-savvy computer geeks and gamers; people who are decidedly not part of the Typosphere and typewriter blogging community. Sometimes you have to step outside of your own cultural community to see the wider picture of how much typewriters have inspired and informed the culture at large.

Which reminds me, on a side note, that I walked into a Goodwill store about ten minutes after someone found an Olympus SM-3, in burgundy trim, for $5. She was kind enough to let me take a peek inside that wonderfully round carrying case, but I couldn't talk her out of her intended purchase. Which is fine, since I have 11 typewriters, and this will be her first. Spread the wealth. But still, such a nice machine for five bucks. It boggles the mind, thinking about all those potential great bargains I've missed by not being on constant patrol of the thrift stores. Best not to think of it, since I've been reminded repeatedly, by She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed, that I have enough typewriters for now. Uh huh.

This combination of clacky keyboard and iPod Touch reminds me so much of the Alphasmart line of word processing keyboards. I've visited their Flickr site many times, and read many of the discussion threads, but can't recall mention of this easy way to simulate an Alphasmart system with an iOS device and standard USB keyboard.

I'm thinking that another way to incorporate a miniature 61-key keyboard, in a personalized color scheme, with an iOS device would be to build some little bracket device that attaches the iPod Touch right behind the keyboard, elevated at a convenient viewing angle.

Oh, did I mention that there are also wooden (yes, wooden - think exotic tropical hardwood) holders for these mechanical keyboards? It boggles the mind, and possibly the checkbook, too.

Here's the link to the Wasd Flickr site, where you can drool over all those wonderfully colorful keyboards.

Someone should immediate comment this blog article and try to stop me from acquiring a custom-designed keyboard. Or, better yet, convince me with an even better argument in favor.

Typewriters and Word Processors

Typewriter Video Series Episode 23: Typewriters and Word Processors


(1)The Atlantic article
(2)Track Changes by Matthew Kirschenbaum


"Paperwork Explosion" by Jim Henson



Post-Script: Here are links to several past episodes of the Typewriter Video Series that I might not have mentioned herein.

Episode 20:


Episode 21:


Episode 22:


Should you be interested in photography and video, there are also newer videos on those subjects as well. Thank you for your readership.

Typecast via (appropriately enough) Smith-Corona Coronet Automatic 12.

Jitters the Coronet, or Calligraphy with a Jackhammer

Post-Script: These hybrid typewriters are very interesting, for they serve to remind us of the best and worst things about manual typewriters. I have a Galaxy 12 very much like this electrified Coronet and of the same era, and while I'd consider the Galaxy as a medium sized typer, it still has all the attributes of what I like about manual machines, which is their relative quietness, and the subtle, personal, direct nature of their operation.


The electric Coronet and manual Galaxy 12, side-by-side

I can carry the Galaxy 12 virtually anywhere (its weight is not that bad, even in its case), set it up and be typing away, no electricity needed. In comparison, not only is the Coronet needing a power source, but it gets rather warm with just its motor idling. Then there's the BAM-BAM-BAM of each letter, and the KERTHWACK of the power return, reminding you - and anyone else in the vicinity - that this isn't some subtle, private writing going on. This is like calligraphy with a jackhammer. And did I mention its weight?

With a manual typewriter, one gets that analog experience, like how the quality of experience in driving a stick shift is dependent on one's feel for the clutch. With a manual typewriter, there's an infinite range of intermediate levels of force and speed one can apply to the keys. It's subtle and very personal, even with the largest machine. You feel as if your fingers are directly connected to the type slugs, which they literally are, mechanically speaking.

You don't begin to appreciate this until you try on one of these hybrid electrified manuals, like this here Coronet. The keys are Boolean: OFF/ON - BAM! No intermediate analog grayness here. Even when idle, the thing sits there and hums - HUMS! As if to remind you that every second counts, every second you spend not typing is wasted electricity and wear on the internal parts; that if you have something to say, just say it, don't beat around the bush. Shyte or get off the pot. You can't easily do first-draft writing on these machines, I feel. They're too impatient, like how dare I wake them up, just for me to sit here and think. Thinking should be done elsewhere. We have no time for thinking. This here's a tool for Captains of Industry, not beret-clad writers, smoking their Gallouis.



Yes, I'll admit that this Coronet makes a nice, dark impression on paper every time. And I'm a sucker for machines that make dark imprints. And it's fast. It'll go as fast as I can accurately touch-type, with hardly a glitch. But what's most awesome about this machine and others like it is that it really represents the first step away from manual typewriters and toward the computer; you can sense it. It's a genetic hybrid, like the very first proto-land animal that crawled out of the ocean onto some ancient beach, with its subtly enhanced fins. It's not there yet, but you can see where it's going. The Boolean nature of the keys is already present at the outset; it's power-hungry and demands to be tethered to some infrastructure; and it's already become a bit impersonal, just like the damned computer.

If you want to regain your lost love for even the lowliest manual typewriter in your collection, get one of these hybrid electrics and keep it around, just to remind yourself how nice a manual writing machine can be.