In the last 48 hours, I thought the Universe was going all out to get me to give up the writing. I’m a little shame-faced to admit why: I hadn’t backed-up a number of important files, thinking my trusted old laptop was invincible.
But guess what?
Gasp of outrage that this could happen to ME! I used to laugh at people that happened to. Didn’t back-up? Ha, ha, ha! (Spoiler alert, my story has a happy ending).
Of course, I did a major back-up of all my laptop files recently. I’m very particular about that, do it regularly. It is now October. Last back-up turned out to be in MAY. The beginning of May. Yikes!
So, I bawled my eyes out thinking if the last five months of work were lost, perhaps it was a sign? Maybe I should be taking this as a message from the Universe* to use my ‘talents’ elsewhere? I couldn’t possibly re-write from scratch the stories/poems/novel chapters I’ve been working on lately (I’ve been a creative whirlwind). I’d have to scrap the lot, give up, and try taking on the mantle of domestic goddess again instead.
I started by baking an apple pie.
That kept me busy for an hour. Then I wrote a poem about apple pies.
Damn! Seems I’m compulsive, gotta write (I used a pen and paper, incidentally).
I’m quite fond of this laptop and it has been my trusty companion since it was purchased with the winnings of a short story competition four and a half years ago (and yes, I know the keyboard letters are now wearing out, they get a lot of use). It has never let me down before, so I was unprepared for a personal meltdown when it crashed.
Fortunately, I grew my own computer nerd, who has an even nerdier mate who eventually managed to return my laptop to its former state. I’m incredibly grateful to my son and his friend for spending so much time fixing it.
In my defence, being compromised by a computer crash is not because I’m some Luddite who hasn’t the know-how to do back-ups, it’s all to do with the passage of time.
Something to do with the reality of the speed of time’s passing, and my perception of it.
It was my birthday a couple of weeks back. Er, no, that was three months ago.
We were at the Farmers’ Market last weekend. No, it was last month.
I did a poetry reading in Dublin a month or two ago. Um, that was in April.
Betty is only just out of kittenhood. What? She’s 12? No way!
Jeez, where does the time go?
What seemed to make everything worse was me thinking I’d at least backed up my Scrivener files with the latest version of the novel I’m 94,000 words into (I’m at the detailed editing stage now). I thought I’d copied them onto a pen-drive a few days before the Big Crash. Turned out, I’d copied chapter headings, not content. So perhaps I’m not as tech-savvie as I make out?
Anyway, it’s Christmas any minute now, isn’t it? Thought so 😊
*My smart boy explained the message from the Universe was not for me to stop writing, but to learn how to save (often) to the Cloud!