But before you get into them, I encourage you to read what has been posted on One Typed Page. It’s a site I created where you can submit a typed page. Each day we get pages from around the world. And I post them for everyone to read. Perhaps a page will help during these difficult times. If you have a typewriter, consider sending a page! Thanks for visiting.

The list is numbered, but don’t let the numbering sway you. Any of these will do the job. Most are from the 1950s or later. They’re not collectible. They’re not antiques. They’re for working writers.

You should be able to nab one for under $200 that probably just needs a new ribbon. They’re all portables, because they’re easier to ship and are more readily available. A quick search on eBay or Etsy will yield several results. Most are plentiful, while some may exist in fewer quantities. But wait a week or two and you’ll likely find a good one.

Have I overlooked any that should be on the list?

Nominate your worthy ones in the comments section!

Remember: this is the typewriter you’d recommend to your writer friend as their first typewriter. They’re relying on you to come through!

That’s why this list may appear conservative. I usually recommend a regular portable, not the ultra-portable and not a standard desktop.

Get started on a portable, then once you’re in the habit, decide if a different size or style might better suit your needs.

10. Royal Quiet Deluxe 1950s.

Post-war boomer style and function at its peak. The key action is light. It’s basket shifted. Plus it comes in a variety of colors! If you can’t match the right palate, the standard machine will fit with any style. The only issue I’ve found with these machines is the button that pops the lid can come pop open if you’re typing too hard. Just slap a little duct tape on it and you’re good to go! You’re a writer, improvise! This is a fun typewriter!

9. Hermes Rocket

My ultra-portable exception! Hey, it’s made in Switzerland! These babies were popular with the journalist set for a reason. Get a 1960s vintage or later. It’s only weakness: the stubby carriage return lever is not that great. The last version of the Rocket finally had a longer lever. Nice! Every Rocket I’ve owned had a rock hard platen. Maybe they came that way! If you plan on setting on your desk, unscrew the bottom plate and scrape off the hardened rubber feet and super glue some new ones on. I get the clear rubber kind from Ace Hardware (Part No. 5182381). Otherwise, it’d also work great on your lap reclining in a barcalounger.

8. Underwood Champion

Muscular and solid. When you punch a key it feels like you’re getting in the ring. Rock ‘em sock ‘em! You can go all twelve rounds with the Champ. The gloss black one is to die for. But hard to find and can get pricey! But the regular model is just as good. The keys tops are big for you big handed writers. Even if you have delicate digits, this handsome guy is not hard to wrangle. It’s only weakness: the heavier carriage shift.

7. Olympia SM 3&4

The key action is perfection. Each is spring loaded with solid Bakelite tops. These are writing machines. The lines and colors inspire. The chrome sparkles. The carriage glide is steel on glass. Quiet. Smooth. On track. An engineering marvel. That’s the great, what’s the dirt? Rock hard platens. If you get one on the cheap, you’ll probably be able to bounce a penny off the platen. I’ve had many and they’ve all had this issue, and when you type it makes an annoying smacking sound. It also has the heavy carriage shift. But the key action and carriage glide may outweigh any heaviness to you.

6. Olympia SM7

By the 1960s, Olympia ditched style in favor of a more utilitarian machine. The keys are light and the carriage glide is smooth and easy. You can usually find these for under a $100. Plus, sometimes you can find one with a blue front panel. Cool! It nudges the SM3 because the platen will most likely be in better condition. However, it still has the carriage shift. But it feels lighter than the SM3. When searching for these, sellers often don’t know about the SM7 and lump them with the SM9s, or don’t label it all. Do a search for Olympia typewriter and you’ll get everything. The front panel on the SM7 is what gives it away.

5. Smith-Corona Sterling (pre-1960s) / Silent / Super Silent

An American speedster. The floating shift is what sets this machine apart. Where Olympia over-engineered, Smith-Corona went for simplicity. They don’t feel as tight, but they can fly! It’s a smaller portable and feels very personal. My only complaint is the ratcheting sound when you return the carriage. The 1950s colors are not the most inspiring! The platens are usually rocks, but somehow this doesn’t affect the sound or the imprint. I’m lumping the 1950s with the 1940s models, because the internals feel the same, just the 1940s style is way cooler! Plus, those glass top keys! The 1950s models are plentiful, but there’s also plenty of junky ones. They must’ve made these by the millions. You’re buying a solid typewriter lineage. A good one will not disappoint.

