By Erica Hanger
In today’s world, it feels like everything is designed to be more connected, but not necessarily more meaningful. As writers, we constantly juggle the demands of productivity, technology, and staying focused. A few years ago, my gal pals complained about how difficult it was forging friendships as newcomers to Denver. Sure, there are meetups, community classes, or simply pursuing real-life hobbies, but striking up conversations with strangers can be intimidating (especially for my fellow introverts, I see you).
So one “crafternoon,” I got my 1976 Gabriele typewriter (I call her Gabby) out, and with the hammer of keys, I created conversation starters, with a few cheesy pickup lines thrown in the mix. The task was to build confidence and empower my friends to talk to strangers at a bar or in a public space with crib sheets of witty one-liners in hand.
When I provided my friends the fortune cookie-sized conversation starters, they laughed. They were open to testing this method in hopes of it leading to more organic conversation. They mustered up the courage to talk to strangers, typewritten conversation starters in hand, and I witnessed these strangers raise their eyebrows and instant laughter with every engagement.
Laughter is a powerful way to build connection and rapport, reinforcing its authenticity, and what could be more authentic than typewritten notes? Bumble BFF? I don’t think so. There is much beauty in the lost art of the analog.
In an era where technology promises to “simplify” everything with cloud saving and invasive AI tools, writers are increasingly turning away from – or at least growing skeptical towards – modern word processing software and other digital office programs.
Take Microsoft Word, for instance. Since its introduction in 1983, Word has evolved from a straightforward text editor into a complex suite of tools. The software now includes features like:
- Real-time collaboration tools that require constant internet connectivity
- AI-powered writing suggestions and grammar-checking, with their “copilot” AI being forced into just about everything.
- Complex formatting options that often override user preferences
- Integration with Microsoft’s broader ecosystem of products
Most recently, Google hamfistedly bundled its AI assistant “Gemini” into Google Workspace, much to the evident dismay of customers.
While these features are marketed as improvements, they often create barriers between writers and their work, introducing unnecessary complexity into what should be a simple process of putting words on a page.
This exodus isn’t just driven by mere nostalgia—it’s a response to genuine concerns about how contemporary writing tools affect both the creative process, the writer’s autonomy, and human connection.
The Attention Economy’s Invasion of Writing Space
Modern word processors, like most contemporary internet spaces, have become battlegrounds for our attention.
Experts speculate on how this constant barrage of memes, videos, and agitprop will impact the human attention span, with psychologist and author Dr. Gloria Mark stating the average attention span has dropped from 2.5 minutes in 2004 to just 47 seconds in 2023. Thus, uninterrupted deep focus time in a word processor is a highly sought-after well of attention to tap. What started as simple digital writing tools have evolved into complex ecosystems of notifications, suggestions, and “helpful” features that often interrupt rather than enhance the writing flow.
The modern writing environment has become a cacophony of digital interruptions. Cloud-based applications bombard users with an endless stream of notifications about document updates, sharing requests, and collaborative changes. Meanwhile, AI-powered writing assistants and grammar checkers paint our documents with colorful underlines and pop-up suggestions, fragmenting our attention with each keystroke. The integration of client emails and productivity suites further compounds this issue, transforming what should be a focused writing space into a hub of constant connectivity. These interruptions don’t just break concentration – they fundamentally alter the writing process, replacing deep, sustained thought with fragmented, reactive responses to digital prompts.
While these distractions pull us away from the act of writing itself, they also raise bigger questions about what happens to our work once we’re done.
This constant barrage of interruptions not only fragments our attention but fundamentally alters how we approach the writing process, turning what should be a focused creative endeavor into a multitasking challenge.
As writing software becomes increasingly connected, privacy concerns have moved to the forefront.
Many writers find themselves caught in a troubling paradox: the very tools meant to aid their work are simultaneously monitoring and potentially compromising their creative process and many tools have only gotten less efficient as they try to monetize them more and more.
Automatic cloud synchronization means drafts are instantly uploaded to remote servers. Automatic cloud synchronization, while marketed as a convenience feature, represents a significant shift in how our writing is stored and managed. When you type in modern word processors like Microsoft Word or Google Docs, every keystroke is automatically saved and uploaded to remote servers, often without explicit user consent or awareness. This means your drafts, personal thoughts, and creative works exist not just on your local device, but on corporate servers where they could potentially be accessed, analyzed, or compromised.
This constant synchronization also raises questions about data ownership and creative privacy. Writers lose direct control over their work’s storage location, and even “deleted” documents may persist in cloud backups. While cloud sync offers benefits like backup protection and cross-device access, it comes at the cost of reduced privacy and autonomy over one’s written work.
Usage analytics in modern word processors go far beyond simple metrics like word count or document length. These tools track intricate patterns such as writing speed, editing frequency, common word choices, and even the times of day when users are most active. While this data collection is often justified as necessary for improving user experience and providing personalized suggestions, it raises serious privacy concerns. Writers may find their creative patterns being analyzed, categorized, and potentially used for purposes beyond their control or consent. This level of behavioral tracking transforms what should be a private creative space into a monitored environment where every keystroke contributes to a detailed profile of the writer’s habits and preferences.
