What follows is not the essay I had originally written for you good folk. I had prepared a neat little ode to books, a wistful appreciation of those bundles of bound pages, which, in a world as mad as ours has become, still unites us all through a common interest.
Apple Computers stopped me.
An eMac Apple computer, to be specific.
8PM. It was the perfect evening–the fireflies had taken to the twilit sky outside my office window like flares seen from the seashore; the raccoons were using their smoker’s barks to chase my cats away so they could pilfer their food; the smell of wood smoke was in the air, blown to my nose from my neighbors’ fire-pit, as they laughed and cheered at things unknown, and the birds sang the last of their songs.
A beautiful evening– perfect for writing…
…Until my computer ran low on hard drive space, flashed me a brief warning, then crashed, taking 40,000 words of a novel-in-progress and my original Storytellers Unplugged essay with it. I sat there for a moment, looking like someone had just bonked me on the head with a mallet; then a long low groan came barreling up my throat. My hands found my hair and I removed enough of it in one tug to guarantee a comb-over will be a necessity in the very near future.
I hadn’t saved, you see, and before the chorus of “You Moron!” begins, let me explain something about this incurable disease called writing some of us have to bear.
When you’re writing, and I mean, when your fingers are dancing across the keys like a virtuoso at Carnegie Hall because the words are there, backing up in your head faster than you can get them out, when you’re “on the crab”– as the Alaskan fishermen say–and pot after pot is coming up full from that boundless ocean of the mind, it is extremely rare that you’ll interrupt the torrent of thought-to-finger action to consider the safety of your file. Particularly if you’ve already set your Word program to contend with any eventualities, such as power outages, surges, or crashes. If anything happens, the computer is supposed to automatically save the last thing you wrote before Lights Out. Now, of course, there are wiser people than me out there, who can’t write Word One without putting in place myriad safety nets to prevent the loss of their work. But I’m a sucker, and if the computer tells me everything’s A-OK, then I assume it is and get on with things.
But apparently, if your hard drive gets full, you’re screwed.
So I did what anyone else would do in my position. I rebooted the computer and prayed that it would start up without a hitch. Thankfully, it did. No warning signs, no animated faces bouncing across the screen in hysterics at my misfortune and/or naivety.
My work was gone.
I had images of standing on a railroad with a month of writing mooning me like a hobo from a fast-moving train.
A dog once ran out in front of me as I was taking a hairpin turn. With a car up my ass, I couldn’t stop straight away and I hit the poor mutt. He survived, but neither of us were the same after that day. He hobbled; I got the jitters every time I sat into my car. I felt an awful hollowness and a sense of loss I don’t think has ever left me. And while it may seem cold, callous and cruel to equate the loss of half a novel and an essay to hitting a dog, it’s as close as I can come to describing how I felt last night as I realized the words were gone and there was no getting them back.
Frustration turned to fury.
I started up my backup folder–courtesy of good ‘ol .Mac–and was promptly told my membership had expired in April. I didn’t understand, but to my utter horror, quickly discovered that without warning, or notification, I had lost my virus scan, backup capability, email (which I never used anyway–I use AOHell–so didn’t notice its absence), extra hard drive space (iDisk), and a boatload of other stuff I hadn’t even realized I was using, or needed. When I tried to check the hard drive stats, I was duly informed that I had to be a member to (a) check the space and (b) buy more if I needed it.
Cue panic.
I visited the .Mac online store, did some digging and asked some questions while trying not to yowl like a horny tomcat at my misfortune. All I could think about was the computer, which I envisioned as a comic book illustration with a speech bubble containing the word NOOOOOOOOOO! sprouting from the screen.
It didn’t take long for me to uncover the clandestine machinations of the Mac People.
When my wife and I purchased this computer, no one bothered to tell us that our “complimentary, comes with the package” .Mac membership would expire in a year, and that it would cost $100 to renew it. Nor were we told that when it expired, it would storm out like an angry spouse taking everything but the TV Guide and the goldfish with it.
Today, then, I must rewrite half a novel from memory (which, trust me, is even less dependable than the computer’s), and try to summon smiles because it’s Father’s Day.
But I’m bitter, at both my own stupidity, and at technology as a whole.
Sure, it makes life easier, and in twenty years we’ll be able to flush a toilet and contact Mars, or microwave food in our pockets while we speak into each other’s noses in lieu of phones, but what will it cost us?
As I lay in bed last night, staring at the ceiling, an image of my very first typewriter floated into view. Suddenly, after not thinking about it forever, I felt an ache at the thought of it. A typewriter won’t crash on you. Sure, it may bleed ink and smudge and eat your page, or perhaps on a bad day you’ll break a key. But all of it can be fixed. When you write, the pages come out as a testament to your hard work, and they’re yours–nothing can take them away from you (except maybe a gust and an open window).
