Today we’d like to introduce you to Sh’Kia Augustin And Q El Crosby.
Hi Sh’Kia Augustin and, please kick things off for us with an introduction to yourself and your story.
Q and I have been in a writer’s group together ever since we met at In the Cut’s Writers’ Retreat in 2022. It was hot as hell in Palm Springs, and I was new to L.A.—eager to meet like-minded souls.
I’d like to think we vibed almost instantly. Something about our spirits just synced.
Q came to me with an idea to channel our creative energy into something more fulfilling. Honestly, writing pilots with no pick-ups or staffing opportunities was starting to take a toll, not just on us, but on many of our writer friends, too. We needed another outlet. We needed to feel like our words were being read.
We both hopped on Substack, thinking that would be it.
But really, it was just the beginning.
As a serial entrepreneur, I’m always ready to try something that lets me express myself creatively. I want the words out of my head and onto the page and from the page into your head. That’s how it should go if you’re a writer, right?
Then Q said it:
“Typewriter Poets.”
She dangled the phrase in front of me like an offering. I had never heard of it before. Was honestly fearful of the entire idea.
But then a lightbulb went off.
My grandmother, Eunice Alberta Reed—a.k.a. Ms. Mubby—bought me my first typewriter when I was in middle school.
She was old-school down to the T.
I called her Mama, but to the neighborhood, she was Ms. Mubby. She was the youth advisor for our local Baptist church and made sure me, and every other kid in that building, was using their gifts for the Lord, not the streets.
After school, we went straight to church.
She encouraged me to sing.
To perform in the plays.
Well, not encouraged.
More like:
“Girl, get up on that stage and sing for the Lord. He gave you a gift, and you bettah use it befo’ He take it from you.”
So I did.
If it wasn’t for her constant push and her unwavering faith in me, I wouldn’t be the artist I am today.
When she bought me that typewriter, she said she wanted me to learn how to use it. She wanted me to be a poised writer. She wanted me to sound intelligent. To be impressive.
And I wrote on that thing every single day, until it broke.
I don’t know how. I don’t know why. It just did.
We couldn’t afford to get it fixed, so that was the end.
Or so I thought.
I kept writing.
On notepads.
In notebooks.
On my laptop.
And now?
I’m a screenwriter, author, blogger, ghostwriter.
I don’t like thinking too hard about big purchases because if I do, I might talk myself out of it. So I go off intuition.
When I started looking for a vintage typewriter, I was nervous about the price. I just had a baby, and I can’t be making big purchases in the name of a “dream,” all willy-nilly.
I scrolled through Facebook Marketplace and saw plenty.
But none of them spoke to me.
Then, around 3 AM, when baby and hubby were asleep, I found her.
The prettiest, most elegant, eloquent-looking tan-cream 1950s Smith-Corona Silent Super.
The listing had a video: sleek fingers dancing across the keys. Smooth. Precise. It pulled me in. And that’s when I knew… she was mine.
I kept browsing for another day, but that typewriter wouldn’t let me go.
The color. The vibe.
It reminded me of Mama.
Ms. Mubby.
It was her.
Vintage. Classic.
Old soul.
Elegant. Bold. Sassy.
I messaged the seller. She told me the typewriter belonged to her mother, who had passed. She’d had it since the ’80s. She wanted it to have a second life.
And I felt like I was getting a second life, too… my second typewriter.
She was asking $200, which was totally fair, but she accepted my offer of $140. I don’t know if talking about pricing is tacky, but there ya go! Haha! Look here, I was hyped!
That next morning, I hopped in the car with my hubby and baby boy, and we drove 30 minutes to pick her up.
I opened the box.
Ran my fingers across the keys.
I knew I’d made the right choice.
I was starting a new journey, one I knew would be fulfilling.
And the entire time, I had Mama on my mind.
How proud she must be, looking down at me.
Watching me chase my dreams.
Being the artist she nurtured me to be.
So yes…
I named my typewriter after her.
Ms. Mubby.
Vintage. Classic. Eloquent.
Bold. Sassy.
One of a kind.
The woman who saw me, early…
We’re one and the same.
— Sh’Kia
I should have called first.
Nobody wants to drive to West Hollywood in the middle of the day only to find that their destination is closed. This was a spontaneous idea. Sh’Kia had already gotten her typewriter and as I was sending out a crop of emails that I could care less about, I got up from my couch and decided that I should invest more time in the work I actually want to be doing on a Tuesday afternoon.
But when I got to Rees Electronics, the door was closed. And I don’t know why I threw on a sweatsuit on the first 90 degree day in LA, but my crevices were sweating and I didn’t have time for this. This was supposed to be whimsical — I drove down here on a whim — but whimsy rarely involves logistics. This was my fault. I googled their phone number and gave them a call. I heard the ringing and then the shuffling behind the closed door. Oh. I thought to myself, so I am going to get a typewriter today. How much are typewriters anyway?
I want you to mentally step through the door with me in Rees Electronics —close quarters, 80’s mementos, comics, wall to wall vintage typewriters of all shapes, sizes and colors. This is where I met the owner, Helmut Schulze — literary historian, typewriter connoisseur, and a very funny and delightful guy. Really enjoyed my time with him.
