By the time I was seventeen, I was sitting on the floor of my bedroom each night, pounding away on a turquoise electric typewriter that I had borrowed from a neighbor two years earlier.
Clickety-clack, rattling, and clattering.
The sound of the keys was a steady beat as I tried to capture the ideas in my head and get them down on paper as fast as I could. Frankly, I don’t know how my family ever put up with the noise.
Clickety-clack, rattling, and clattering.
We lived in such a small space: five people, one bathroom, roughly 1100 sq ft. I shared the bedroom with my brother Mark. I could only write when he wasn’t home or when my sister Barbara wasn’t trying to sleep in the next room.
Clickety-clack, rattling, and clattering.
I know the sound carried right downstairs into the living room where my parents watched the small B&W television. I don’t remember my parents ever asking what I was working on each night. It would be decades before I found out that the Old Man was secretly reading the scribbles that I left lying around the house.
Clickety-clack, rattling, and clattering.
Each night, when I sat at that typewriter, I was twisting words to my will, turning my thoughts into a paper reality, forging something out of nothing. I felt wholly alive.
Clickety-clack, rattling, and clattering.
I produced reams of stories — for school, for my friends, for myself. I lost all of it decades ago in one of the too-many moves that I made after my Mom died or after someone broke into my car at the Westgate Mall. Irretrievable. Irreplaceable. So I started over.
Clickety-clack, rattling, and clattering.
For years afterward, I dabbled on a typewriter that I finally bought for myself, but I produced nothing concrete; nothing worth saving. Or so I thought at the time. Now I would give much to find those old pages again.
Clickety-clack, rattling, and clattering.
I started writing again in earnest at Northeastern University during the fall semester of 2000. I haven’t stopped since. I’ve written on a PC or laptop for twenty years, writing day or night, fulfilling assignments, or fulfilling a need — my need — to write. Twenty years full of creative and academic writing to fulfill degree requirements and, finally, published writing.
There is no heft to the keys on a laptop keyboard, and it does not allow for the same clickety-clack of the keys when I type. However, in my mind, I distinctly hear the clickety-clack, rattling, and clattering of that old turquoise electric typewriter as I pound away on the keyboard, creating my life as an author.
And so it begins.
I am an author. This is my website. I welcome you here.
* * *
“Writing is not life, but I think that sometimes it can be a way back to life.”
― Stephen King, from “On Impact: After an accident, learning to write again”, published in The New Yorker, June 19 & 26 2000 issue.
Sue/Suzie says
Thanks for sharing your passion. It’s like you’ve got us tucked in your backpack, so we can enjoy the journey too. How cool is that. To me it’s like a Winnie the Pooh and Christopher Robin journey. Thank you & carry on ♡
Andrew Peterson says
Thank you for being here, Sue. You can never go wrong with a reference to a Winnie the Pooh and Christopher Robin journey.
Beverly Comeau says
Excellent!! Thank you for sharing this part of your journey, looking forward to reading more of your work!
Andrew Peterson says
You’re welcome, my friend. My journey wouldn’t be complete without the people who have helped shape me into the person that I am today alongside me.
Luci says
Wonderful! Your dive into writing is taking us all on a grand expedition. Sail on to success, Andrew.
Andrew Peterson says
Luci, As I have said elsewhere, I will never be able to thank you enough for stoking my creative fires way back when. While I’m not sure where my journey will ultimately take me, you helped me to get started on the path. Thank you for being here.
Apryl Edlund says
Love your introductory story, Andy. Looking forward to more musing of your mind, congratulations on a great start.
Andrew Peterson says
Thank you very much, Apryl! Glad to have you along for the ride.
Nancy DesRosiers says
While common friends lead me here to your blog I’m intrigued to learn more about your writing; subject matter, themes, maybe some common experiences? I find those ways we connect and find commonalities are some of the most satisfying parts of writing for me. Here’s to connection! Cheers! from Montana
Andrew Peterson says
My writing throughout my classroom experience has been noir-ish, chronicling the adventures of Adrian Tannhauser, a veteran of Iraq; now a PI in Boston.
My other writing in private is memoir, where I am honoring the stories of my family, friends, and those who have gone ahead to the Undiscovered Country.
I will certainly be exploring all of these things in detail right here in my blog.