That typewriter sits on a shelf in my childhood home back in Dungarvan, Ireland. No one uses it. It probably doesn’t work anymore, but I’m guessing for the $100 it would cost me to renew my .Crap membership every year, I could get it looking spiffy again. My mother once called to tell me she’d found a mouse skeleton under its keys. I wasn’t repulsed. Instead, I imagined the little guy sitting there in a smoking jacket, puffing on a pipe and consulting with his wife.
“He’s bound to be back at some stage, dear.”
And maybe I will.
Kealan Patrick Burke
www.kealanpatrickburke.com
21 Comments, Comment or Ping
Anonymous
I can relate, Kealan. No matter how cautious and careful I am, this kind of thing happens me at least twice a year. I’m starting to loathe computers.
John D.
Jun 19th, 2005
Anonymous
I will stick to my way of doing things. Write it out in longhand or use a TYPEWRITER(my beloved Selectric)…or one of my manual typewriters if the lights are iffy. Computers gobble up your work when least expected. I do feel your pain Kealan!
For that $100.00 you can pick up an Olympia manual at the stationary store and it won’t fry your work.
Hang in there!
Frosty.
Jun 19th, 2005
Laura Anne Gilman
*goes off to make extra backups of everything.*
Oy.
I’ve taken to storing files in an offsite e-mail account, just in case. Like having life insurance for the novel. I’m praying it will be enough, when the eventual middle finger of fate comes up. Because it will. I know that.
– Laura Anne
Jun 19th, 2005
Mark Rainey
Kealan, I can relate. It’s been years, but I once lost an entire revised draft of a novel. Talk about a nightmarish feeling in your gut; that was it. I think most of us who have gone the way of technology with our writing problably have similar horror stories. In addition to regular backups, I always email my work to myself and let it sit on my email server, so there’s always a remote copy out there in case I need it. (Note to self: email copy of newest story to self before lightning strikes.)
As incredible as our technology sometimes seems, and despite the fact that I know almost nothing about how it’s done, I sometimes marvel at how badly we really do it. It’s so complex that the slightest slip in one component, and the whole house comes crashing down.
Yep, I often miss the days of the good old manual typewriter. Yet I just can’t see myself ever going back to one.
–Mark
Jun 19th, 2005
Anonymous
I don’t miss my typewriter, but i am reaching for my USB storage pen after reading that. And despite the heatwave that is hitting England today i have a shiver going down my spine. 40,000 words are a lot to lose.
Commiserations. Time to reach for the wine……
Sarah
Jun 19th, 2005
Lee Thomas
Ugh! That sucks, Kealan. I’m sorry to hear it. Something like that happened to me about a dozen years ago when I wrote “just for fun.” Lost 50K words or so. Threw the computer against the wall, literally.
Actually, it was that incident with a PC that made me switch to Mac.
Like others, I will take your cautionary tale to heart and spend the next hour burning CD backups.
Jun 19th, 2005
DNW
I’m boggling a little bit. I’m a fast writer. I can write, in fact, faster and more words at a shot than anyone I know…but I can’t write 40,000 words at one sitting….how did you happen to have kept your word processor open THAT LONG without closing it!! Man, 40K is rough.
I rewrote a single chapter three times in one evening once, when working on a White Wolf novel..I usually open the last chapter I wrote, then cut out the text and use the formatting - but that night I kept hitting SAVE without changing the file name. Not a happy moment, particularly THE SECOND TIME IN A ROW!
Anyway…my point was, I don’t think my third rewrite was better, but I believe the second time I wrote it all from scratch, it WAS better…hope that’s a little consolation.
DNW
Jun 19th, 2005
Kim Richards
What a reminder and thank you. I always think of backing up work when I’m done for the day. Usually I’m tired so it gets put off until tomorrow. And tomorrow. And another tomorrow. Now I’m thinking that’s just asking for something bad to happen.
I also understand the gut feeling you had over this. I felt it once when my laptop was stolen from my apartment. It lessens with time but never leaves entirely.
Jun 19th, 2005
Brian
Had that happen to me once too. God, that sucks, Kealan
Jun 19th, 2005
Anonymous
Oh dear gods… That sucks. You just made me want to pull out a bottle of ink and tap my temple with a feather. Sorry about the computer!
Marcy
Jun 19th, 2005
Kealan Patrick Burke
Thanks everyone.
