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Showing posts with label Touch typing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Touch typing. Show all posts

Tuesday, 2 April 2013

The End of an Old Life and the Start of a New One.


I write this in the new role of full time writer. Officially, my retirement starts on 5th April and my 65th birthday isn't until next month. But, for reasons I won’t bore you with, I finished employment on 21st March. Last week was supposed to be a holiday, to ease the passage from one stage to another. However, outside events intervened and I spent some of that in hospital and much of the time since in recovery. The knee’s progressing well and I’m now able to walk unaided for short distances.

It’s been a mixed month: emotionally demanding. In spite of the fact that I was eager to finish my time as an employee, the conditioning we receive from society confers the role of breadwinner on most men and entrenches that expectation, so I experienced some muddled emotions. The turmoil was short-lived. I shall continue to be the provider, but using pensions instead of wages. And, now I have the freedom, my writing will contribute to my earnings more than it has.

What was intended to be a short period of relaxation, to allow me to settle into retirement, turned out to be a physically demanding period in the hands of skilled and caring medics. I chose to have the operation under local anaesthetic, as previous experience with general anaesthetics has caused violent vomiting; something I prefer to avoid. Also, being able to witness the procedure allowed me to collect further experiences for my writing.

English: Right knee.
English: Right knee. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I managed to give the anaesthetist a bit of a problem. My blood pressure was textbook but my pulse rate rather slow (much to my pleasure, he compared it to that of an athlete). The spinal anaesthetic has the effect of fooling the heart into believing that the lower half of the body has lost interest in receiving blood, so the pump slows down. In my case, rather too much, so that I began to faint. Oxygen and an injection of some stimulant soon had me performing normally again. For associated reasons, however, I began to shiver with cold as my core temperature dropped a couple of degrees in the air-conditioned theatre. That was readily cured by the use of an inflatable blanket attached to its own supply of hot air (something I can generally provide without difficulty). I was kept wonderfully warm throughout.

The most surreal aspect of the experience was seeing the surgeon lift a leg that was mine, but appeared to belong to someone else, so convinced was my body and brain that it remained flat on the table. Extraordinary!

The offending intruder in the joint (matchstick for scale)
Watching the images from the camera as it toured my knee joint was fascinating. The obstruction, a piece of bone about the size and shape of an unshelled almond, was located fairly early in the procedure. But the normal route of extraction turned out to be unsuitable, so a third incision was made to give better access and, after 40 minutes on the slab, the offending invader was removed. The surgeon showed me the hole, at the rear of the patella, where the piece of bone had once resided, evident even 19 years after the incident that caused the injury. He cleaned up the rough and damaged surfaces of the cartilage within the joint and on the back surface of the knee cap, flushed out the other small bits of detritus, and sewed up the wounds.

Once out of the recovery suite, I was wheeled back to my private room (this is the NHS so such luxury is a treat) and fitted with a surgical stocking to match the one on my ‘good’ leg. These help prevent the dreaded deep vein thrombosis that can afflict older patients, especially following surgery on the legs. As an added precaution, I was provided with five pre-packed injections of anti-coagulant and shown how to inject the first of these into my stomach so I could do the rest over the following days.

The medical aspects done, I had to drink (something I was very ready to do), eat, and pass urine before I could be released. By late afternoon I was free for my wife to take me home. The anaesthetic began to wear off during the journey and I understood I was in for a period of pain, of course.

Subsequent days have seen me hobbling and then walking with the aid of my father’s old walking stick. Yesterday, I managed about 1 mile, so I’m clearly well on the road to full recovery. Now looking forward to longer walks in the wonderful Yorkshire Dales and bike rides around the local countryside.

You’ll understand that the month hasn’t been what could be called a ‘regular’ period of time, especially as the Easter holiday intervened. I’ve also begun the touch-typing lessons I alluded to in a previous post. So far, I can manage asdfghjkl; and am now starting on t and y. I’ve discovered I have to do the exercises in short bursts as my fingers ache at present. This, of course, will reduce as I become used to the movement. One other thing I’ve noticed is how sensitive the keys are. Last time I tried touch-typing it was on a manual typewriter and required considerable force to move the keys. Different technique required. But it’ll be worth the effort and time to increase my 2 finger, 1 thumb speed above its current 45 wpm. And, of course, I’ll be able to copy type, without looking at the keyboard as I do now.

