Okay, let's be honest...some of it is my fault for being a hidebound old technophobe who does not deal well with change.
I've been trying to get Book 2 in 'The Vampires of Hollywood' series finished and off to Untreed Reads before I embark upon what I am certain will be a gruelling learning curve as I finally have my computer upgraded and Microsoft Office 2010 installed. I simply can't concentrate on finishing a book - especially one which has already been a whore of a thing to get cranked out - whilst learning some newfangled software...program...oh whatever, thingies...at the same time. My head would explode. Simple as that. Worse, other peoples' heads may explode too...because that's what tends to happen when heads are brought into forceful contact with heavy objects thrown at them by writers who have started to absolutely hate their own creation.
Anyway, until now - this very day, in fact - I have continued the archaic habit of writing everything to disk ( yes, what we used to call a floppy disk - laugh now, go on ) and after getting sick of continually renewing the back-ups on the hard drive because I rewrite everything a dozen times before I'm even near happy with it, I kind of stopped backing things up quite so often. Sometimes I'd have something 3/4 finished before I'd remember to back it up.
That happened with Book 2. Hadn't got round to backing it up. Put the disk in this morning...
...and the bottom fell out of my writing world. The disk had corrupted. All data was irretrievable.
I sat there in front of the little message box displayed on my computer screen - absolutely certain, of course, that the fucker was laughing at me - a high-pitched mental scream echoing in my head "NOOOO-OOOOO!!!!" and no doubt wearing that stunned, hammered expression of someone who, happily picking flowers buy the railway tracks, has just caught the 5.15 express in the back ( I think I'm actually still in shock and so the reality of the mountainous task ahead of me hasn't quite sunk in yet ). After several minutes of this, I finally called A Guy Who Fixes Computers and he's coming round tomorrow afternoon to take a look at my elderly, ailing machine, see if he can do anything about the corrupted files. He isn't hopeful that he can retrieve them from the disk, however. So unless the files are hidden somewhere on my hard drive, I'm screwed. I shall have to rewrite Book 2 in its entirety from word one to the damn near end that I had finally gotten to just a few nights ago.
|Yeah, this is more|
Anyway, one way or another I suspect the release date for Book 2 ( which was intended to be June/July 2013 ) will have to be re-scheduled. I may well be without a computer for up to a week if he needs to take it off-site to upgrade and fix. Maybe longer depending upon how busy The Guy is and how fast he works. I know I shall feel bereft, set adrift in a strange and frightening Internet-less universe, forced back to the PenandInk Age without a computer keyboard to tap-tap-tap upon. Okay, that last doesn't bother me so much. I only gave up writing everything out longhand first because my wrist joints can't take it anymore. Ah, the trusty old typewriter...how I loved thee. No, wait, those things used to go to buggeration on me too...
Putting on a pair of sandals and just walking out into the desert suddenly doesn't seem like such a bad idea.
|Might be an idea to keep these away from me at the moment...|