David: Unless there’s a storm on the horizon, I seldom turn my computer off, and Word is almost always open. It’s set to autosave every five minutes, but due to the memory failure, it didn’t. The 40,000 words was written most of Tuesday, Wednesday, all day Thursday, Friday and from 4 p.m. to 8 last night. I wouldn’t have ended up keeping all of it anyway, but damn it really kills me to have it snatched away like that.
Despite the self-pity that plagued me this morning, I’ve started rewriting it.
I’m at 2,000 words. Groan.
I may very well go back to typewriters after this, and to hell with the convenience!
Kealan
Jun 19th, 2005
Janet Berliner
That’s awful I don’t even deal well with accidentally erasing one e-mail. The good part is that you’re a terrific writer; your hands and brain will work in concert to reconstitute your novel-in-progress.
Now I know why I can’t resist buying a yellow pad every time I see one and why I treasure my fountain pens. As long as I have one of each and my fingers are operational, I can get something on paper.
Janet
Jun 19th, 2005
terry
there’s not much to say that hasn’t been said,but I’m adding my empathy to everyone elses.
What a crappy thing to have happen. Good luck with the rewrite.
Jun 19th, 2005
Mari Adkins
I hate to hear that, but like most everyone else here, I’ve had it happen, too.
Jun 19th, 2005
Michelle Pendergrass
Ouch.
Jun 19th, 2005
Anonymous
Interesting entry, Kealan, thanks for posting it. It was enjoyable, and I can relate to you since one time I did lose a whole chunk of words, and I wish I had kept count of how many times I swore and yelled and listened to others complain about it.
-Kyle
Jun 19th, 2005
alaneye
I wouldn’t go back to the typewriter Kealan…that’s knee jerk. Just don’t trust your computer to do everything for you. Autosave or not, whenever I leave the computer for a while, I save the file twice, one copy to two different hard drives on my PC. Periodically, I upload a copy to my webspace so I have a copy somewhere other than on my PC (the same can be done by burning to a CD-RW or writing to a pen drive).
These precautions were only put in place after loosing a chunk of work of course
Good luck with the rewrite, it’ll be good, though you know it will never be quite the same as it was.
Alan
Jun 20th, 2005
Steve Vernon
Man, what a crappy story, Kealan. Couldn’t you give this a happy ending?
Oh. It isn’t a story.
Man, what a bummer. I’ve had to retype an entire novel from hard copy into the computer, and that was very frustrating. (In fact I’ve still got one more novel awaiting retyping, from the crash of a computer that was about two or three hands beyond second hand, that took poorly to a flooded basement).
But having to retype from memory? Aiyiyi. I buy discs in bulk, those big fat fifty packs you get at the Walmart. I try to save everything, sometimes twice. I still live in fear. Reading your entry has encouraged me to run out and buy another big 50 pack of discs and save everything I’ve written in the last month or two.
You see, that’s the thing about lessons. You never really learn them, do you???
Jun 20th, 2005
Anonymous
You have my sympathies! After a few rough experiences (before I started writing book-length files, thankfully) I made it a ritual to back up everything on dual floppies at the end of every day, and I still do although nowadays it is quicker and more convenient to back up by e-mailing yourself (you can even set up a special account).
When a hard drive crashes, it is possible to save large chunks of text and possibly entire files because these do not normally get overwritten, which is why it is important to use special comands to permanently delete confidential files if you ever hand over your computer to people who should not find them. If it ever happens again (and I very much hope that it never will!) take you machine to the nearest computer shop and they should be able to recover a significant part of your work.
This does not reflect well on Apple. I love Apple, I really do, and I do not believe that there are *worse* companies, but this is not the kind of thing I like to hear.
Jun 20th, 2005
Kealan Patrick Burke
Thanks for the kind words Janet, and everyone else, I appreciate the support. It’s been tough, but I’ve resisted the urge to go back to the old method. Since posting the essay above, I’ve crawled back to 15,000 words, which, while not great, is better than quitting (and I was sorely tempted to move on to something else, believe me). And while what I’ve written isn’t as good as what was there before (naturally; don’t we always think that, even if it isn’t the case?), it’s progress and I can always go back and edit later.
I’ve also taken on board the idea of emailing the day’s work to myself. I like that a lot, as it circumvents the whole Save/Crash/Act of God thing.
Onward!
Kealan
Jun 20th, 2005
Tina
Man, that sucks.
I am paranoid about backups, and this is precisely why. I back stuff up daily to my flash card, and periodically to an offsite machine, and have been considering mailing myself everything over at gmail (now with MORE SPACE THAN YOU WILL EVER NEED) just to be sure, except I don’t know if I trust their security. Plus I periodically make dvd or cd backups.
Which reminds me; I haven’t done that for a while.
The lesson, which you already know, is: BE PARANOID.
Jun 21st, 2005
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