At last, then, to the chart. You’ll note that a significant part of the month has been spent reading, which is hardly surprising, given the above. I managed some writing: reviews, blog posts and a short story. Did some editing; the epic fantasy, short stories, blog posts etc. A great deal of internet research, largely in preparation for the future, and much work done under the catch-all label of ‘Admin’, which includes the typing lessons and the conversion of some textual quotes into tweets. The contests page has been updated a couple of times, and that’s always time consuming. Needs doing again, of course. But I failed utterly in the submissions department. Not a single story sent to either contest or magazine. I intend to correct those omissions in the coming weeks. And, of course, I’ll be doing more real writing from now. That, of course, is the exciting stuff.

A longer piece than envisaged when I began, but I thought my experience might help those who face similar interventions. I hope so, anyway.

How did you do during this third month of the year? Hit your targets, increased your output, experienced anything new? Let us know and share it with us here.

The pie chart, explained:
'Writing' - initial creation of stories, blog posts, reviews and longer works.
'Editing' - polishing of all written work to make it suitable for readers.
'Research' - discovery of info for story content, market research, contests and blog posts.
'Reading' - books and writing magazines.
'Networking' - emails, Twitter, Pinterest, Facebook and Google+ activity.
'Admin' - story submission, blog posting, marketing, organisation and general admin tasks.

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Thursday, 28 March 2013

To Touch Type or Not?

The "QWERTY" layout of typewriter ke...
The "QWERTY" layout of typewriter keys became a de facto standard and continues to be used long after the reasons for its adoption (including reduction of key/lever entanglements) have ceased to apply. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Several centuries back, when I was a young stripling with grandiose ideas and the energy to consider them achievable, I started out as a freelance photo-journalist. At the time, my first wife and I occupied a semi-basement flat that nestled beneath a Tudor farmhouse. It had once served as a hatchery for the chickens that the farmer’s father had bred. The current farmer had lost interest in fowl, other than a small number kept for the production of fresh eggs for the family. So, we lived in a relatively idyllic spot, paying rent and offering my services on the farm as a labourer for a minimum wage. My wife taught at a local school.

I took a touch typing course in preparation for the coming times when I would produce hundreds of articles, stories and features each week and become an editors’ dream. That course, where I joined the ranks of many women of various ages as the only man, took place in a classroom in a building far enough away to require me to cycle the distance. It was spread over a fortnight, weekday mornings only, and we used manual typewriters to take the lessons. This was long before even electric typewriters were around. I had, at home, an ancient upright Olympia machine, manufactured in my birth town of Hull.

The lessons went well with the disciplinarian female teacher sternly ensuring we all moved along apace. By the end of the fortnight, I was proficient and typing at around 70 words per minute. Experience would soon increase that speed.

Then the farmer, who was an odd and rather impractical character, announced that we’d better be prepared to move at short notice since he was seriously considering selling up and moving the whole family to America.

This edict came the Sunday following the end of my, for me, expensive course. After discussions with my then wife, we decided that freelancing, with its unknowns and vagaries, was not promising enough in this uncertain situation. On the Monday following, I’d been mucking out the stables and returned to the flat to discover I needed some paper for a photographic article I was preparing for Amateur Photographer magazine. I walked the couple of miles into town in my smelly wellies, intending to make this a quick trip so I could get on with the article. As I strode down the street leading to the photographic shop I usually frequented, I passed another shop, which also sold cameras, along with many other items of technology. Sellotaped to the glass door was a hand written advert for a sales assistant.

The man behind the counter was friendly as I approached. I nodded to the doorway and mentioned the advert. He looked me up and down, taking in my torn jeans, scruffy tee-shirt, manure-coated boots and the odd strand of straw in my shoulder length hair.

‘Sell me this camera.’

I handled it quickly, familiarised myself with its features and explained them to the man as if he were a customer with little technical knowledge.

‘Okay. Tell me about these binoculars.’

I did the same again, suggesting he might like to take them outside and view the street to get a better idea of their magnification and range.

He listed six items on the shelves behind him. ‘I’ve bought those and given you fifty quid. How much change do I get?’

I told him without hesitation.

‘When can you start?’

I told him I could start after lunch if he wished.

‘Tomorrow will do. Eight o’clock sharp.’

I shook hands with Paddy and left to buy my photo paper from the shop down the road, where they sold only photographic equipment and materials. As I left Paddy’s shop he raised a hand.

‘Just one thing, Stuart. You will be wearing something suitable, won’t you?’

I grinned. ‘I’ve my birthday suit, or the one I got married in. Up to you, Paddy.’

He smiled. ‘The wedding suit, I think, don’t you?’

