The typewriter and business name lend a certain Mad Men-inspired nostalgia to our business, and bring to mind journalists and novelists slaving over their choice of word. When working on the website design, we wanted to replicate the typewriter action on the home page: that unique click clack jolt and then the hand return at the end of each line.
Then we thought: Will any of our clients have ever used or seen a typewriter in action?
I first learned to type on an electric ‘golf ball’ typewriter – which was the immediate precursor to word processing, where the ball moved along the page in much the same way as your cursor moves along the screen today. But in old fashioned typewriters, it was the carriage and the page that did all the moving.
Many novelists today eschew modern technology in favour of the typewriter, believing it to be a more tactile experience. There is something about committing to type on a page that can’t be easily erased with a quick paragraph highlight and the delete key. There is also the satisfaction of tugging at the page with frustration, screwing it up and binning it when the words do not come to you freely.
The typewriter is also where the hangover of the double space at the end of the sentence comes from. The computer, unlike its predecessor, recognises the end of a sentence and spaces accordingly. As an editor and proofreader, I have spent years removing them. Most designers will as a matter of course, immediately check for and remove all double spaces when they first receive a document for layout.
Despite this typographical shortcoming, the typewriter’s place in writing history was profound, and the memory of using one is fading rapidly.
In the end, we chose to limit the animation on the home page. But having done the programming to make it work, we have decided to display it here. For those unfamiliar with how an old fashioned typewriter functioned and too polite to ask how old we are that we know from experience, this one’s for you.
Writing
Bureau