How I found my inspiration
It found me. I was around 15 years old and for reasons I can’t recall we got an electric typewriter. A Smith Corona. With correcting tape, even. Beautiful thing. This was in the mid-1980s. Electric typewriters were cool back then, I swear.
I’d already gotten used to computers. I’d worked with Apple machines at school and I owned a Commodore 64. Best gadget ever, that. But computers in those days weren’t for writing. They were for programming and video game playing. Both activities I enjoyed. They were fun, but not a calling.
That electric typewriter touched me. It said my name. It sat on a desk and I knew it wanted me to write.
I didn’t know why. I still don’t. But it did. It took me more than 30 years to heed that call with all I’ve got, after trying to resist it but not very successfully. Nowadays I work on a Surface Pro 3, which corrects mistakes pretty well but isn’t as cool as my old Smith Corona. I like to think it would be proud of me if it could see me now.