Thus began a short friendship (I replaced him as manager three months later when he became the area manager for the whole group of shops) and thus also ended my initial foray into freelancing.
It was three years before I found time to get back to a typewriter and we’d remained on the farm throughout the period. But the shop job allowed me to obtain a mortgage to buy our own home.
The touch-typing had long been forgotten.

Since then, because of other commitments, I’ve managed to type with two fingers and a thumb and can manage around 45 words per minute with reasonable accuracy.

Last week, I retired from employment. I bought some touch typing software, Individual Software’s Typing Instructor Platinum; the Full UK English Version. Amazon.co.uk delivered the software today and I’ve installed it and printed out the PDF instruction manual. I’m one of those unusual men who actually thinks an instruction manual is a useful device. Saves so much time.

So, I shall start the typing skills lessons tomorrow, once I’ve read the manual.

It’s my first week of retirement from employment and my first week as an intended full-time writer. Been a bit interrupted by a hospital visit on Monday for assessment and on Tuesday for surgery on an old knee injury. Not the time I would have chosen for the surgery, but pleased to have it out of the way. (In UK, we have the wonderful National Health Service, which means the whole procedure cost me nothing. The slight downside is that we have no choice over timing, but that’s a price worth paying for what is a superb and professional free service.) The surgery, anaesthetic and aftermath have left me less than fit and it’ll be a couple of weeks before I can start to drive again and lead a normal life. I also have to take regular rests for the next few days. But I’ll begin the touch-typing course tomorrow and keep you informed of my progress.

So, my question today is this:

Do you touch type or are you a one, two, three finger typist? How quickly can you get those words down? How accurate are you? Or, do you only write longhand and have some other to transfer the script to text?
Share your experience and thoughts here, please. I love to know how my visitors are doing.

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Thursday, 28 June 2012

20 Things I’ve Sort of Learned So Far.

  1. Paradoxically, it seems likely that fear of success is what most holds me back. The questions is, ‘Why?’
  2. I can write fluently, without preparation or planning, more or less at will. And I know how much that will piss off some of you, sorry!
  3. I can find ten reasons not to write, even though I enjoy writing and know that’s what I should be doing at the time. Perverse nature, idiocy, or something deeper, like laziness?
  4. Writer’s block is a problem for others. I have my own hurdles to jump. Generally, I build them as I go through life.
  5. Creating is the most enjoyable part of the process of writing. So why do I spend so much time and effort avoiding it?
  6. Editing is also enjoyable. I wonder why I put it off.
  7. Pinterest is a fascinating waste of time. Popular, relatively pointless and addictive.
  8. I can spend an hour or two lost in the inconsequential chatter of Twitter and Facebook. It’s called networking, but it’s really nothing much more than placing my opinions out there to cause discussion and debate.
  9. Learning to touch type would make me more efficient. But I need to be free from the day job to do that with any real chance of success. Roll on retirement from the wage slave employment.
  10. Reading my work out loud allows its imperfections to scream at me. So, I actually try to do this with everything, though I don’t always succeed, of course.
  11. Reading and editing from the printed page reveals all those typos and repetitions I miss when scanning the screen. So, I try to make sure I print off everything before it goes out, except, of course, these blog posts!
  12. As I approach the point where I should submit a piece, I discover innumerable reasons to put it off. Is it doubt, lack of confidence or that old problem from the top of this list, d’you reckon?
  13. It’s better to clip those gems of genius and place them in a file for future use than to discard them with the delete key. I’m all for re-cycling.
  14. There are a hundred distractions for every determined effort to impose discipline on my work process and I can indulge in each of them in spite of the guilt they all bring. Guilt; the precious gift of the Abrahamic religions. Why couldn’t the God Squad deliver something more useful, I wonder.
  15. If I don’t write down that brilliant idea at once, I will, always, always, always, forget it before I reach my study. Always.
  16. Of the brilliant notes I record in any of my 3 notebooks, almost all will result in a useful idea to develop, which makes it surprising that I often resist the recording. Stubborn? Me?
  17. If I fail to produce a visual reminder of my intended actions, I’ll forget what I intended just that morning and find myself doing something else instead. Usually something fairly unproductive, at that.
  18. Sometimes it’s fine to indulge in trivia, daydreams and idleness. Which, given my propensity to do just that, is a pretty good thing.
  19. Music helps isolate me from the intrusive sounds of everyday life. I play all my favourite tracks, both classical and pop, and never actually hear them if I’m lost in the creative process.
  20. Without reviews, an indie author might as well accept that he’ll sell very few books, regardless of the quality. But obtaining reviews is almost as hard as getting the work out there in the first place.
This, by the way, was a useful exercise, in that it concentrated my mind on certain aspects of my behaviour, which I can now attempt to alter. Might be worth your while engaging in a similar list if you see yourself in any of these lessons.
Comments readily received in the appropriate space below. Thank you.

