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Sometimes I think that the one thing I need in my life is a vintage typewriter to work on. The concept is so romantic. The ringing of the keys. The fresh ink as it hits the paper. All while sitting at a desk next to the window that overlooks a hazy, summery field. [I don't know why but that setting is always what I envision.] Maybe if I had an old typewriter it would inspire me to finally finish one of the many novels or screenplays I've started over the years. Then reality sets in I remember how many spelling errors I make when typing, how many times I change my mind on a sentences format. I think I'd use up the world supply of paper, not to mention my patience.
No, I think for story writing I shall stick to my trusty laptop. Still though, it would be nice to have a typewriter to play around with. Perhaps write some letters and notes.
[Those of you looking for a late birthday or early christmas present for me take note.]
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