Updike never switched over to using a computer for his stories; some poets have never abandoned their manual typewriters.  My dad had a manual sea green one. I started with an electric Smith-Corona, blue like a robin’s egg, I think.  At some point, I traded the blue for my father’s brown one.  Then I upgraded to a Panasonic Electronic, a smooth humming baby that I loved.  I wrote long-hand on legal pads, then when I was ready to transfer to type, I used yellow second sheets first to draft, and white for the final.  I had a sheet that I used as a margin guide that I placed behind the white to guide my words.  

I would put an album on, and type one page per one side for the final white, which was how long it took not knowing how to type.

NowI have a manuscript that is 310 pages long. I am reluctant to print it out because that means I can no longer tinker, adjust. Once I print, I have to read, and decide if I want to retype. The work in abstract so much more attractive because it is still forming.

All nostalgia and memory.