4. Olivetti Studio 44

An under-appreciated performer. You can usually snag a good one on the cheap. They’re a bit big for a portable, but that’s a good thing. It feels solid. It’s heavy. It has a big paddle on the carriage return lever. The carriage return is quiet and smooth. I’ve always found them to have good, soft platens. The typing is muted. The curves and color speak to the artist. It’s called the Studio for a reason. What’s not to like? The keys feel a bit stiff. Just slightly. Not a biggie. Really.

3. Hermes 3000

Fleet footed for sure. The keys feel soft, yet strike confidently. They’re cupped just right to fit the tips of your fingers. The insulated body mutes the sound. Many typewriters have an exposed undercarriage, not so on the Hermes. The bottom is covered, helping keep out dust and other nasties. The carriage glide is butter. Not super quick, but oh, so smooth. This is a class act. It has a matching snap-on shell to keep her covered, yet maintain her good looks. I’ve always found them with good, rubbery platens. However, the feet have usually hardened. I’d say scrape them off, but unfortunately, they’re oblong shaped and hard to find something that would fit in their place. Get a typewriter pad and your problem is solved! Otherwise, this typewriter will slip on your desk.

2. Olivetti Lettera 32

Slim. Quick. Light. It’s an Italian Ferrari, but without the iconic red. Who can write on a red typewriter? (There is the Olivetti Valentine, but that’s another story!) Olivetti picked the right color for the Lettera. The Lettera 32 occupies a unique position between portable and ultra-portable. It’s the laptop of typewriters. Plus, it has the easy going basket shift. The return lever is small and the space bar thin, but not so much that it affects usability, unless you’re in the brute squad. The key tops are flat, but have a slight indentation so you feel grounded on the keyboard. The platens are usually in great shape, pliant and soft. You could go with the Lettera 22 if it’s in great shape. They feel similar. But the 32 is newer. Newer is better. Here’s what Cormac McCarthy had to say of his Lettera 32:

It has never been serviced or cleaned other than blowing out the dust with a service station hose. I have typed on this typewriter every book I have written including three not published. Including all drafts and correspondence, I would put this at about 5 million words over a period of 50 years.

1. Olympia SM 9

The pinnacle of manual typewriter technology. Solid. Dependable. You can’t go wrong with one of these. Olympia finally went with the basket shift. Light and easy. The platens are usually in great condition. The carriage glide is smooth and quiet. The keys are light and responsive. There’s nothing wrong with an SM9. Nothing. It’s perfect. It’s plain vanilla, but hey, this is a writing machine and you’re a writer. It’s a job. The SM9 is up to the task. 

I know, I know, Olympia, Hermes and Olivetti dominate the top 10! They were popular in the day and they remain that way.

Have another to nominate? Toss it in the comments and write a review!

While I like to refer to my creature as a muse, King’s characters call them Fornits. Even the name conjures horror! And these Fornits are hungry little buggers, causing their owners to feed them scraps of food through the keyboard. Not sure where these Fornits relieve themselves! What a mess! To make matters worse, being near any electrical field apparently causes them great harm. So you can imagine the lengths these characters go to keep their Fornits happy and alive. Prudence turns to paranoia turns to — well, you have to read the story.

My creature seemingly lives off good vibrations. Clean energy. Cosmic fairy dust, that sort of thing. I don’t know really. It’s wise not to question such things. What I do know is that whenever I touch the keyboard I get a tingling sensation. It’s faint at first. I close my eyes for a moment. And this might sound dorky, but I think, I believe, I believe, I believe. The tingling turns to warmth. The tension leaves my shoulders. The wrists, elbows and digits surge with an oily fluidity. That’s when I know the juices are flowing and it’s time to write, or channel whatever voices, places, events materialize. Delusion? Madness? Perhaps. It could also be called focus. The type of focus found only on a typewriter. It’s foolish to think an imaginary creature could be part of the equation. But when you’ve been in this state, not everything always adds up. It’s a lonely venture and I suppose having somebody on your side can be comforting — unless it’s a Fornit, then watch out, you might have more than you bargained for!

This terrifying typewriter tale can be found in the short story collection, Skeleton Crew.

When I first got into typewriters, my initial reaction was how could anybody write on such a kooky machine? Though I must admit, my first experience was on a late 1960s Smith-Corona Galaxie 12, a modern yet somewhat under-achieving typewriter. Despite its shortcomings, there was still that special spark in the Galaxie I’m sure we’ve all felt in our own first encounters. It only spurred me to seek something better. Something smoother, more confident, better built and easier to type on. It’s a journey many of us still trod. It took a few errant side quests before discovering my 1947 Smith-Corona Sterling.

