Finding Typewriter Focus Without the Typewriter

Writing in the Digital Age

The 21st Century Typewriter: How I Turned My Laptop Into a Distraction-Free Writing Machine

I'll never forget the first time I watched Joe Van Cleave's YouTube channel, which I’ve linked for you to check out. I highly recommend it.. It was late at night and I'd just finished the California Typewriter documentary. Something about the deliberate click-clack of those mechanical keys, the focused intention of writers who couldn't delete or distract themselves, resonated deeply with me. I wanted that experience. I wanted that focus.

There was just one problem: I didn't own a typewriter, and as someone living with cerebral palsy, I wasn't sure how well I'd manage the substantial key pressure vintage machines require. My hands are fairly strong, but I still was unsure. The closest thing to a manual machine I can remember using was a daisy wheel machine that my great-aunt had when I was growing up in the 90s and early 2000s. I also wasn't ready to invest in a machine I might not use effectively, and with the closest repair shop being in Chicago, I wasn’t sure about the longevity of such a machine in my possession. Further, I was unsure how typecasting would work with my blog format, so I felt more comfortable having a digital input for that reason.

But the core appeal of typewriter writing—the distraction-free focus, the forward momentum, the commitment to words once they're written—that was something I could chase even without the machine itself. I realize there are distraction-free writing devices on the market today—Freewrite comes to mind—but I couldn’t see spending that kind of money right now. With this in mind, I started wondering: could I recreate the typewriter experience on my laptop? Could I strip away the digital conveniences and distractions until what remained was just me and the words?

The answer, I discovered, is yes. With the right approach and tools, you can transform your laptop into my version of what Joe Van Cleave called his "21st century typewriter"—a writing environment that captures the focused, intentional experience of mechanical writing while maintaining the practical advantages of digital text. Today, I want to share how I did it and why it's changed my writing process completely.

Understanding What Makes Typewriters Special

Before we dive into the how, it's important to understand what writers are trying to accomplish with the recent typewriter revival. I wrote an article about it you can check out here. The typewriter writing experience has several key characteristics that make it valuable for first-draft creation:

Complete absence of distraction: When you sit at a typewriter, there's no internet, no notifications, no tabs to check. Writing is the only option available to you.

Commitment to forward momentum: You can't easily delete or rearrange text on a typewriter. This forces you to keep moving forward rather than endlessly revising the same paragraph.

Reduced self-editing during drafting: This is a big one for me. I’m a chronic self-editor. Without spellcheck underlining every typo or grammar-check suggesting alternatives, you focus on getting ideas down rather than perfecting each sentence as you go.

Physical and psychological separation from other tasks: Sitting at a typewriter signals "writing time" in a way that opening your laptop often doesn't. There’s something about the physical act of loading paper into a typewriter, setting your tabs and margins, and setting the carriage at your left margin that sets a creative fire unlike any digital device.

Tactile feedback and deliberate action: Each keystroke requires intention and produces a tangible result. Not only do you hear the letter being printed on the paper, but you feel a response from the keyboard that you don’t get from a laptop.

These aren't just aesthetic preferences. They're practical features that can dramatically improve your drafting speed and creative flow. The challenge is recreating them in a digital environment designed to do exactly the opposite.

The Digital Conveniences That Actually Hurt Your Drafting

Modern word processors are incredibly sophisticated tools. They check your spelling, suggest grammar improvements, auto-correct common mistakes, and offer countless formatting options. For editing and polishing work, these features are invaluable. But during the drafting phase, they can be creative killers.

I realized this watching my writing process. I'd type a sentence, see the red squiggle under a word, stop to correct it, notice the blue line under a phrase suggesting a grammar change, adjust that, then completely lose my train of thought about where the paragraph was going. By the time I'd addressed all the helpful suggestions, my creative momentum was gone.

