A writing room · no wire at all
Just you and the page.
A typewriter that is only a typewriter: a sheet, a quiet row of meters, and nothing else asking for your attention. The page loads and then contacts nothing — every sheet lives in this browser and nowhere else, autosaved as you type, exported with one press when you want it out.
The drawer
Every sheet you have kept.
Autosaved copies of everything written in this room — named by their first line, newest on top. They exist in this browser’s own storage and nowhere else, which cuts both ways: nothing leaves the machine, and clearing the browser’s site data empties the drawer. Export what matters.
Method
What this room does, exactly.
No wire, and no clever surface
After it loads, this page makes no network requests: no
sync, no account, no analytics on what or how much you
write. The sheet is a plain <textarea>
on purpose — native undo, native spell-check, native
cursor and selection, sane under a screen reader. The
meters, the autosave and the drawer all watch it from
outside; nothing rewrites what you typed.
Autosave runs 600 ms after your last keystroke, into
localStorage. The status line under the
meters tells the truth about it — including the rare
browser that refuses storage, where the room still works
and the line says plainly that nothing is being kept.
The meters’ arithmetic
Words are runs of non-space characters. Reading time is measured at 238 words a minute — the mean silent-reading rate for adults reading English non-fiction in the 2019 Brysbaert meta-analysis — and speaking time at 150, the common professional narration rate. They are estimates of an average reader, stated so you know whose.
Exports are the sheet’s bytes, untouched: .txt and .md are the same text under two names (this room does not convert anything), PRINT lays the text alone on paper with everything else hidden, and COPY ALL is exactly that. The drawer’s delete really deletes — the sheet exists nowhere else, and the confirm says so.