I'm exhausted. That good kind of exhaustion that comes from laughter, common interests, brain overloads, and of course witnessing firsthand machines that were previously not known to be in existence. Or that people had not seen in decades.
As a writer, there is a certain romantic notion associated with typewriters. All of my writing heroes used typewriters. They are a tool. But they were so much more than than. They were the conduit by which those amazing minds gave birth to the words that inspired me and those like me to finally come to grips with the fact that writing is more than something we do, it's something we are.
And this weekend was all about being in a place where those magical machines are revered.
It's interesting though. This meet up is made up of some writers, but by and large the people that are here are here because they love the machines. There is a beauty that I can't quite describe. They are feats of engineering. And this weekend I have seen prototypes. I have heard talks from authors who are the premiere authorities about typewriters.
The opportunity was amazing. And the only requirement to attend was that you have a love or at least an interest in typewriters (or be the traveling companion of someone who does). I met giants in the typewriter collecting field. And I met masters of repair and restoration (who live in Ohio).
It's another tribe.
I posted pix on Instagram and Facebook so I'm not going to do so again here, but I took many. Machines that I was interested in. Machines I had never seen. All fascinating to me.
My brain still has so much to process. And of course there is the story of the Hermes Rocket that looked poised for a bright shiny orbit, but wound up actually faltering on the launch pad.
More on that later. Don't worry, I think that it will have a happy ending. We'll see.
Right now I'm tired. And tomorrow is a day of mostly driving back to Ohio from West Virginia. Yes, my friends, the Typewriter Heaven is roughly 4 hours away from home. I know. It blew my mind too.
There is a long and storied tradition that writers have to be tortured or crazy. Or any sullied variation that deals with being plagued by ...
It's 5:40 AM on a Wednesday. I have been up for an hour. I have an outline for a work in progress that I intended to work on this mornin...
Greetings from SkaggleRock and the Gallifrey Annex. It's almost Fall. Well, technically it is Fall, but it's almost that magical 3 ...
The house lights are down. The audience an invisible mass gathered with a low jumbled murmuring sit restless, somewhere out there in a cloud...