Writers are inordinately attached to their computers.
If there were a fire and I had to choose between my children and the computer… Well of course I’d choose the kids. But if the choice were my husband and my little baby Mac on a bad day I’d grab the laptop bag and throw my man a fire extinguisher. (I am quite sure my MIL will not see the humor in the above.)
But truly. I am ATTACHED to this little machine. I spend more time communicating with this box of metal than with any other thing on the planet. It contains my most intimate details (and I don’t mean naughty pics) but my stories. All of them. In all stages. My manuscripts, my scripts, my pilots, my treatments, my one liners that may become stories or scripts or pilots. Aaah. I love my little computer so.
Until Wednesday the 30th.
Just as I was about to head to the airport to return home from holiday my screen went black. Black. As in deader than a doornail black. Of course I wantedt to blame the children since they are 3 and 6 and are NEVER to touch Mommy’s computer which means they ALWAYS want to touch Mommy’s computer. Especially the 3 year old. She is our terror. The one that I already spend sleepless nights wondering what she’ll be like when she’s sixteen. Then I wanted to blame the husband. But he saw that hit coming and told me with his wicked smile that it wasn’t his fault and I better keep right on moving down the list.
But there was no one else on the list. It couldn’t have been me that harmed my precious little lovebug made of metal. And it wasn’t. The darn graphics card bit the dust. And according to my Genius at the Genius Bar (who had some very sexy/swanky ink on his arms–gotta love a man who can really pull off a tattoo.) My computer fell within the ‘range’ of a group of computers that have graphics card failure.
We have to take it for 7 to 10 days.
You back up right?
Gulp. Uh. Gulp. Sometimes?
Your data should be okay but I can’t guarantee it.
Here come the tears. I can feel the tears. They are taking my baby away and she might not be okay? I might not be okay? My STORIES might not be okay?
Now I am on a friend’s old computer. You know the one you never use once you get the killer new one but keep around ‘just in case.’ I am the ‘just in case’ right now. But of course I don’t trust this little baby the way I trust mine. It’s like driving someone else’s car. You’re not sure about that squeeky noise. Or how the breaks feel. Or if the steering is always this tight. Plus, this baby has some miles on her. Don’t get me wrong I am THANKFUL I can now go through email. (Uh 290 in three days took me 3 hours.) But I don’t trust this little lady with my most intimate thoughts.
Looks like I’ll keep on writing those new chapters out long hand. At least until my baby gets back home.