For someone who deals with anxiety like I do, those constant visual signals of "error" create additional stress during a process that should be about free expression. Every red line feels like a judgment, every suggestion feels like a reminder that what you're writing isn't good enough yet. This is exactly the wrong mindset for first-draft creation.

The same goes for the temptation to constantly revise. Digital writing makes it so easy to highlight a paragraph, move it somewhere else, delete it, rewrite it, and repeat the cycle endlessly. I've spent entire writing sessions moving the same three paragraphs around without adding a single new sentence. That kind of premature editing is the enemy of productive drafting.

Then there are the external distractions. The browser bookmark bar sitting at the top of your screen. The notification that pops up from your email. The Discord message from a friend. The temptation to "quickly research" something that turns into an hour-long Wikipedia spiral. These interruptions fragment your attention and make deep focus nearly impossible.

These "helpful" features and easy distractions add up to an environment that's optimized for everything except the act of sustained creative writing. To capture the typewriter experience, we need to systematically eliminate them.

My Digital Typewriter Setup: The Philosophy

The goal isn't to make digital writing harder for the sake of it—it's to remove the specific obstacles that prevent focused, productive drafting. My approach involves three key strategies:

Create physical and software barriers to distraction: Make it difficult to check email, browse the web, or do anything except write.

Disable editing assistance during drafting: Turn off spellcheck, grammar-check, and auto-correct so you can focus on generating words rather than perfecting them. This was more of a distraction to me than the external distractions.

Use specialized writing software that reinforces focus: Choose tools designed specifically for distraction-free writing rather than general word processors.

The key is understanding that this is a drafting strategy, not a complete writing process. Once you've generated your raw material in typewriter mode, you'll return to all those helpful digital tools for the editing phase. We're not rejecting modern conveniences—we're strategically timing when we use them.

Step One: Disconnect From the Internet

This is the most important and most difficult step, especially for those of us who've grown accustomed to constant connectivity. But it's also the most effective.

During drafting sessions, I completely disconnect my laptop from Wi-Fi. Not just closing the browser—actually turning off the internet connection. This creates a hard barrier between me and every online distraction.

If you need internet access for research, do that before your writing session. Open relevant documents or web pages, save them for offline reading, then disconnect. The research phase and the drafting phase should be separate activities anyway.

For those who resist this idea, I challenge you to try it for just one writing session. Notice how often you instinctively try to look something up or check something online. Each of those impulses represents when you would have broken your creative flow. By removing the possibility, you train yourself to push through those impulses and stay in the writing.

I'll admit this was hard for me at first. My anxiety often manifests as a need to verify facts or check references, and not being able to do that felt uncomfortable. But I learned to leave myself notes, usually just typing "[CHECK THIS]" or "[FIND SOURCE]"and moving on. The research can happen later. The drafting needs to happen now.

Step Two: Choose Your Writing Environment

Your choice of writing software matters more than you might think. Standard word processors like Microsoft Word or Google Docs are designed for document creation and formatting, not for focused drafting. They're cluttered with menus, toolbars, and options that constantly pull your attention away from the words.

I've experimented with several distraction-free writing applications, and each has its strengths:

FocusWriter is my current favorite for Windows users. It creates a full-screen writing environment that hides everything except your text. You can customize the appearance—I use a simple dark background with light text that's easy on my eyes during long writing sessions. The gentle typewriter sound effects are optional but surprisingly helpful for creating that mechanical writing atmosphere.

WriteMonkey is another excellent Windows option that's even more minimalist. It's designed specifically for distraction-free writing and includes features like progress tracking and writing goals without cluttering your screen.

Cold Turkey Writer takes the concept to an extreme—once you start a writing session with a word count goal or time limit, it locks you into the program. You literally cannot exit until you've met your goal or the timer expires. This might sound extreme, but for those of us who struggle with self-discipline during creative work, it can be incredibly effective.

For Mac users, IA Writer and Ulysses offer similar distraction-free environments with beautiful, minimalist interfaces.