AI-powered features in modern word processors, while promising enhanced writing capabilities, come with significant privacy implications. When writers use AI-assisted grammar checking, style suggestions, or content generation tools, their text is transmitted to external servers for processing. This means that potentially sensitive or confidential writing must leave the local device to be analyzed by AI models. While companies like Microsoft have addressed concerns about data usage, the fundamental reality remains: AI assistance requires surrendering some degree of privacy and control over our written content.
This growing disillusionment with modern word processors has sparked a renaissance in alternative writing tools, each offering unique solutions to these contemporary challenges.
The Rise of Alternative Writing Tools
In response to these challenges, writers are exploring a diverse range of alternatives that prioritize focus and privacy, not to mention the human element (and error) with alternative writing devices.
The resurgence of typewriters are catalysts for meaningful moments and lasting memories in our world of fleeting digital interactions, offering:
- Complete disconnection from digital distractions. The only copilot here is your iced coffee.
- Absolute privacy – no cloud sync, no data collection.
- A tactile, immersive writing experience. There’s nothing better than the clink of the bell and the zip of the carriage.
- Humor and beauty in imperfections (no Grammarly to help you). Get ready to remember the exceptions to “I before E except after C” and other wonderful inconsistencies of the English language.
There’s something magical about the mechanical dance of keys striking paper that no digital device can replicate. Whether I’m typing wedding vows for friends, conversation starters, or crafting stories in a Scottish highland cottage, Gabby helps me create tangible memories in an increasingly virtual world.
The rhythmic clicking of keys serves as a reminder to slow down, be present, and appreciate the beauty of imperfection in both life and writing.
This nostalgia-driven trend appears to be catching on with a new generation, as younger users discover the unique appeal of analog writing tools through contemporary media and cultural references. Jenny Ortega’s Wednesday Addams used a typewriter, after all. The intersection of vintage technology and modern pop culture has created an unexpected bridge between generations.
Sarah Everett, host of the YouTube channel Just My Typewriter and world’s foremost expert in Barbie Typewriters, agrees.
“Having sold [typewriters] for the past five or so years, I’m noticing that most of my sales go to the parents or grandparents of younger users (9-16yrs old),” she told Typebar Magazine via email.
Even specialized devices like the Freewrite and BYOK (the latter of which recently raised over $350,000 on Kickstarter against a goal of just $5,000) represent a middle ground. These specialized writing devices, originating from portable word processing hardware like 2007’s beloved AlphaSmart Neo 2, strike a delicate balance between digital convenience and focused composition. By combining modern technology like E-ink displays with intentionally limited functionality, they create an environment where writers can leverage the benefits of digital text, like easy editing and cloud backup while maintaining the distraction-free essence of traditional writing tools. The absence of notifications, web browsers, and unnecessary features helps writers maintain their creative flow, while the electronic paper display provides a reading experience that’s gentler on the eyes during extended writing sessions. This hybrid approach appeals to writers who want to escape the overwhelming complexity of full-featured word processors without completely abandoning the conveniences of digital writing.
A new wave of writing applications such as FocusWriter have emerged, too, prioritizing simplicity over feature overload. These minimalist tools strip away unnecessary complexities, offering writers a clean canvas for their thoughts. By providing distraction-free interfaces and optional offline modes, they create an environment where writers can focus solely on their craft. Basic formatting options remain available but are implemented thoughtfully to avoid disrupting the creative flow. This back-to-basics approach represents a conscious rejection of the bloated interfaces and constant connectivity that characterize traditional word processors, allowing writers to reclaim the purity of the writing experience. Though for people who love distraction but not the hostile nature of modern word processing apps, there’s always StimuWrite 2 – a simple word processing app with customizable visual and audio effects with none of the baggage of modern software from Microsoft or Google.
These minimalist solutions represent a growing recognition that in writing software, less can often be more, leading many to question the true value of feature-rich word processors.
Modern word processors have become victims of feature creep, with each update adding new layers of complexity. Writers report spending more time fighting with formatting than actually writing. The cognitive load of managing these features can disrupt the creative process, leading many to seek simpler alternatives.
Are these writing tools elevating our writing or making us lazy where creativity gets lost in the ether of AI?
Consider this real-world scenario: A novelist working on her manuscript in Microsoft Word suddenly finds her flow interrupted when the software automatically converts her em dashes to hyperlinks. As she attempts to fix this, the auto-formatting feature continues to override her corrections. She opens the settings menu to disable this feature but gets lost in a labyrinth of options spread across multiple tabs. Twenty minutes later, she’s still hunting through menus, her creative momentum completely derailed. By the time she finally resolves the issue, the vivid scene she was crafting has faded from her mind. Then the AI chatbot forced into the program says she should make her characters cook pizzas with glue for sauce.
This isn’t just about a minor formatting annoyance, it’s about how modern software’s complexity can create significant barriers to creative expression. What should have been a seamless writing session turned into a technical troubleshooting exercise, demonstrating how feature-rich environments can actively work against the creative process.
The movement away from conventional word processors signals a broader shift in how we think about writing tools. Writers are increasingly prioritizing focus, privacy, and simplicity over feature-rich but distracting software. This trend suggests that the future of writing tools may lie not in adding more features, but in creating spaces where writers can simply write.
As we continue to grapple with digital distraction and privacy concerns, the appeal of alternative writing tools is likely to grow. Whether through mechanical typewriters, specialized digital devices, or streamlined software, writers are reclaiming their creative integrity from the complexity of modern word processors – and it’s about time.
