Computers have ruined the ceremony of writer's block. I've had a few friends suffer from this creative constipation, but I've secretly assumed that they're spending more time pacing around the room with cigarettes and bourbon than performing actual nose-to-grindstone thinking. This sort of antic looks much better when you're committing these acts of drama in front of one of these, especially with the added benefit of violent paper ripping, crumbling and cartridge advancing.
Sitting down with a 1932 Royal Woody (oh, stop, I didn't mean it that way) might even help open the intellectual flood gates. Ernest pounded out "Death in the Afternoon", "Green Hills of Africa", "To Have and Have Not", "The Snows of Kilimanjaro", "For Whom the Bell Tolls", "The Short Happy Life of Francis Mancomber", among others on his less fancy Royal Quiet Delux. (All factoids and photos courtesy Mr. Typewriter).
Hemingway's writing desk and Royal portable in his home in Key West (photo courtesy MrTypewriter)