The key is finding software that gets out of your way. You want something that makes the text the only thing on your screen, with minimal visual clutter and no tempting menus to explore. For Windows users, I’d recommend trying FocusWriter first, then if you want something more minimalist, you can go to WriteMonkey. Mac users might prefer IA Writer for its elegent design, though FocusWriter works great for Mac as well. 

I can’t mention these without bringing up the cost. Some platforms offer free versions, others have free trials before a subscription is required or you must make a one-time purchase. All would be investments, but if distraction-free writing is essential to your process, they might be worth it.

For Windows users, FocusWriter offers all features without a subscription or fee. WriteMonkey has a free version with a $20 optional one time fee to unlock plugins. Cold Turkey Writer has a free version available with a one time $10 fee to unlock the Pro version.

For Mac-specific programs, my research shows that free versions of distraction free writing apps seem to be replaced with a business model that includes free trials followed by either subscription-based payments or onetime purchases. Both IA Writer and Ulysses have 14-day trials before payment is required. After the trial period, IA Writer requires a onetime $50 purchase, while Ulysses offers subscriptions at either $50 per year or $6 per month. Again, likely worth it if you want to prioritize distraction free productivity. But if apps aren’t your thing, Ihave another tip for you.

Step Three: Disable the "Helpful" Features

Once you've chosen your writing environment, it's time to turn off all the features designed to help you write "correctly." This feels counterintuitive at first, but it's essential for replicating the typewriter experience.

Turn off spellcheck: Those red squiggly lines under misspelled words are visual interruptions that break your flow. During drafting, it doesn't matter if you've typed "teh" instead of "the" or misspelled someone's name. You can fix all of that later. Right now, you need to get ideas down. I’ve also discovered turning off this feature has improved my natural spelling ability, something I always had but lost confidence in as checkers became more widely used.

Disable grammar-check: The blue or green lines suggesting grammar improvements are even more distracting than spellcheck because they often trigger that internal editor voice telling you to fix things before you move forward. Silence that voice during drafting. Similar to the spell check discovery, I find my grammar has improved to pre-checker levels since adapting this drafting strategy.

Turn off auto-correct: While auto-correct seems helpful, it can actually create problems during creative writing. It might change words you intentionally spelled in non-standard ways, interrupt your flow with suggestions, or make assumptions about what you meant to type. Let yourself make mistakes. They're easy to fix later. Particularly when writing fantasy and science fiction, auto-correct can be more annoying than helpful. I ran into that while drafting a fantasy project I’ve been working on. The red line every time I typed the name of the main location was annoying and mildly discouraging, and it was one of the bigger prompts of my decision to disable the checkers.

Hide word count (sometimes): Depending on your personality, visible word counts can either motivate or intimidate. If seeing that you've only written 200 words makes you feel discouraged, hide the counter. If seeing progress motivates you, keep it visible but in a subtle location. For me, it depends on the day. Some days, I’ll look at the counter and see I’ve written 1,000 words and be super motivated. Other days, when it’s not going so well, I look and see half that or less and I’m like, “What the hell am I doing?” On those days I turn it off. Word counts are arbitrary anyway. 

For me, turning off these features was revelatory. Without the constant visual feedback about errors, I found myself writing faster and with more confidence. I trusted my ability to spell and form sentences well enough for a first draft, and I stopped second-guessing every word choice.

There's a psychological benefit here too. When you're not seeing constant red and blue lines, your writing doesn't look like a mess of errors—it looks like progress. This is especially important for writers like me who deal with anxiety or perfectionist tendencies. The visual simplicity creates mental simplicity.

Step Four: Embrace the Typewriter Mindset

The tools and settings are just the framework. The real transformation happens when you adopt the mindset that makes typewriter writing effective.

Write forward, not backward: When you make a mistake or write something clunky, resist the urge to go back and fix it immediately. Put a quick note to yourself if needed—I use brackets like [REWRITE THIS]—but keep your cursor moving forward. You can always revise later, but you can't revise a blank page.

