Private History Lesson (PS: No Subsidy) (PPS: Joke Follows)

Has anyone ever thought about the causes of the great turnovers in world literature?

From my lecture notes as a freelance historian.

I happened to be leaving my shabby old town on a bus a few days ago. But before my friend frolicked over to join me on our joyride sponsored by the overpriced public transport, I had some fifteen to twenty minutes for myself (during the Months of Lethargy, chances are I will arrive earlier than early and perhaps even earlier than that because.. meh), during which I had the choice to a) stare into the void, b) work on conceptualizing an outlandish scene involving two possibly non-human beings. After making an obvious choice, I found myself left with ten more minutes of free time and no spots within my range of vision that I had not scrutinized, so I took out my phone to start sketching verbally, lamenting my decision to not bring a simple notepad and a pen.

This anti-climactic moment reminded me of a thought I had for the first time many years ago. It followed the traditional five-minutes-of-pity-for-all-men-of-history model as it dawned on me that paper & pen is an incredibly inefficient means for a writer.

Think about it.

*SNAP* Exactly. Spelling out the statement on my keyboard gives me barely enough time to really  t-h-i-n-k   a-b-o-u-t   i-t.

Keyboards have made it possible to bypass the problem of watching your precious ideas slip away because the act of writing them down with your hand takes so (excuse me) damn long. I'm not suggesting the invention of typewriters has improved the quality of writing, but I do believe that making writing possible at the speed of thinking and speaking has helped channel a way to ground-breaking writing techniques. Take spontaneous prose such as stream-of-consciousness fiction, for instance. In essence, such prose is admirable for the lack of editing and the resulting impression of a rough draft; the quantity and flow are much too difficult to imitate if you rely on the limited capabilities of your slow and imperfect limbs. (Useful for a trillion good reasons, such as imaginary dialogues with one of your "slow and imperfect" limbs: hey there, I see you talking behind my back, but golly, you talked differently the other day when I saved the stupid shot glass you're so attached to emotionally from falling on the floor and getting smashed into pieces, and who scratches your back when you need it, maybe next time you wake up in the middle of the night to lift my dead weight I won't be there for you for real, now how's that little buddy, you could speak more highly of me once in a while you know, and no, I am not mad.)

Phew. So if you expected me to rejoice that my phone saved me from my self-imposed limbo, I must disappoint you. The tiny keyboard on my phone is no help since, naturally, typing on my broken screen is as effective as using chalk on a white board. And for those of you who have doubts about the clear-cut and simplified version of literary history that I just presented, all I can say is---well, I like concise statements. So much for now.