On an actual typewriter, backspace just moves the head one character backwards. It doesn't inherently erase anything
But if you do want to actually erase text, there still is a way - many typewriters had multiple ink ribbons. In addition to black, you might have red for indicating deficits in accounting, or for erasing text you'd have a white ribbon.
So "erasing" on a typewriter is basically just typing the same text over the top again, this time in white so it doesn't show against the paper.
Yup, in the working world it was not unusual for secretarial professionals to be expected to turn out a perfect page every time or redo it until it was perfect.
When I was younger, I once worked with a professional secretary. She could touch-type accurately like a speed demon, and she could take shorthand. This was in the days before corporate email, so everything was done using interoffice memos, and she was worth her weight in gold.
I wish I learned shorthand (such as teeline) while I still had the time/energy to learn it. I'm sure technology like Siri will put an end to that.
Tipp-Ex is [was] your friend. First in a pot with a little brush on a stem, then later on paper strips -- you'd backspace over the typo, insert a sheet of Tipp-Ex paper between the ribbon and the page, and hit the same letter again. Which would mash a bunch of white paint over it, upon which you could then type the correct character.
It is probably quite rare already, and getting more so, but if you had to work with an older content creator that felt most comfortable using their trusted mechanical typewriter, this might actually be useful.
My impression (based on long acquaintance with a whole bunch of them) is that most "older content creators" either write long-hand then copy-type on a word processor, or adopted word processing as their primary input mechanism with shrieks of glee in the 1980s. The ones who still insist on using a manual typewriter are eccentrics, or jerking your chain.
Manual typewriters were pigs. They take a lot of effort to operate and produce very uneven impressions on the page. Because it's a mechanical lever system, they have a very long key depression -- typically 2-3 centimetres. Ever trapped your pinkie under the (sharp) rim of an adjacent key? If you're not a very precise typist it happens every few minutes on a manual typewriter. Because of the effort involved in hammering the keys, and the fun of trying to clear the frequent key jams you experience if you type too fast -- the type arms need to have time between keystrokes in which to fall away from the platen; if you type too fast you end up jamming them together -- it's very difficult to attain the same typing speed on a manual typewriter as on an electric model of any kind (except for the early, insanely slow, daisy wheel machines) and you end up with sore, inky fingers.
A Model M feels nothing like a manual typewriter. Trust me on this. (I own a Model M, and wrote my first million words on a manual typewriter, until the keys began snapping from metal fatigue.)
Having said that, the Model M does feel similar to the classic IBM Selectric golf-ball typewriter, which was actually a whole lot more user-friendly than any manual device (although it guzzled electricity, hummed loudly, and took a hand-cart to move around).
The one thing the M doesn't convey of the total Selectric experience was the immediate and alarming belief that, after every keystroke, the typewriter had launched itself an inch forward (no mean trick considering how heavy they are!). They usually didn't do this, but I've never had that 'did I just stick my finger into a bear trap?' feeling with anything else, even other electric typewriters.
The observer, of middle 20th century American desks, might think that the solid oak frame and general bombproofedness is at attempt to convey solidity in the person behind the desk, a psychological trick. They may be that, but they are also built the way they are because people typed on them with these things, and lightly built IKEA desks could very easily shake themselves to bits. I recall a story involving a typewriter lift in the side of one of these desks, of US Navy vintage, whose massive spring was calibrated for some ridiculously heavy typewriter--possibly a Selectric. When the typewriter itself was on the platform, it rose smoothly and gradually to a working height. When the platform was unloaded or loaded with, as I recall, a CD collection, the right word for what happens next unless you are extremely careful is "catapult" or possibly "major concussion and several months worth of dental work".
No keyboard has ever even loosely approximated this unless it was also connected to a typewriter (the TTYs and whatnot). Which, on balance, is probably a good thing.