We got straight into budget, because vintage ain’t cheap and style will cost you. These babes can cost anywhere from $180 (not those, Helmut says, badly made and hard to fix) to $1,000 (he said nothing about these, guess the price speaks for itself). My sweet spot was in the middle of the spectrum, so he guided me over to where my money made sense.
And sure, I saw lots of machines — but when I saw the blue typewriter and felt her keys, I knew. It was the strip of yellow for me.
I love the color of that one, I say.
Oh, that one is special, Helmut says. It’s the first time we tried a color like that. We painted it in support of Ukraine. He paused. As a German, we’ve learned our lessons. It’s terrible what’s happening over there, you know.
I do know.
That strip of yellow turned an inconsequential color into a political statement. It doesn’t matter if you’re an small typewriter shop in WeHo or a Black girl in the Valley, you can always stand for what you know is right.
That strip of yellow made me call her Sunny. At first, anyway. And then I thought, she’s technically an Italian girl (Olivetti Lettera 31), but she was inspired by Ukraine. So, I turned that Sunny into Sontse — which is the Ukrainian word for “sun”, pronounced [sun-suh].
-Q
Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
I’m not sure what you thought or even what I thought, but learning to write on a typewriter is a huge learning curve and there’s really no eloquent way to do it. In my head, my fingers were gliding along the keys as I was writing my masterpieces first drafts and I was eschewing elegance. Friend, I was not and I still am not. What it currently looks like is me pecking at the the keys with my two pointer fingers ( like a chicken, so chicken fingers?) and hunchbacking at my desk so I can see the words I’m typing clearly. As we typed up our first month’s noncettes, it took many, many drafts for me to even do one correctly.
Once I got better at the typewriting, my printer decided she hated me. No, she actually didn’t want to print on the specialized paper I was loading in her, thank you very much. She sputtered out one branded piece and then sulked. I tried to work with her for hours. She didn’t care. I got super frustrated. I tried to think of alternatives — granted, they were ugly, but we were trying to launch on the June 1 and I thought I could maybe doctor them up???? I texted Sh’Kia an alternative printing option and I will spare you what it looked like and only show her response below. Just know, something has to be REALLY bad for Sh’Kia to shut it down. -Q
When I first got my vintage typewriter, Ms. Mubby, she was a little dusty on the outside. No biggie, I thought, I’ll clean her up. I did my research. Bought all the things: (1) Spray Nine, (2) Rubbing alcohol (meant for the keys only!) But… I was listening to a podcast while cleaning, got distracted, and next thing I know, I’m wiping down the body of the entire typewriter with rubbing alcohol. And Ms. Mubby? She started getting ashier and ashier by the minute. I panicked. Did I ruin her? I was stressed. More Googling. More scrolling. More “how to restore vintage finish” rabbit holes.
Then I found the answer: Daddy Van’s All Natural Beeswax Furniture Polish (body only!) Y’all. When I tell you, Ms. Mubby looks smoother, shinier, and more buttery than ever?! She’s GLEAMING. Clean and classy like she just left a vintage spa day. I even got her a dust cover so she doesn’t have to sit in her case all day, and it’s been working like a charm. Below you’ll find Ms. Mubby go from ashy to buttery baby! -Sh’Kia
Appreciate you sharing that. What else should we know about what you do?
We’re Noncette™, a poetic duo on a mission to bring intentional, hand-typed artistry into community spaces.
A noncette is our signature form: six lines of poetic prose, typed live on vintage typewriters as a personal keepsake. Each one is custom-crafted with love, rhythm, and real-time inspiration.
The first line has 7 words.
The second line holds 7 words.
The third has 3 words.
The fourth line holds 4 words.
The fifth is a deep breath.
The sixth brings us home with 7 words.
Something like this…
“We welcome you to Noncette, dear friend
To read all of our whimsical words
And see us
For who we are
On scripts. In scribbles. In journals. Writing.”
The noncette structure honors our hometown pride: Q is from Chicago – (773) and Sh’Kia is from Oakland, Florida – (407).
We offer our audience the opportunity to experience our poetic inspirations through Substack, featuring daily notes of original poems and weekly posts about our creative journeys (crookeds + straights).
Whether it’s a cultural celebration, local market, wellness retreat, art fair, or storytelling event, we bring our vintage typewriters, Sontse and Ms. Mubby, and set up an interactive poetry station where guests can receive one-of-a-kind, on-demand pieces. All typed on handmade deckled-edge cotton paper.
As writers in the entertainment industry, we hear a thousand versions of “no” very often. Some might find it easier to pack things up and call it quits. We’re most proud of our stick-to-it-iveness. Instead of giving up, we found other avenues to express our creative passions.
And Noncette was born.
Is there a quality that you most attribute to your success?
Intentional. Resourceful. It’s what we do best.
They said the industry was slow, so–
we put our
heads together to color
outside of the lines. Success is redefined.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://noncette.substack.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/noncettepoetry/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61576807450904&mibextid=wwXIfr&mibextid=wwXIfr
- Other: https://noncettepoetry.etsy.com
