It’s a creepy world out there.
But it’s a good one too, and 2013, with all its digital publishing turnovers is a year full of opportunity.
WriterMason Productions has a lovely debut author to promote, so fun things are percolating.
I have a new story that is coming along nicely, finally feeling like my voice fits.
So why the dreaded week of Mondays… month of Sundays… and a year of 13ths? Why won’t my Mercury come out of retrograde? (And truly, I do not mock this. Being a writer is to respect the Muses, faeries and wizards, and the stars and planets above. You respect my faith, I respect yours, capiche?)
On my Facebook group, 5 a.m. Writers, we talk constantly about backing up files (read: we discuss it ad nauseum). We cite new sources of cloud storage; we offer opinions, contribute reviews; we point out the do’s and don’ts and the latest gadgets available to lock that baby wip up nice and tight and keep it safe.
So what do you think happened to me?
I was typing right along, when I looked at the time and realized – oh no! I’m late! Put the computer into sleep mode, and took off like the White Rabbit in search of the Mad Hatter’s tea party.
A few hours later, I tried to wake the thing up–
It took a while. It yawned and stretched and smacked its lips like an adolescent who’d been up til 4 a.m just to see if he could do it and now couldn’t open his eyes and get on with the day’s business.
And when it finally did wake up fully, guess whose baby wip escaped?
My insides went steely cold . My organs dropped to my feet and then – like they were on a bungee cord – snapped back up to the back of my throat and stuck….
A cut file remained intact (oh joy! all the stuff I didn’t like!) so I managed to rewrite what I lost, working backwards from the stuff I threw away.
After that adventure, I surfed around some sites and blogs, didn’t find anything particularly exciting, picked up the book I’m reading (The Girl Who Stopped Swimming by Joshilyn Jackson) and applied my cold feet to myHero’s under the covers.
Fast forward to this morning: I went back to the computer. “No Firewall,” Computer messaged me. “Security updates needed… Protect your computer from spyware and malware…”. HUH?!
Nothing worked. No email. No internet. No Confidential and Secure checkmarks to make me feel confident and secure.
This time, instead of losing my insides the way I did last night, my organs multiplied and reverberated at different rates. My heart beat against my chest, something beat against my ribs, and something else was in my throat, stuck again. Sites crashed and pages died with little x’s over the Computer Cartoon’s eyes — if I didn’t kill them first.
Who knew how violent just checking my email and Facebook could be on a mundane Monday morning?
Oh wait… it’s Wednesday.
It took some time and deep breathing and patience and cool, decisive action, but I fixed the problem. Security software patch was needed to play nice with Windows 8. Whew!
I like technology. I like security and problem solving and networking and updates and apps…. But it has occurred to me that in the 21st century, it’s not that we’re stupid or slow, but instead, we are constantly bombarded with updates and upgrades, the latest and greatest, the superlative to the highest power. We are faced with yet another learning curve.
I grew up with hopscotch on the sidewalks and 2square in the street… not an Iphone or a Kindle Fire or a “Quest” this or “Discover” that or any of the myriad computers disguised as toys for today’s toddlers. I still have a – gasp! – First Generation Furby!
My late mother in law snagged the LAST Furby that Christmas. Yes, the Last one. My boys shared it, which was okay, since one was more interested in Pokemon. My mother and I watched it struggle to coo and gurgle and giggle, both of us a little bit bewildered with this odd little animatronic
Mother pointed to the little window on its brow. “I’ll bet there’s a recorder or something in there that can spy on us,” she said, characteristically cynical from the Cold War, Korean War, World War II and the Depression. Technology and government were not to be trusted in her generation; pull yourself up by your bootstraps and take care of yourself.
I rolled my eyes and sniffed. “Sure mom. And it’s watching every move we make.”
But here we are, with security hacks into our accounts and computer cameras on remote access turned on by the odd virus.
Maybe she was right…?