And then there were four. I’m not sure if my parents remember this, but many moons ago, they (maybe so long ago it was Santa?) gave me a child’s portable plastic Royal-lookalike typewriter. There is a picture of me on Christmas morning in pink pj’s, age 8 or 9, staring at this 1970’s version of a lap top, totally mesmerized & in love. I am kneeling down, fingers on keyboard, mushroom bob haircut poised for my bestseller back cover shot & I was hooked. Ever since then, consciously or not, I have had a soft spot of nostalgia for typewriters. They seem to attract kindreds & kindred hobbies–like stationery, letterpress, mail art, vintage finds once found in a classroom. They are all over my home, taking up valuable space my cat would otherwise like to sun-bathe, but c’est la vie, they are part of me & I am still hooked after all these years. The promise & symbol of the bestseller lives on. Or at least a stylish ransom note. xo