Major set back with Timeless on Monday, Gentle Reader.
I don’t consider myself a very artistic writer. In fact, I’ve been trying to train myself to be better at writing as a job ~ anywhere, anytime. To that end, I lugged my new (well, 4 months old) tiny Samsung (AKA Gimli) around with me all weekend trying to fit writing time in whenever I could. I was very successful and rather proud of myself. Until, due to a complicated series of mistakes (mine) and assumptions (mine based on how Macs behave as opposed to Windows) I lost everything I had written trying to transfer the updated draft of Timeless from Gimli back to my Mac.
That’s a lot of work. Almost 4000 words. Gone in a puff of computer logic. (Why can’t I just plug one computer into another? I mean really? Really! And no, please don’t give some complicated bullpuckie hack for this. I want a cord, I can plug into my Mac with the other end in my Notebook so the one mounts on the other’s DESKTOP and then I can just transfer. That’s what I want. No fiddling.)
Anyway, I’m bitter.
I might have contemplated hurling my notebook, Frisbee-like, across the room. I might have spoken to Gimli quite severely on the subject of how many pairs of shoes I could have spent my money on instead of him. And money well spent, that would have been! I might have vowed never again to be tempted by speed, portability, and price into buying a Windows machine of any kind. I’ll pay ten times as much for my Apple safety net, thank you. This old dog can’t learn new tricks, it’s Macs for me until I die.
So as a direct result, suddenly I just don’t want to work on Timeless. Mere moments before the tragic event I was so excited to get on to the next bit. New hilarity, new mysteries, much amusement was to be had for Alexia and her gang. I don’t mind writing when I know where it’s going. But writing something I’ve already written? Trying to remember what it was I typed down? Where my imagination took me? I don’t know about you, Gentle Reader, but I always end up with this sinking feeling that it was much better and more brilliant the first time around. It’s just plain depressing.
I might have had to have a very stiff drink. And then decided to learn how to make crepe batter. (I do very odd things when I’m drunk.)
Your moment of parasol . . .
No parasol for you!
Gail’s Daily Dose
Your Infusion of Cute:
Your Tisane of Smart:
I say again, phooey.
Your Writerly Tinctures:
Phooey, phooey, phooey.
Even bigger SPOILER ALERT! Really, DON’T READ THE BLURB ON AMAZON if you haven’t read the other books first.
Quote of the Day:
And I say unto you, big fat Meh.