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Thursday, 12 January 2012

Writing: the Pen or the Keyboard?

The "QWERTY" layout of typewriter ke...
Image via Wikipedia

Writers are a funny bunch. We each have our own self-imposed rules, routines, favourites and hates. I know of authors who can no more create at the keyboard than they can lay an egg. But my method of composition now depends utterly on the keyboard. This is despite the fact that I can't touch type and use only two fingers (not those two!) and a thumb (either will do, I'm not prejudiced). I have to look at the keyboard as I write and then glance at the screen, with Word's spelling correction thingy open so it underlines any typos I make as I go along. I make a lot of ytops so I really should do something about it.
I should learn to touch type, of course.
In fact, I spent a fortnight doing just that, about 700 years ago, on a manual typewriter, and became quite proficient by the end of the course. Unfortunately, events jumped up and down on my ambition at the time and, having finished the course, I never went near a keyboard again for over two years. By that time, I'd forgotten everything I'd learned and went back to my three digit approach. It's not too bad; I can manage about 45 words a minute, when I'm really going. But I'd be much better off if I could touch type. One day, perhaps…
I don't dare write in script. I was clearly meant to be either a genius or a doctor, because my handwriting is all but indecipherable, even to me! Where did it all go wrong? The bit about being a genius or a doctor, I mean. As for the handwriting, well I have a small excuse that I was one of the lucky few who, following the end of World War II (I'm not that old that I have any personal connection with WWI), I was part of the generation who went to school during the continuing paper shortage. So, I learned to write, at age five, using a framed slate panel and a lead scriber. We complain about Health and Safety rules these days, but at least our kids don't learn using intimate contact with poisonous metals, eh? I was still in the early days of this initial learning when I contracted Scarlet Fever. I recall the ambulance, with its ringing bell (yes, a bell, not a siren) rushing me to the local hospital on Christmas Eve. There, I spent six weeks in an isolation ward, along with umpteen other patients, of all ages and both genders, suffering other contagious illnesses. Another six weeks off school, after I was discharged, meant I'd fallen seriously behind my fellow pupils when I returned to school a few weeks before my sixth birthday. I never caught up. So, that's my excuse for the poor handwriting.
But, in spite of my dyslexic fingers, the keyboard serves me well. Thank heavens for the speedy ability to right wrongs there. I repair spelling errors on the fly, but never actually read what I've written until I reach the end of a piece, no matter whether that piece is a tweet, a short story or a novel. Then I return to the beginning and correct, edit, replace and cut wherever necessary. Unlike many writers, I actively enjoy the editing process. The creative part, which I do at tearing pace, flying through the paragraphs like a demented racehorse set free from its jockey, I love. The making up of lives, events, lands, and all the other story elements feeds that part of me where the imagination dwells.
In my early days, I did actually write in longhand and then transposed the work to type on a manual typewriter; a process that took more time than the composition, usually because I couldn't read my own writing and had to decipher words to make sense of it. I used the less than perfect Tippex to deal with the odd typo. Later, I progressed to an electronic machine with a correction ribbon; a real boon. But, in those days before the word processor and computer printer, any re-arrangement of a sentence involved retyping an entire page and, sometimes, an entire chapter. Publishers required pristine text without alterations, so it could take a long time, much patience, and an entire forest to turn out a manuscript that an agent or editor would accept.
Paper wasn't generally recycled back then, so the waste bin overflowed with screwed up pages. These days, we wait until everything appears perfect on the screen before committing the work to paper. But even that isn't foolproof: every writer understands that editing on paper is far more likely to throw up errors than doing the same job on the computer screen. But, at least, it's simpler to correct now, and it isn't often necessary to reprint the entire work simply because of a few errors.
So, I compose at the keyboard, correct on screen, print in draft and re-edit using a pen, and then I transfer the changes to the file and reprint in 'best' mode to send my work off to editors and agents. I print, as required by the industry, on one side only of the paper, with wide margins. I mean, what's it matter if I still use a forest to achieve this level of perfect presentation? All that matters is that the reading professional will have no reason to reject the piece without even bothering to read it. After all, competition is tough out there. It's good to know that they'll have a pristine piece of work to view before they reject it without reading; makes the whole process so much more worthwhile, don't you think?

A question for you to ponder: Why are you IN a movie, but ON TV?


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