Why don’t she have a cell phone? Not because she pretend to be wise or pose an unusual. There are two chief reasons: because she doesn't like the cell phone, and because she find she can still work and play, eat, breathe, and sleep without it. Why don’t she like the telephone? Because she thinks it’s a pest. It may create unnecessary suspense and anxiety, as and when you wait for an expected call that doesn’t come; or irritating delay, as when you keep bringing a number that is always engaged. As for speaking in a public telephone box, that seems to her really horrible. When you do get into the box, you are half asphyxiated by stale, unventilated air, flavoured with different perfumes and chain-smoking; and by the time you have begun your conversation your back is chilled by the cold looks of somebody who is fidgeting to take your place. If you have a phone in your house, you will admit that it tends to ring when you least want it- when you are asleep, or in the middle of a meal or a conversation, or when you are just going out, or when you are in your bath. Are you strong minded enough to ignore it, to say to yourself, ‘’Ah well, it will be same in a hundred years’ time?‘’ You are not. You think there may be some important news or message for you. Have you never rushed dripping from the bath, or chewing from the table, or dazed from the bed, only to be told that you are a wrong number?
Image courtesy- splicetoday.net
If like her, one is without a telephone, somebody is sure to say ‘Oh, but don’t you find you have to write an awful lot of letters? The answer to that is ‘Yes, but she should have to write an awful lot of letters anyway.’ This may bring the remark ‘Ah well, if you don’t have a telephone, at least you must have a typewriter.’ And the answer to this is ‘No’.
‘What, no telephone and no typewriter! Do please explain why?
Well, She is a professional girl of letters, when she was younger she thought a typewriter would be convenient. She even thought it was necessary, and that editors and publishers would expect anything sent to them to be type-written. So she bought a typewriter and taught herself to type, and for some years she typed away busily. But she did not enjoy typing. She happens to enjoy the act of writing. She enjoys framing letters or words with a pen, and she could never enjoy tapping the keys of a typewriter. There again, there was a bell-only a little bell that rang at the end of each line- but still a bell. And the fact is, she is not mechanically minded, and a typewriter is a machine. She has never been drawn to machines. She doesn't like oiling, cleaning or mending them. To control them gives her no sense of power or, not the kind of power that she finds interesting. And machines do not like her. When she touch them they tend to break down, get jammed, or blow up.
She finds that writing longhand she can enter a zone of comfort she finds hard to achieve when sitting in front of a screen – She finds typing annoying. The constant tap-tap-tap-tap on the keyboard reminds her of all the offices she has worked in. The sound bores into her, it fills her with an anxiety she could do without. Writing longhand is a whole different feeling. For a start, she can take notepads and pens everywhere she go; which means she can write anywhere she wants, when she want. This is good for her as she says- “my writing comes to me in fits rather than prolonged spells. Only when my work is finished in longhand do I transfer it to a computer, editing as I type up. I find this part of my writing process the least enjoyable.’’
She chooses to write everything by longhand and spends up to 8 hours a day doing so. She says: “Writing is a consequence of thinking, planning, dreaming – this is the process that results in ‘writing,’ rather than the way in which the writing is recorded.”