Electric Grandmother

Maggie Croft's Personal Journal young spirit, wire-wrapped
spark electric grandmother
arc against the night

-- Lon Prater
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great writing day

Today I wrote on my old word processor. It's a dinosaur I received when I graduated high school way back in '94. It's pitiful when compared to my computer, but sometimes it's useful. E.g. it's not connected to the outside world so I can get more done. It's on a writing desk in my bedroom, so there's usually more privacy and fewer distractions. Also, it may be useful because to do anything with what I write on it, I'm going to have to retype what I've written onto the computer. (Not that I've ever done this before.) It should be interesting to see how this affects the writing process and final product as a whole.

So today I typed twelve pages (I'm not positive about how many words were written; the word processor doesn't do a total word count) of a story I started back in July. Sometimes it takes a really long time to work out a story in my head. I'm pitiful that way. I figure I'm about two-thirds of the way through with the story, if not a little less. At this rate, the first draft should be done tomorrow. I will then edit the hardcopy (which took almost an hour to print out tonight), do some rewriting, and then type the whole thing into my computer word processing program, rewriting as necessary.

It should make for an interesting experiment, if nothing else.

I hope it's useful, though. With baby coming via c-section at the end of April, it could be almost essential in some respects. My computer/work area is downstairs in the basement. I don't see me doing a lot of stairs while recouperating. This way, while baby sleeps and hangs out, I can get some writing done. I do suspect my output will be significantly affected by the little guy's arrival.

Ah, but it was wonderful. Nostalgia, I suppose. While Avadore played outside, and inside some, too, I wrote. It was a high I haven't felt for so long. I had my ear phones on, listening to great music, typing away on my archaic beast. It felt so good. I felt so alive. I don't know why I don't get the same high with the computer. Pure association with some great writing times from my youth, perhaps.

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