When Writers Meltdown...

Last night, I had a meltdown.

In times of crisis, I am usually pretty calm, mostly because of my dad and his, "if you panic, you're no good to yourself or anybody else" philosophy.  Inside, I'm freaking out and mentally flailing in whatever handy mental compartment I have available, but outwardly, I tend to focus on whatever the situation is and how to deal with it.

There are exceptions, however, and last night... was a pretty big exception.  

Over the years, I have learned to backup my writing.  I have an external drive for our desktop, and one for my laptop.  I also have various flash drives.  And I also use Google Drive and iCloud.  Yes, I know that's all redundant, but in light of the hard drive crashes and accidents we've had over the years we've had computers, I've learned that redundancy is my friend.  Because I've lost a lot of writing files in those hard drive crashes, and every single one of them hurt.  In fact, the hard drive crash of our last PC, combined with some comments from people who shall remain unnamed, drove me into a seven year writing block that was acutely painful.  

I need to write.  It's painful not to write.

So, I back up and back up, and that's great, but I admit that sometimes, I'll let things slide a little.  Maybe I'm up late writing, and I'll save what I was working on, but I won't back it up to the flash drive or Google or iCloud, etc, because I just want to go to bed and crash, and I'll do it in the morning.

Last summer, one of our cats spilled one fourth inch of water over my laptop in her never-ending Quest for Fresh Water and killed the hard drive, and the last chapter of the novel I was working on.

One new hard drive and and expanded iCloud later, I've gotten better at remember to back up.

I also have the habit of slipping my flash drives into the front pocket of my jeans for the portability of being able to work wherever I am.  I did that yesterday with the intention of working on getting the first fifty pages of The Pestilential Adventures of Mrs. Osgood Peabody into shape to send to a publisher, but I was having a bad Hashimoto's day and instead curled up on the couch under a blanket to watch "Criminal Minds" on Netflix with my daughter.  Later, I changed out of the jeans and into a pair of fleece pajama pants with big pockets, fulling intending to transfer the flash drives into those big pockets, because I still wanted/needed to write, dammit.

And proceeded to get sidetracked by having to answer a question from one of the kids, thus totally forgetting about the flash drives.  Problem is, it kept niggling at my brain that I urgently needed to do something, but could never fully remember what it was, because succeeding events kept driving back to the back burner of what passes for my mind.  Even after the Husbandly One got home for work, I could never get it to come up to the front of my mind and remember what it was I needed to do.

But it bothered me.

And because last week was pretty rotten autoimmune-wise, THO was working to get ahead on the Laundry Monster.  So he was gathering up random clothes to throw in the washer.  I reminded him that the Impertinent Son needed his running tights washed because he has a track meet on Thursday, and went to grab them while he picked through my stuff for things to wash.

He grabbed my jeans.

I noticed and thought, "Wait," but... nope.  Nothing.  

It wasn't until later when I thought, Okay, so I won't get any work done on it tonight, but I should probably get the flash drive and back Mrs. Peabody up to Google Drive... and that was when it hit me.

"Did you wash the jeans I was wearing today?" I asked THO breathlessly.

He looked up from his book.  "Yeah.  I washed both pair that I found on your basket.  Why?"

I didn't answer, I just ran for the laundry room, stopped the washer and opened it and started digging.  And found one of the flash drives almost under the agitator at the bottom of the laundry tub.

But not the Mrs. Peabody drive.

I pulled every single item of clothing out of that washing machine, dripping wet, and shook them out, felt in every pocket, every sleeve, every leg, every arm, every single nook and cranny... and no drive. I felt around under every side of that agitator in the washing machine.  And no drive.

I went back to the living room where I'd been sitting, on the off chance it might have fallen out of my pocket, and I was fighting back tears as I pulled the couch cushions off.  And no drive.

My son noticed and asked what was going on.  And by this time, I wasn't fighting back the tears any more, because it was sinking in that the drive had probably gone down the drain.  I filled him in on what had happened, and he said, "Don't worry, Mom, I'll get Cailly and we'll help you look for it.  It's probably not anywhere near the washing machine."

I nodded and popped the drive I'd found into a small container with rice to help dry it out.  And went back into the bedroom to look in the clothes basket and around the floor, just in case.  And felt progressively worse and worse and worse, and then... I completely lost it.

All that work.  Fighting through writer's block, and uncertainty, and finally getting my writing groove back.  Working on a piece that was getting positive feedback.  And it was gone.

