Which Tool is More Productive?

I was thinking about this earlier today and thought I'd list which writing tools I've used over the years and which were the most effective:

1. Receipts - At most these tiny scraps of paper are good for writing titles, character names, plot points and premises. I doubt you could write a full book on them. (10 - 50 words)
2. Moleskin Notebook - I've only owned a few of these. They work pretty well when you have an entire scene you want to block out or some snappy, yes, I just said 'snappy', dialogue that you want to get out. (50 - 100 words)
3. Blank White Paper - 8x11 white printing paper has become the bane of my existence. Yes, you can carry out a scene on one, even several. But, damn are they easy to misplace. I won't write on these unless I absolutely have to. I use them to make lists of ideas. (100 words)
4. Electric Typewriter - Used one once and nearly threw it at the wall. Typed only three pages and gave up because the damn thing was out of whack and kept erasing my stuff. (0 words)
5. Legal Pads - If they are the small, spiral ones, I can get a lot of work done. I don't enjoy writing longhand but lately I've been able to attack my stories (10,000 words) at a time with these things.
6. Laptop - So far, on laptops I've had quite a bit of luck. I pounded out one novel.  (90,000 words)
7. Desktop Computer - First novel was written on an Acer Desktop that was very slow. (87,000 words)
8. Tape Recorder - I was able to block out a few scenes from my first novel onto this thing. It helped with dialogue. (10,000 words)
9. Blackberry Phone - Lately, I've been having a great time typing story ideas as well as whole chapter on my blackberry phone. Recently I had to discontinue my service on the phone to get a cheaper plan but I still keep the phone in order to write more books. Its great. It's portable, simple, and I can transfer all the files via USB port. Just like a compact typewriter in your pocket. (30,000 words.)

So what is your most productive writing tool?

A Love Letter to Amazon Kindle

Dearest Kindle,


Many times our paths have crossed...and yet I still don't know how to look at you. You seduce me with your young features. You tantalize me with your sleek design. Oh, how I would feel if I could just hold you in my arms.

And yet, I pause. Some things are just too good to be true. Once, on an otherwise festive night, I had given up on you. Then, like a shot in the dark, catching me completeley off guard; you lowered your price from 399 to 299. I have to admit, I felt my arms loosen, ready for an embrace. But only for a moment. That's what I would give you, dearest kindle. Only moments. For every time I'd find myself crawling in your direction, I'd find portable readers equal, if not better, than your charming looks and exclusive features.

Doubts bubbled in my head, even when you lowered your price again. Then you became slimer, then wider again. Lord knows what I should do with you because you still draw me in.

But then I thought further, and those thoughts led me to concrete conclusions. To break it to you kindly, dear, when, and if, I should travel - I wouldn't be pleased if I was stopped short, taken for a ride, backhanded by my own love affair with you. Why, I could have any book in the world and yet here you would sit, in my palms, on a train, plane, bus, or even short cab fare, and you'd go bust. You'd ignore me even as I would push your buttons. You'd stiff me for the heel I am, because I fell in love with you at one point. How could I go on like that - with a book that breaks?

You spell more trouble for me but there is that slight curiosity that bubbles as well. Would you stay with me for long? Would we last? What if I had lost you? Would I feel robbed of our time together. And worse, what if someone else had gotten a hold of you. You, my potential kindle. Where would I be then?

It was a cheery day, the day I found you had taken the literary cupcake out of many men and women's hands. I'll never forget it. George Orwell, the man who I've only read once, was the man you sneered at the most. His book was 1984, the same year I was born into this world. What a cynically depressing and ironic turn it should be that you would take that gem away from people - my birthright. Can love giveth and taketh away that easily? How can I tolerate this any longer? Many men and women trusted you, provided for you, gave you a home, some by a roaring fire. They should have tossed you into the kindle, kindle. When should I trust you? When should I hold you?

Until I decide what is best for me, I must think of you no longer. Our correspondence might continue on and it might not. The best you can hope to wish from me would be a shorter letter and probably a shorter temperament at that.

Am I still in love with you? I do not know.

Ta-ta, Kindle. May you find your place in the world.

Sincerely,

Roberto
(The man who once fell for you)

"Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood." — George Orwell (1984)