Reader, I bought a Freewrite! While I haven’t been able to use it much yet, so far I love my Freewrite Traveler. (This is not a sponsored post. I wish.)
Here is my side of the text conversation I had with my darling daughter about it recently, lightly edited:
“It’s like a typewriter but it ONLY connects to the internet to save your writing. It’s a distraction-free writing device. Best for first drafts. I don’t know if I can justify the cost, but I bought it with mad money, because I just want it.
More pluses: it has a glare-free screen so I can write outside. It’s built to be used on the beach, too! In my dreams, your dad and I own a small place at the dunes, and I can write on the beach every day! My fantasy “retirement” in a box.
Also, it’s lightweight. Its keys are weighted and responsive, like a typewriter’s. And all the cool kids have one. (I actually don’t personally know anyone with one, though it could be they have one and I just don’t know it.)
You can’t easily look back at what you’ve written on it, so it tunnels you into your draft. Since anxiety is such a huge part of my writing process, it doesn’t let me agonize as much because I can’t go over and over it, at least not until I transfer the document over to revise it on my laptop. Once you do that, you can’t transfer it back over. It’s not playing about keeping you in hot draft mode.
I bought the travel version because it’s light and compact. It fits in most of my purses! Now I just need time to use it.”
My poor, indulgent daughter, listening to her mother go on about things that probably don’t interest her. On the other hand, she has a new puppy, a mini dachshund named Oskar, which thrills me. I hear we might get to meet him in October!
I know, I know. It’s hard to justify one of these contraptions, a Freewrite, but I’m at the planning stages (again? still?) of my third novel, and this, so far, has been perfect for it. I’ll know more later, when I’ve had more experience with it, but so far, it’s a dream tool.
If I were giving advice, I’d say get that “impractical” tool that your soul keeps asking for, whatever it is, if you can. There might be a reason it wants it that you just don’t know yet.
P.S. I spent my scheduled daily “Do whatever the hell you want” hour (mindset coach’s orders for this week) today reading Steven Pressfield’s newest release, Put Your Ass Where Your Heart Wants to Be. It literally took me less than an hour to read the whole thing. While I admittedly rolled my eyes at the first third which basically said move to wherever the action in your creative pursuit is, the short book inspired me. (Especially after he exempted writers because we can write anywhere. We still thrive best when we have a writing community of some kind, though, don’t we?) He reminded me in his book to open myself daily to the muse. I finished a short creative response about that earlier this morning, before I read his book. Coincidence? I think not.
Pressfield shared a gorgeous story about the sacrifices a pianist made to have his career, with all its ups and downs punctuated by playing, at best, an “acceptable” concert, because perfection just doesn’t exist. I can attest to this. Hubby and I did a show for a local retirement community recently. Though we had practiced, I had a dry spot in my throat and well, you can’t stop mid phrase to take a drink, so you push on. He said he didn’t notice, so I hope the audience didn’t, either. Expecting perfection, at my amateur level of singing, is laughable. But how frustrating it must be for the pianist who devotes at least six hours a day to practice, not to mention the discomfort of constant travel, to know he could only have a great concert, no perfection. (Chances are the undiscerning ear wouldn’t notice his “fumbles,” though.)
I’m glad there are artists of all stripes willing to take the time and effort to create. Life is richer for it.
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