It felt like the universe was trying to tell me something.  Stop.  Quit trying.  You're never going to get anywhere.  You're never going to succeed.  Look at how old you are.  It's never going to happen, so you should just give up while you can.  Give up, grow up, just stop.

In the meantime, the Husbandly One was disconnecting the washing machine drain hose to see if the drive had possibly gone down and doing everything he could to help.  The kids were alternately looking everywhere they knew I had been, and coming in to comfort me as I sat there, a completely wet mess.  

I gave up.  And it was as we were straightening the covers on the bed that I spotted something familiar on the quilt.

The missing flash drive.

After nearly suffocating THO with a tearful hug, then going to share the good news with the kids, you bet your effin' BIPPY I went and backed up everything on that drive to Google Drive and iCloud!!!

And from now on... NO MORE PUTTING FLASH DRIVES INTO MY POCKETS!!!!

Library Day...

For the past four or five summers, Mondays have been Animanga Club days for my kids at the San Marcos public library.  For my kids, this means three hours to hang out with other kids who not only understand anime and manga, they truly, truly get it.

For me, this means three hours of interruption free writing time.

In the past, because my old laptop had a very short battery life, and... it was big, I was limited to places wherever I could find a plug, and had a nice big table to set up on.  And believe me, the tables with plugs at the San Marcos library fill up fast.

This also meant people being able to look over my shoulder to see what I was typing away at so industriously, often to their (and my) chagrin.  And as I've said in the past, I have issues with people being able to look over my shoulder when I'm working, whether it's writing, sketching, sewing... I don't like it.

Now, however, I have my new SHINY, and I'm sitting with my back to a wall.  It's... nice.  Plus, the MacBook is light, and doesn't get hot, so... I can have it in my lap.  If I get really adventurous, I might go hole up in one of the library's out of the way corners to write... except then, the kids would panic because they wouldn't be able to find me when the club lets out.  Oh well.

I can't get over how quiet this laptop is.  There's no optical drive, so... no whirring, no clicks, no fan noise... just the gentle clicking of my keyboard.  And wow, isn't that miles and miles away from the loud percussive clacking of the IBM Selectric I first learned to type on in junior high?

Yes, I'm that old.  Typing was required when I was in junior high.

So... it's nice to only hear quiet when I sit here and write.

Just thought I'd mention it...

Because my daughter's mind is just as warped as mine...

This is what happens when the Impertinent Daughter gets bored halfway through an assignment to write a journal entry as if she were a colonist who had managed to survive a year in one of the New World colonies in the 1600's...



"Friday, August 29, 1600-something -- Sunny. The recent arrivals to the colony were a great relief to all of us as they came with supplies. I mean, we have been trading with the Indians for food and some of their supplies, but... it isn't the same as using what we good English folk are used to using. Besides, if there is anything our new arrivals (and some poor, clueless souls here) should worry about, it's the werewolves. Those bloody pests have been getting too many a man as of lately! Tomorrow night is the full moon and some of the stronger men are going to go hunt them down and rid our colony of these beasts the illness. I think it may come from the water? Or whatever we have been eating. We basically live in a swamp. What the Indians don't give us and that the other colonial men pick up is probably not good for us. And then there's the natives themselves! I've seen some in the woods outside of the borders of our colony, but they don't venture too near. Probably because we're all obviously diseased here and they don't want it. Besides, they've got their own problems. I hear the werewolves are getting them, too. The infestation is worse than I thought diseases are spreading to them and from us no less! But, at the moment, that is of no matter, I have survived a year here in this new world colony, even if it is crawling with moonlight freaks a little dangerous... it is an occurrence worth writing about!"



Part of me wants her to turn it in just like that, but I'm fully aware that as it's only day three, and she doesn't know the teacher well, it's probably a little too early to be testing the bounds of the woman's good humor. Still, she's awesome, and incredible, and I love the skew in her humor!

Werewolves. Heh, heh... briliant!!!

Existential Writer's Crisis --- AVERTED!!!

In order to work on my writing while the kids go to Animanga Club, I keep my writing files on little USB flash drives. And usually, I back them up on my desktop at home.

Usually. When I remember, that is.

Haven't been doing that so faithfully lately, though, and I nearly paid for it. While getting ready to leave for the library today, I did my usual check of the stuff in the laptop bag, taking some stuff out, adding some stuff in... the usual. I also checked to make sure the USB's I'd be using were in their place and... one was missing.