Trust your first draft to be imperfect: This is perhaps the hardest lesson for many writers. Your first draft is supposed to be rough. It's raw material, not a finished product. Give yourself permission to write badly, knowing that the editing phase exists specifically to transform that raw material into something polished.

Set a minimum before you edit: I have a personal rule: I don't go back to edit anything until I've written at least 500 words in a session. This forces me to generate material before I perfect it. Your minimum might be different—maybe 300 words, maybe 1,000—but having a threshold helps prevent premature editing.

Use session-based writing: Rather than leaving a document open all day and writing sporadically, I do focused writing sessions with obvious start and end times. During that 60 or 90 minutes, writing is the only task. This mimics the way typewriter writing naturally creates dedicated writing time because the machine isn't used for other tasks.

Accept typos and awkward phrasing: On a typewriter, fixing mistakes requires correction fluid or retyping entire pages. The friction is high enough that writers learn to live with imperfection in early drafts. Digitally, we need to deliberately cultivate that same tolerance for imperfection.

This mindset shift has been as important as any tool or setting change. I've learned to separate my creative brain from my critical brain, giving each its own dedicated time and space. The creative brain gets the drafting sessions with no editing allowed. The critical brain gets the revision sessions after the raw material exists.

Step Five: The Editing Phase Returns Digital Convenience

Here's the beautiful part: after you've drafted in typewriter mode, you get to bring back all those helpful digital features for the editing phase. This is where spell-check, grammar suggestions, and easy rearranging of text become valuable rather than distracting.

My typical workflow now looks like this:

Drafting session (typewriter mode): Internet off, spellcheck disabled, distraction-free software, focused writing until I hit my word count goal or time limit.

Break: I step away from the computer, take a walk, have coffee or a bite to eat, and let my brain shift gears.

Editing session (full digital mode): Internet on (for fact-checking and research), spell-check enabled, grammar suggestions welcomed, document formatting tools available. Now I transform that rough draft into something publishable.

This two-phase approach combines the best of both worlds. I get the focus and momentum of typewriter-style drafting, plus the convenience and polish of digital editing. The result is faster, more confident writing that still meets high quality standards.

Practical Benefits I've Experienced

Since adopting this approach, my writing process has transformed. I'm producing first drafts faster—typically 1,000-1,500 words per focused hour compared to 500-700 before. The words themselves aren't better in rough form, but I'm generating more material to work with.

My anxiety during writing has decreased significantly. Without the constant visual feedback of errors, I'm not fighting that internal voice telling me everything I write is wrong. I trust the process more because I've separated creation from criticism.

I'm also experiencing fewer instances of writer's block. When you can't stop to fiddle with what you've already written, the only option is to keep moving forward. That forward momentum builds its own energy. Many times, I've written through a stuck point simply because going back wasn't an option, and discovered that the solution was on the other side of the difficulty.

The quality of my final work hasn't suffered—if anything, it's improved. Because I'm generating more raw material in the drafting phase, I have more options to choose from during editing. I'm less likely to cling to awkward phrasing simply because it took me so long to write. I can cut more aggressively because I know generating replacement text won't be difficult.

Adapting the System to Your Needs

Your ideal 21st century typewriter setup might look different from mine. The key is identifying which specific aspects of modern digital writing interfere with your creative process, then systematically removing them.

If you find that formatting options distract you, use software that hides them completely. If social media is your biggest distraction, try website blockers like Freedom or Cold Turkey during writing sessions. If you're tempted to endlessly rearrange paragraphs, force yourself to write in a linear document where you can't easily move text around until the editing phase.

For writers with different accessibility needs, this approach can be customized. If you rely on certain assistive technologies, keep those active while disabling the features that interfere with your flow. If typing is difficult, you might use voice-to-text during drafting while still maintaining the principle of forward momentum without editing. I actually used voice typing to cure writer’s block during one recent session. I’ll probably write about that in detail in the future.

