Paranoia - The Computer Ate 1,000 Words!
Every once in a while in a race, there is an unfortunate accident. An ankle twists. A foot catches. the runner doesn't clear a hurdle, but instead finds themselves inexplicably wrapped around the very obstacle they tried to clear - wondering why various parts of their body are suddenly blossoming in pain.
I spent all morning writing at the coffee shop . . . only to have my computer fail to save my work. Not that I didn't save. I saved every three seconds. But when I finally closed the document, the computer . . . ate my latest version.
I would say it burped . . . but it didn't even leave a temp file for me.
After crying for a while, I went home and reconstructed the missing pieces (probably to the betterment of the novel, in all honesty . . . but still). Now I'm paranoid. Now I'm not only saving my file to two separate locations - I'm also emailing it to myself for security.
On the bright side . . . I have a more exciting excerpt!
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The merchant girl shook her head. “I do not know the reasons you are truly here, no?” she said, “but I think it is to help us all – no matter what we believe, and I thank you.”
“I try,” Trev said, his lips twisting into a wry smile.
“My name is Melinda,” the girl said holding out her hand in the manner of a merchant sealing a deal, “and I am thinking that if you are in need of assistance, I owe you a great debt. If I hear anything of interest, I will be sure to relay it to you, no?”
Trev clasped her hand in his. “It is a great kindness,” he said, “though I can be difficult to find.”
Melinda looked over her shoulder at the honeybeer tent. “Is no problem. If you need to find me, simply ask at the honeybeer tent. The barkeep will know where I spread my blanket, no?” With a final half-bow, made awkward by the weight and shape of her rolled blanket, she vanished amidst the tents, the bright colors of her clothing and blanket swiftly becoming indistinguishable against the bright patchwork pattern of the Peiceland market.
Cassia stared at Trev with wonder. “You just stopped a riot,” she said softly. “With nothing but your words, you just stopped a disaster that could have ended with half the market in flames.”
Trev looked at her, startled.
“Do not think me a fool,” Cassia said acidly. “For even had you and I withheld from using our power, anger and alcohol have a way of ending in fire.”
“Then you finally understand what I am doing here” Trev asked, “and why I could not afford to spare even a day to see you safely to my school?”
“I do,” said Cassia, her expression filled with new respect. “And I want to help.”
I spent all morning writing at the coffee shop . . . only to have my computer fail to save my work. Not that I didn't save. I saved every three seconds. But when I finally closed the document, the computer . . . ate my latest version.
I would say it burped . . . but it didn't even leave a temp file for me.
After crying for a while, I went home and reconstructed the missing pieces (probably to the betterment of the novel, in all honesty . . . but still). Now I'm paranoid. Now I'm not only saving my file to two separate locations - I'm also emailing it to myself for security.
On the bright side . . . I have a more exciting excerpt!
------------------------
The merchant girl shook her head. “I do not know the reasons you are truly here, no?” she said, “but I think it is to help us all – no matter what we believe, and I thank you.”
“I try,” Trev said, his lips twisting into a wry smile.
“My name is Melinda,” the girl said holding out her hand in the manner of a merchant sealing a deal, “and I am thinking that if you are in need of assistance, I owe you a great debt. If I hear anything of interest, I will be sure to relay it to you, no?”
Trev clasped her hand in his. “It is a great kindness,” he said, “though I can be difficult to find.”
Melinda looked over her shoulder at the honeybeer tent. “Is no problem. If you need to find me, simply ask at the honeybeer tent. The barkeep will know where I spread my blanket, no?” With a final half-bow, made awkward by the weight and shape of her rolled blanket, she vanished amidst the tents, the bright colors of her clothing and blanket swiftly becoming indistinguishable against the bright patchwork pattern of the Peiceland market.
Cassia stared at Trev with wonder. “You just stopped a riot,” she said softly. “With nothing but your words, you just stopped a disaster that could have ended with half the market in flames.”
Trev looked at her, startled.
“Do not think me a fool,” Cassia said acidly. “For even had you and I withheld from using our power, anger and alcohol have a way of ending in fire.”
“Then you finally understand what I am doing here” Trev asked, “and why I could not afford to spare even a day to see you safely to my school?”
“I do,” said Cassia, her expression filled with new respect. “And I want to help.”
posted by Andrea Peach | 2:04 PM
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