At first, I wasn't too worried. After all, I was pretty sure I'd taken it out to make some notes on the story I'd been working on so... it was probably on my desk. Except... it wasn't. Nor was it in my purse, or on the counter, or in my pockets, or in the car, or in any of the innumerable places it could be. The kids hadn't seen it, the Husbandly One hadn't moved it... and all I could think was, "Oh... crap, I lost it at the library!!!"

My heart sank. I hadn't had a chance to back it up. I'd gotten sidetracked by one of my little distractions and forgotten about it, and then gone to the library and... that meant I didn't have anything current on the story at home, and I didn't have enough of it in my head to reconstruct it, even though I did have some of my notes...

Yeah, it was pretty devastating. And I was trying not to lose it, trying to stay focused on, "Okay, gotta get the kids to the library, and I can ask if they found a USB key... or if someone turned one in...so..."

And I tried very hard not to imagine taking my horrible, sad, pathetic excuse of a novel to a publisher and selling it and making a smashing success of it, and me with no proof it wasn't MINE... except for two notebooks and three files worth of notes and work on it.

Yes, I can be an overdramatic tit, what's your point?

The kids did their best to cheer me up, confident I had just misplaced it, and I tried my best to be philosophical about it, since weeping, wailing, tearing one's clothes, and beating one's breast is sort of hazardous while driving, not to mention upsetting to the children. Plus the whole wearing sack cloth and ashes just plain embarrasses the hell out of them, and while I don't mind embarrassing my kids, I tend to like to do it to a purpose, you know?

So, when we got to the library, the kids turned in their books and rushed to the room where their club meeting was at, barely remembering to wave at me and look properly sympathetic (in fact, they failed horribly at the looking sympathetic part) as they abandoned left me. I was left to walk up to the help desk and ask if anyone had turned in a black usb flash drive.

The librarian found one that was very much like mine BUT... it had initials etched into it that weren't mine. She encouraged me to go ahead and look at it and check, just in case. So, I found a table with a handy plug and pulled out my laptop. Noticing that someone (stares accusingly at the Impossible Son) left crumbs on the keyboard, I dug into the pocket where I keep a microfiber cloth and out of the black fabric tumbled... my missing USB key!!!

*dance of joy, dance of joy*

Yes, yes, I was very happy and just managed not to do a whooping victory jig. While amusing, I am sure it would have been frowned on. After all, I am in the library!

Therefore, there will be no wailing, weeping, and beating of chests, nor shall there be sack cloth and ashes, nor yet the inconsolable Jo dripping tears everywhere as she contemplates the ruin of her life while the Husbandly One plies her with enough chocolate to put an entire platoon of female Marines into comas...

I did mention the overdramatic thing, right?

So, crisis averted, and all is well in Jo-Land. Yay! Now... if I can just finish the damn thing, right? Right.

So,

"Ol' Dan and I, with throats burned dry, and souls that cry for water... cool water..."

Yeah, y'all are probably tired of hearing about this, but... this is the seven day forecast for Central Texas...

I saw a story in the news that cattle are dying from... drinking too much water. Yes, you read that right. See, a lot of stock tanks (what most folks think of as "ponds" are called "tanks" down here) have dried up, and pastures have withered, so... ranchers are moving their cattle to pastures where they can pump in a water supply. The cows, of course, are understandably thirsty, and if they drink too much too quickly, well, it's more than their bodies can handle and they die. More than 90 percent of the state is in the two highest drought categories. Where I am is in the "exceptional" category.

And because there is no moisture in the soil whatsoever, it's just... baking out there. It's like walking into an oven when you go outside, which I'll admit, I don't really like to do all that much. Because, there's only so much clothing you can remove before someone gets charged with indecency! This is the first time I've ever wished we had a pool, but at the same time, I'm glad we don't because, omg, the water bill!!

My latest writing project is going well... when the kids leave me along long enough, that is. I'm hoping to be done by tonight, so I can get it edited and ready to send off by tomorrow night. And that is all I will say about that, for now.

Now, if I can just get the the Migraine of Doom to go away and leave me alone, that would be totally awesome!!

*goes to sit in front of a fan to dry the latest layer of sweat*

Library day...

So, I'm at the library today. The Impertinent Daughter has her Ani-Manga Club meeting. The Impossible Son gets to play on the heavily filtered kid computers and go to library approved gamesites that he can't go to at home, because our computer slows down to neolithic speeds otherwise. I'm not sure how the library's tech team does it, but the library computers seem to have no problem with it. Our Mac, though, does.