It’s not you who find the typewriter, but the typewriter who finds you. You’ll know it. Believe me. You might have a few in the constellation, but there’s the pole star that guides all your travels.

I suppose that’s what separates writers who use typewriters from those who use pencils, pens or other paraphernalia. Pencils wear down. Pens run out of ink. Computers lack soul. A typewriter is your constant companion. It has shape, form, function that never wears out. It’s a bit of you. You can call it up in your mind. It’s always there, waiting for you to write. After a while, it’s hard to imagine any journey without your typewriter. (Though I suppose, the pen and pencil crowd would say a typewriter is just more junk to get between you and your writing.)

And only a typewriter nut would swear there’s a creature who lives in their machine. It’s weird to think about it and kind of scary sometimes, but when I need that extra boost all I need do is write on my typewriter. The cosmic tinkling of my fingers brings her to life. Summons her. Powers her. Perhaps it’s just the levers of quantum mechanics activating electrons, protons, neutrons and photons that bridge the cosmic divide.

Oh golly, now I’ve really gone off the mark I’m afraid. After all, the photo in this post suggests a comparison of the Royal standard against the Hermes Rocket.

Lets flip back a few moments to that time where I made the decision to pursue the portable typewriter rather than the standard sized edition. While there were many fine blogs devoted to typewriters, none seemed to offer the pros and cons and other issues when deciding on a typewriter.

In my ignorance, I dismissed the larger machine as being slow and clumsy. After all, my fleet fingers were trained on computer keyboard, and what could be more fleet than the smaller typewriter? How wrong I was.

If anything, the portable is the poor cousin of the standard. Portables were designed when you needed something in a pinch or couldn’t afford the gold standard. Perhaps that’s why you see the famous writers poised over their portables, it was all they could afford! Plus, they were a vagary lot, shifty, always moving, one step ahead of creditors, if not the law. A portable was easily stashed and setup in new quarters without much fuss. And the most suspect of writers, sports journalists, used Rockets and Letteras due to the tight confines of the press box. There really wasn’t much choice. A writer using a standard machine was well-to-do in an established home who lived on a steady stream of praise and paychecks. While portables are fine typewriters for getting the job done, they just can’t compare to the stability and sure-footedness of the standard.

Despite its age and lack of upkeep, the 1930s Royal in the picture requires very little effort to strike a key. It almost feels self-powered. Plus, it’s super hard to get the keys to jam. Perhaps due to its quickness, you just can’t outpace this thing. It can take whatever you throw at it. Super nimble. It blew me away the first time I typed on it. And after using it for a while, portables felt flimsy. Even the bell on the standard Royal is large and makes a resounding ding. It’s an awesome sound. It’s the sound of real work getting down. The keys also make a reassuring thunk-thunk-thunk. And with a machine this size, it’s not slipping around on your desk. Put a pad under it to help dampen the sound.

This is probably reason numero uno for not having the standard in the home, they’re loud. A roomful of these must’ve been deafening. I can see why “quiet” was often part of the portable name, nipping any potential strife in the bud. Perhaps this explained why many writers preferred the portable. They weren’t making any money and that horrific racket they made only fortified those around that they should get a real job and stop bothering the world. Or perhaps, the only time to write was in the off-hours of the night or pre-dawn. The quieter the machine, the less flack taken. Computers have solved this problem. Nobody really knows what you’re doing. All evidence of your life’s work cleverly hidden in recursive folders with non-sensical names that you’ve even forgot what you’ve written.

If you’re still tinkering with typewriters and looking for the one, consider the standard. Find a nice solid desk with plenty of room. Make it your shrine. A good lamp. Two wire baskets. One for blanks. The other for done. Devote 2 hours a day and pretty soon it’ll add up. It’s a titan sized effort, but with a titan typewriter on your side, your muse will have the muscle to pull you through.

If we resisted the tossing of the old and made do with what we had, where would the incentive be to keep the factories open? As Steinbeck warned us, the monster must be fed. If it does not grow, it dies. Something like that. OK, this is supposed to be a typewriter review, not Commie propaganda, and the product in question hails from Switzerland, the bastion of neutrality. The Hermes 2000.

