The past has always fascinated me — whether through reading history books, visiting historical sites or collecting all sorts of antiques. To me, the past is an exotic place, filled to the brim with diverse and intriguing eras that captivate my curious mind.
This passion for history has led me to amass a significant collection of vintage items over the years. I own an assortment of mechanical pocket watches — the oldest dates back to 1896 and still runs in good condition. I also collect glassware and mugs in all shapes and sizes, along with old books, paintings and navigational charts from nearly a century ago. These are my treasure trove — possessions that allow me to interact with history, to study it in greater detail and view it from a more distinct perspective.
But the most cherished items in my collection are my typewriters.
At the time of writing, I own four typewriters, three of which are in good working order. They vary in brand, size and age. The oldest is my Underwood No. 3, manufactured in October 1916. Next is my Royal De Luxe portable typewriter, made in 1938. Then comes the Smith-Corona Silent-Super from 1956. The “newest” of the bunch is a Smith-Corona Corsair ultraportable from the 1970s.
Underwood 3.
This collection is relatively recent—I only began collecting in mid-2023. It all started after I watched a documentary called California Typewriter. It’s more than your average documentary — it’s essentially a love letter to these wonderful writing machines. I was amazed to see Tom Hanks make an appearance — and even more amazed to learn that he’s an avid typewriter collector as well.
After watching, I was convinced I needed to have one for myself. I felt it would improve my writing experience.
At first, I assumed it would be just another passing interest and that I’d soon move on to other antiques. But that wasn’t the case. As soon as I received my first typewriter, I poured myself into hours of writing. The clacking of the typebars striking the paper sounded like music to my ears. The bell that rang at the end of each line felt like an auditory reward. And the tactile response of the keys was a completely unique and gratifying feeling — one I had never experienced on a computer keyboard.
All of this combined to create a perfect symphony — a symphony of my writing process. With the typewriter, I can instantly see my words imprinted on the page. It’s tangible. It’s real. It’s right there before my eyes. And I have with me a physical copy of my creative endeavors — a master copy I can always return to when I want to revisit an original idea.
Now, a great majority of my written works begin life on one of my typewriters. I draft them there, then examine each page carefully, adding or removing parts during the revision process. For me, the typewriter is an excellent tool for drafting. It helps me write without distractions — unlike my computer or phone.
Some people have pointed out that I’ll inevitably make errors while typing on a typewriter. But I don’t see a problem. The typewriter is my tool for writing drafts, personal letters or journal entries. Its purpose is to let me confidently type out my thoughts, separating me from the temptation to edit as I go. The typewriter doesn’t care. It doesn’t judge or distract me with red lines and blinking cursors. It simply obeys my keystrokes.
Royal De Luxe.
And besides, why should I care about a few mistakes? I’m the only one who sees my drafts.
With a mechanical contraption like this, there’s not much room for procrastination. It’s a single-purpose machine. Maybe this is just my own eccentric way of writing, but I’ve come to love not just the result, but the process itself.
Other writers have their own unique preferences — some use fountain pens, others dip pens, and many rely on computers with all their convenience. But for me, the typewriter will always be the first step in my writing journey — from simple letters to complex stories. I owe part of my continued success as a writer to these machines.