The underlying philosophy remains the same regardless of specific tools: create an environment that makes distraction difficult and forward progress easy.

When Not to Use Typewriter Mode

This approach isn't appropriate for every writing task. I don't use typewriter mode for:

Writing that requires frequent reference to sources: If I'm writing something research-heavy that needs constant fact-checking, I keep internet access available.

Collaborative writing projects: When I need to integrate feedback or work with others in real-time, full digital functionality is necessary.

Final polish work: The last stages of revision benefit from all the formatting, suggestion, and editing tools available in modern word processors.

Writing with tight deadlines: Sometimes you need to draft and edit simultaneously because there's no time for multiple passes. That's when the convenience of immediate editing is worth the distraction cost.

The key is being intentional about which mode you're in and why. Don't default to constant connectivity and every feature enabled just because that's how your computer is set up. Choose your tools deliberately based on what phase of writing you're in.

The Accessibility Consideration

As someone with cerebral palsy, I've found this approach surprisingly beneficial from an accessibility standpoint. While vintage typewriters might be physically challenging for me to use, creating a simplified digital environment actually makes writing easier rather than harder.

Without spellcheck constantly flagging words, I'm not fighting with my sometimes-imprecise typing. I can focus on the ideas rather than the mechanics. The reduced visual clutter makes it easier to track where I am in a document. The emphasis on forward momentum rather than precision means my physical limitations during typing become less significant.

This is worth noting because accessibility and focus strategies often work together rather than against each other. Removing distractions benefits not just writers seeking focus, but also writers who need simpler, clearer interfaces for physical or cognitive reasons.

Building the Habit

Like any significant change to your creative process, adopting typewriter-mode writing takes practice and adjustment. I recommend starting with one focused writing session per week using these principles, gradually increasing as the approach becomes more comfortable.

Set realistic expectations. Your first few sessions might feel frustrating, especially if you're used to constant editing and internet access. Give yourself permission to struggle with the transition. The payoff comes after you've built the habit and trained your brain to work in this more focused way.

Track your progress not by the quality of what you produce but by your ability to maintain focus and forward momentum. Celebrate writing sessions where you stayed in the flow state, even if the resulting text needs significant revision. The skill you're building is sustained creative focus, and that's valuable regardless of any individual session's output.

Conclusion: The Best of Both Worlds

The typewriter revival has taught us valuable lessons about focus, intention, and the relationship between our tools and our creative process. But we don't have to choose between the focus of analog writing and the convenience of digital technology.

By thoughtfully configuring our digital writing environments to emphasize the strengths of typewriter writing—distraction-free focus, forward momentum, commitment to drafting without premature editing—we can capture that deliberate, productive experience while maintaining the practical benefits of working digitally.

My laptop has become my 21st century typewriter, a tool that supports focused creative work rather than fragmenting my attention. It's allowed me to write more consistently, be more confident and productive than ever before. The setup takes just a few minutes, costs nothing, and transforms the writing experience dramatically.

I still appreciate the romance and appeal of vintage typewriters. I still watch Joe Van Cleave's videos and admire the mechanical beauty of those machines. But I've discovered that the essence of what makes typewriter writing valuable isn't the machine itself—it's the focused, intentional approach to creating first drafts.

And that, thankfully, we can recreate with nothing more than a laptop and the willingness to strip away digital distractions.

What aspects of modern digital writing do you find most distracting? Have you experimented with any distraction-free writing tools or methods? I'd love to hear about your experiences with finding focus in our hyper-connected world. Leave your thoughts in the comments below or reach out through my contact page—I'm always interested in discussing the tools and techniques that shape our creative practices.

If you found this approach helpful, you might also enjoy my posts about midnight journaling, managing distractions in the creative process, and how hobbies outside of writing fuel our creative work. Each explores different aspects of building a sustainable, focused writing practice in our modern world.