First, I’d like to meet the marketing madman who came up with this numbering scheme. How’d they skip from 1 to 2000? If there were a Hermes 1000, that might make sense, but as far as I can tell, no such machine exists. The Hermes 2000 was introduced in the 1930s, so perhaps 2000 made it sound like a machine that was decades ahead of its time. And if you just go on the looks of a Hermes 3000, the revamped design suggests a leap of a 1,000 years. This reasoning makes more sense when you consider their ultra-portable was dubbed, The Rocket. Combine the far-out numbering with the crazy-cool color, and yeah, this is Futurama. It’s a machine DeLorean or Disney would use.

What seemed to launch it all was the 2000. While it was still boxy like many of its competitors, by the 1950s its trademark green keys stood out. And this is what makes a Hermes typewriter such a special breed. The keys feel unlike any other typewriter. They’re cupped, soft and the action is supple, quiet and assured. It just feels good to rest your fingers on the keys. Plus, the cool green soothes and draws you in. It’s refreshing like a mint sprig.

OK, it’s a great machine. But how does it compare to the new and improved 3000? Besides the obvious design leap from pretty good to far-out, the 2000 feels snappier and the carriage lighter. While I like the Hermes touch, the 3000 always felt like a heavy machine. The 2000 still has the soft touch, but lighter and quicker. What’s not as light in the 2000 is the carriage shift. While it’s not bad, I’m more of a basket shifted fan. The soundproofing in the 3000 is super-stealth, compared to the lesser padded 2000. If disturbing the neighbors is your concern, the 3000 is one of the quietest ones around. Perhaps due to the entire frame wrapped from top to bottom. It’s mute. The 2000 is still a bit loud. But nothing a solid felt pad can’t resolve.

Bottom line: if you’re after that elusive Hermes touch, but are not enchanted by the 3000 design and want a traditional look with some design flair, get the 2000. You’ll probably save some bucks, as well.

I started composing a reply to comment made in a post recently, but it was such a thought provoking comment that I decided a full-blown post was in order! If you’re a regular follower of my blog, perhaps you’ve been wondering what has happened to my usual steady stream of reviews. I must admit writing has taken me in other directions, plus my well is running dry of typewriters to review!

Sure, there are uncovered jewels to mine, but since I’m not a collector, my focus has been highlighting the common varieties that can be handily obtained without much fuss for writers. After all, that’s why we’re getting a typewriter, right? To write!

Someone suggested I review what’s called the “standard” size typewriter. There is a case to be made that the standard is a superior machine. And for good reason! They were made to perform under the daily pounding of thousands of words of memos, reports and letters, without causing strain or injury to the typist. They needed to be swift, certain and reliable.

I won’t disagree.

However, many of us are mail order constrained. Meaning the bulkier machines cost more to ship and unless they’re packed correctly, may suffer catastrophic consequences. Moreover, the good portables I’ve found usually come from someone who has nurtured and cared for the machine through the decades. They’ve kept it in a closet, well protected and away from the elements. Besides a term paper or two, it might’ve not even seen much use. Since the standard machine often came from the office, it didn’t quite imbue the owner with as much pride of ownership. My advice: find a local machine and try it out!

But that’s not what this post is about! The comment I was responding to came from “loadedremington” in the post “Why Every Writer Needs a Typewriter.” (By the way, loadedremington, whoever you are, love the moniker and you rock that bow tie!) He said, “Seldom do you encounter something that defines you as a person the way these wonderful machines do…they are an extension of my soul.”

Good news, pilgrim, the Rubicon has been crossed, the Red Sea has parted, Beyonce has been blessed with twins. There’s a reason for this discovery. It’s no accident. You’ve found your muse!

The real secret to a typewriter, the thing you’ll rarely hear discussed for fear that once revealed will disappear, but which you alluded to by writing, “they are an extension of my soul,” is that little creature called the muse.

Many of us are too busy to take notice. Distracted by bits and bytes, our soul disintegrates as if in the Matrix. It’s a fickle creature and like many writers, a bit shy and withdrawn.

But don’t confuse this with being meek.

For once she, or he, finds a home. A REAL home. A place with comfortable boundaries. A place well cared for and loved. She, I’ll call her she, she’s a she to me, is a powerful ally in your creative campaign. But don’t expect her to magically appear once you get a typewriter.

She needs some coaxing and shown that you’re ready to commit to a long-term relationship. Make your writing sessions short at first. Get a feel for writing unplugged. Find the right typewriter. One that fits the eye and the fingers. If you don’t love your machine, neither will your muse.

