While visiting out-of-state relatives in an internet void, I survived two-and-a-half weeks without connecting to my ‘other life’. Upon returning, we found our internet service provider needed to switch out our modem, extending my agony for another three days. Fine—I had grown accustomed to feeling suspended in anticipation, and used the time to spruce up my WIP. Not only had I revised the first chapter, but I added another 1000 words interspersed throughout the existing 84,000. Not just filler words, but the kind of stuff you write when you haven’t looked at it in weeks, when your perspective is fresh and your characters beg for a little something extra—that bit of emotional edge that crosses over to literary.
Then it happened. The crash.
Normally, I back up everything on an external hard drive, (or in the case of my WIP, at least on a flash drive or my PDA) but, of course, before I could, my computer seized up…the big blue screen overtook me with a wave of nausea. Initially, it was all about denial. Then my husband confirmed it, and so did the Computer Hierarchy. The hard drive crashed, with all my stuff, inaccessibly locked away.
Not too long ago I would have freaked at the thought of loosing MS Money files and pictures, but my first and foremost concern is for those 1000 words. It’s crazy and sobering. How has my life become so wrapped up in a box? So embroiled that a crash feels like a life threatening illness. Yikes, kid, get a grip! And the guilt! Would fellow bloggers think I was ignoring them?
The upside is, I have a good friend who is a computer whiz and seems to feel as if he has some vested interest in my mental/emotional stability, and told me he could fix it—probably…
In the meantime, I’ve learned that I CAN do something other that type and read other peoples’ blogs. I sewed a slip cover, made lovely complementary pillows, and altered a pretty linen dress with a bateau neck and mother of pearl buttons down the back (it’s been waiting for 4 years). The most shocking thing I did, (and I say shocking because it’s quite out of what has become my character), was to invite a ten year-old to my house for the afternoon. (Admittedly, she is more like a mini adult than a kid). We cut lavender in my garden, strung up the stems for drying, and then made an antique lace sachet for when the buds are dried. Not only that, I got out my watercolors and we painted a vase of them!
I was so inspired that I took a long look at one of my watercolor works-in-progress and actually gave some thought to what layer I would next wash over it.
During all that, my husband (now realizing that the computer has kept me pharmaceutically free for the past few years) researched and purchased a laptop, which I am writing on, right now. I anticipate that it will save me when we return to visit family in October, but for the rest of this week, it’ll do the trick.
Now—to go and make the call I have been putting off. I hate to nag a working man, but I have to know…has he resuscitated my baby?