In Praise of Older Technology

First of all, let’s be clear: I would not give up my laptop. Not ever. Nor my air conditioner. And indoor plumbing rocks.

That said, I’m here to sing the praise of older technology. While the modern PC is a wonderful tool, it has its problems (mostly user error, in my case), distractions (again with the user error), and detractions.

Here’s the things: I usually can’t write a first draft on a computer. There have been times when I did, or course, and all my later drafting and editing happens on the computer. But that first draft. It happens with these:

I find working with the pen and paper freeing. Somehow, I’m better able to sort my thoughts when I work in the notebook, creating what is in essence a clean third-draft before I ever start transcribing. I find the sound of the nib running over the paper soothing, even meditative. Because I think and write at about the same speed, the process seems soother. I don’t worry about misspelled words the way I do typographical errors. I can just blow on past them and keep working. My internal editor shuts up.

As for where I like to work, I’ve found coffee houses the best (the low rumble of voices provides good white noise and the coffee is typically better than I make at home even with my basic and simple French press), hotel rooms when I travel (it gets me away from the responsibilities of home-life and allows me to relax into the writing), with my kitchen table while wearing earphones a solid third. Again, later drafts and editing happen at the desk, but for some reason I find myself constrained and unable to work on the first draft when I’m at my “real working area.” I admit that I belong to the straying, rather than to the sedentary, type of author.

Another place I like to work, at least in my head, is while I’m shaving. Here again I sing the praises of older technology. Modern shaving involves spraying shaving cream-like stuff from a can and using razors with so many blades you have to wonder what they all do (one to lift, one to cut, three to grind the stubble into and under your skin). This is how I shave:

It is a slow and thoughtful way to shave. You have to take you time, prepare everything right, and then respect the blade. I’ve gotten to the point where this too is meditative, and when I am whipping up the shaving soap or slowly working the razor across my skin, my mind now turns to working on the story problem at hand.

Lather your face and allow the problem with your draft to spread out in the mind’s eye. As the razor takes the beard comes off, so do the plot problems fall away. Clean the blade, find clarity. Wash the last of the soap away while answers clicks in your head. As you apply the aftershave lotion, you know what to do, you can’t wait to open the notebook and set pen to paper.

I think we’ve allowed technology to push us to work too fast, to get the job done without being thoughtful about what it is we are doing. Modern tech tries to get us to move ever faster, to be ever more “efficient.” We all hear The Big Clock of Life ticking away (which reminds me: buy a real honest old fashioned wind-up watch – winding a watch is a soothing thing) and we seem to think the thing to do is run ever harder in an attempt to Get It All In Before The End.

The thing is, you can’t get it all in before the end. Really, you can’t. And while efficiency is fine, it is not the end all be all. Yes, sometimes the work happens in the white hot blaze of the moment and it is glorious. This is not a state that can be sustained on a constant basis without burn-out and exhausting taking their toll.

Sometimes we need to slow down, be deliberate and intentional in what we do, whether it be writing, shaving, or living.