I’m often asked how I write books in such a relatively quick period of time. Don’t get me wrong, I am no Danielle Steele or Seuss, but I can easily crank out a 300 page first draft in three months (Monday to Thursday, 10-4). I answer honestly: I type fast. Real fast. About 60-70 words per minute, or as quick as I can think.
My typing speed is something I have noticed again, since I began writing on this typewriter once a week. It is noticeably slower, for obvious reasons. The keys are less sensitive, and the range of motion and force of the fingers required to actually strike the ribbon and make an impression is formidable. You gotta really slam those keys to get that satisfying thwack. You feel it and hear it when you do, and immediately notice its absence when you don’t. I still type fast, but nowhere near as quick as on my laptop, where the words spill out without barrier or sound.
Typing was a fluke for me. Because I went to a French elementary school here in Toronto, I was allowed to skip 9th grade French, and had a free period to do either badminton or typing. So I spent a glorious year in the typing lab with the perfectly sarcastic Mr. Spencely (the Spence), and the rhythmic sounds of Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing, the preferred typing program of the Toronto District School Board.
The whole thing was based on a song with an anagram of the keys:
Quick Ask Zoe. What Stops X-Rays. Even Dogs Can’t. Red Fish Vanish…
You get the idea.
It made no sense, in fact it was utter nonsense, but over months of repeated listening, and endless typing races (and spinning races in the office chairs) the keys and our brains were one.
I cannot imagine my career as a writer if I didn’t take that class. I would be slower, and less productive. My books would take six or seven months to write, as I hunted and pecked around the keyboard, unsure where Zoe or the Fish lay.
But maybe that would have been a good thing. My biggest fault as a writer is my ability to rush things. When I think back to the other subjects I took that year, it’s the English class of Mrs. Bird that stands out, as she admonished us to take our time reading Twelfth Night and The Chrysalids, and to write slower so we could think. Hopefully the typewriter takes me down a gear or two. Speed is the enemy of creativity. No matter how well you can bang out letters.
* I’ll be off on a few trips during the next two weeks, so expect less regular emails. You’re welcome!