Typewriters, Files, and New Spaces.

Although I have yet to start building a typewriter collection of my own (I have my eye on a couple I found in some antique shops in East Texas), I still love the beauty of the typewriter. I still remember using the large olive green typewriter that my mother inherited from my grandfather. I loved to just run my index finger around the rim of each keys, feeling the coolness and smoothness of them. The tell-tale "clack clack clack...ding!", more like a song than the finishing of a sentence. Since the holiday seasons are over, I WILL find room in my trunk when I go back home to Alabama this summer for my grandfather's typewriter to come back to Shreveport with me.

In the meantime, this article from Flavorwire titled Famous Authors and their Typewriters whet my appetite this morning. I love seeing photographs of "artists" at their craft.

Another great article I found this morning is featured in the Nervous Breakdown written by Ronlyn Domingue. She is the author of The Mercy of Thin Air, which is a MUST READ! Today's article is titled Burning Fate of a Writer's Archive. In this, she ponders what to do with her used notes and what famous writers in the past have done with theirs. After reading The Paris Wife by Paula McLain and discovering the drama between Ernest Hemmingway and his first wife Hadley after she loses all of his manuscripts and notes on a train, I wonder as well, the importance of a writer's notes. I admit that I am very mysterious when it comes to my fiction and try not to "let loose" any of the intricate details of my ideas almost as if I were keeping super secret information from "getting into the wrong hands." Surely I have a short story on file that could cause mass panic or total government shut down...

On another note, I have spent the weekend hauling out what used to be my "office/junk room/craft room/artist studio/and a few things in-between". Pulling a table from the dining room, a wobbly end table for my printer, a Tiffany-style lamp that needs rewiring, and a bucket full of pens and paper clips, I now have a new writing space. The walls shall be plum pudding from Martha Stewart's line of paint and I have acquired a cute little ceiling fan called Metairie. If I can't live in New Orleans, I shall endeavor to bring New Orleans to me.