And what do I get out of this? Time to write, uninterrupted. Well, except for the fact that there are those who wander about, looking specifically for people using personal laptops, and feel compelled to do a bit of "over the shoulder cruising."

I hate it when people look over my shoulder when I'm working on something, whether it's writing, sewing, crocheting, drawing, whatever. I can't stand it. And it would be truly nice if I could set up somewhere with my back to a wall, but there are no plugs near the tables by walls, and my laptop's battery power lasts for about, oh... 23 seconds. Yeah, need to replace it, I know, I know, but... you know, things like dental appointments, and mortgage payments and FOOD come first.

Anyhow, I do what I can, and try not to feel too paranoid, and the kids are happy. Well, until the Impossible Son gets bored of the computer and wanders around to find a book, then comes to sit with me. Then he'll start snorting and snickering, and feel compelled to read the funny bits of whatever book he's reading out loud to me, and I won't get it because (a) I haven't read the book and (b) he's giggling too much to be coherent. I'll still laugh, though, because he's funny, though I'll pretend I'm laughing at what he's reading, to save his feelings, you understand.

Plus there's the added bonus of people-watching. I enjoy people-watching. You never know what you're going to get. Last week, I got to watch a young guy who had "Saggy Pants Syndrome." His jeans were hanging down around his thighs and his underwear, as a result, were slowly sliding down as well. I was amused when he pulled his underwear up... but not his jeans.

Then he sat down. This did not help.

It ended when a librarian came by to fuss at him for his jeans practically falling down around his ankles, whereupon he felt compelled to start wandering around. He passed me, and I realized he was also Hygienically Challenged.

Yes, a good time was had by all.

So, I suppose at some point, I should finish this entry, and like a good little author, get to work.

Yeah, not so much of the writing getting done.

*sigh*

Note to Muse: This would be a really good time for you to show up. WHERE ARE YOU??

No love,

Jo

Oh well, back to the salt mines!!

This is going to be a problem...

Okay, so... apparently I can write when I'm away from home.

I've had a plot bunny stalking me for a few days, and when we decided to make an excursion into Austin yesterday to hit Barnes and Noble and Book People to use our gift cards, it finally decided to attack.

I keep a notebook in my purse for writing purposes (yes, how old fashioned of me, right?) and I tried writing in the car, but you know, that didn't work so well. However, I remembered that my iPod Touch has a note writing app on it, so... I decided to try that et voila!

So... I can write when I'm not sitting here in my nice comfortable Auntie Nook where I have all this space and references, and I can look out the window and see my garden when I need distraction or to think... no, I have to be AWAY from it and... *head-desk*

Guess I'd better start looking at local options for places to write. Because, seriously, I can't keep tripping into San Marcos to hang out at the library to write! No comfortable corners there anyway.

There used to be a place here called "Java Motion" where I would go after dropping off the kids. I'd take the laptop or a notebook, buy a hot chocolate and something to nibble on, find a table in a corner near the window so I could see out on the square, and I'd spend a few hours writing. Didn't do it often, but when I did, I was always productive. They had wi-fi, so if I needed references, I could go online. It's closed last summer, and it looks like no one's going to buy the place and make a substitute. Which sucks.

The Dairy Queen here has wi-fi, but... no. No thank you. There is a library here, and while there is a nice space for writing, with at least two or three semi-private carrells, people with laptops are banished to this really crappy folding table in a very drafty hallway near the back, right by the restrooms. Not an ideal situation for writing in. And, there's a place called "The Baker's Rack" that has wi-fi, but it's small and a wee bit crowded...

Gah, why can't I write here????

On another note, the Impertinent Daughter did this rough sketch this morning, which I looked at with great amusement. She'd asked me to name a character for her to sketch, and my brain did it's usual thing of emptying of any useful content whatsoever, and I do remember grumbling something about not having enough caffeine for this before suggesting the first thing that came to mind. She, of course, shot it down immediately, so I responded with, "Roxas!" in desperation.

Which made her roll her eyes.

This is the result...

It's not Roxas. She said that. She said, "I don't know who this is, though it's kind of like you, kind of like me, but more like you when you're all 'I haven't had enough caffeine for this,' and all."

So, it's very like me, except I don't drink coffee because of the brain explodey thing. But, you get the idea.

So now I'm off to... um... not write. Or at least figure out where I can write. Woot. I think.