Since high school I wrote on a computer and I can honestly say I didn’t find my true voice until I started writing on a typewriter some 25 years later. Once you let go and open yourself to the possibility of a magical helper, you’ll tap into a divine experience. But it takes a real willingness to truly let go.

Once you let go of doubt and censure, and just write, she’ll creep in. You might not even notice her at first. Write a page or two, letting your thoughts go, letting go of mistakes and word choices. Do this everyday. Tuck the page(s) in a folder. Don’t read them. Don’t edit them. Just let them steep. Return to them in a week or even a month. That tingle you get in your spine is your muse tickling your soul. They’re your words, but somehow not. It’s not all gold, but amongst the rubble are some nuggets.

This transformation is not possible on a computer. Sure, you’ll turn out acceptable stuff, and with enough edits and feedback, you’ll approach something worthy. But somewhere in this computerized process exists an emptiness. It might even feel sanitized. Writing is messy. Living is even messier. And once you stumble through it with abandon, you’ll find your legs and your true path.

Don’t ditch the computer. Use it for what it’s good at: Polishing your words. Putting the manuscript together. Use the typewriter for strengthening your voice, finding it, nurturing it, exploring and getting messy.

If you’ve had a similar experience, please share your thoughts! No worries, your muse won’t mind, and it’s no shame admitting you have a magical helper!

Or if you just want to weigh in on standard vs. portable, that’s OK too.

Olympia SM3 DeLuxe (1955)

The Olympia SM3 is a reliable workhorse, from a solid body construction to keys that provide good response and feedback.  When you first sit at this thing, you marvel at the beauty and how it exudes a certain egalitarian work ethic. These machines were meant for typing — lots of typing. Rolling paper in for the first time, a reassuring clicking sound is made, like loading a weapon for words. The platen moves with rigid precision. There is no slop.

The shift mechanism lifts the entire carriage, which at first, seems a bit heavy, especially if you don’t have meaty fingers. But it seems to swing up on its own momentum, and then gravity takes care of the trip down. One of the common complaints with this type of mechanism on the SM3 line, is that after time, the feet the carriage rest on, slide a bit, thus making the upper and lower case go out of alignment. The lowercase adjustment is fairly easy by sliding the metal foot by loosening a screw. However, the shifted position, has a tricky little screw that acts as a stop. Raising and lowering this, will give you the proper alignment. [ Fix Details ]. Another item that goes out of adjustment are the carriage rails. This adjustment affects the descenders on lower case letters. Often, on this line of Olympias, they become faint. Playing with the rail position is often a quick fix. (For review of all carriage issues, with images, check this post out.)

But a properly adjusted SM3 produces consistently bright type across the alphabet, and type that is aligned.  It has spring loaded keys, which may explain why it produces such consistent results. Part of the key strike is done by the machine, or so it feels.

Margin settings are quite easy with an adjustable slider. Just a simple squeeze and slide. The tab stops on the DeLuxe model are on the back of the carriage.  Not the most convenient spot, but how often do you need to redo these on a manuscript?

Loading ribbons is a bit tricky. It needs to go behind the ribbon guide, then up and through a couple hooked slots on the ribbon holder. Unless you have good lighting, this can be a bit frustrating. Expect ink stained fingers and a little practice.

The key tops feel rounded and slick. They have just the right amount of concave to them, which makes a nice fit for your fingers, giving you a reassuring feel they’ll not slip off.

The shift-lock is a bit hard to get into position and also to release. Once it’s locked, it’s locked. It makes a nice solid noise when it locks.

The paint and finish are matte colors. In addition to the more common green, it comes in burgundy,  brown, gray and two-tone. The surface has a nice pebbly feel to it and seems to repel stains.

The carriage return lever has a nice contour to it, so a variety of hands can find the sweet spot. The carriage returns easily and advances the paper with precision. Each line is consistently spaced with the previous one. The margin bell makes a nice bright sound. Ding!

When storing the SM3, there’s two slots on the rear of the typewriter that fit into corresponding tabs inside the case. The unit is then locked into place with a forward mechanism. There’e a carriage lock on the upper left of the keyboard for added protection. When all is locked and set, you get a good secure feeling knowing your typewriter is safe. The space age shell of a case for the DeLuxe model reminds you of the rocket age when these were first introduced.

Overall, typing is a real pleasure with this typewriter. It makes you want to type and type and type. About the only ink stain is the heavy carriage shift.

Demo:

How to fix the carriage from rubbing on the frame: