We Have a Desktop…Now What?

There is, technically, a desktop computer in the house. Setting it up is farther down on my list for the day, but I am eyeing the TV tray (still the only one of its kind in the Stately Bowling Manor summer quarters.) The inner editor is strong today, but the crackle of energy that comes with having my machine back is stronger. Inner editor can go stuff herself, because I am tired of her bullpoop.

This past Saturday, I attended my local RWA chapter meeting (CR-RWA) and had a chat with the lovely and talented Eden Mabee, on a couple of topics. First, was a discussion of  where new romance readers, and writers, might come from, and then, as another friend joined the conversation, about the books that got us into romance reading in the first place Historical romance, in particular. At some point, I mentioned that I have not only a TBR list (actually that is only codified in Goodreads. I am not sure I possess enough notebooks to write down every book I want to read, but a To Be Re-Read list, and a To Finally Read list. As I’ve gone through the turbo move, I’ve found myself skittering around the edges of both, though I checked off my second TBFR title this weekend…after first reading a duology by the same author, that had nothing to do with the book on the TBFR list. The book on the list actually starts off a quintology, with the author now writing books about the next generation of the family covered in the first five books. I am a sucker for generational sagas. Hero and Heroine of book one as parents of hero or heroine in a subsequent book? :makes grabby hands: See them again as grandparents, later on? Yes. Give. Me. That. Not to put pressure on this author for a third generation, when she’s already started on the second, and I have only dipped my toes in the first, but this falls in with you don’t ask, you don’t get.

Eden suggested that I might consider putting those lists on my site, which I will be doing, and maybe think about writing a post on my most re-read novels. I am all over that.  The idea of picking a top five floated around for a while. I want some more time on that, though I could name the top two, maybe three, right off the top of my head, no problem, no hesitation. I’m not  re-reading anything right now, though I am reading two authors I’ve been meaning to read for literally years. Double digit years, in one case Maybe both.

While I was at CR-RWA, Housemate went to the storage unit, and unearthed, among other things, my desktop computer and my box of desk babies, those special pens and notebooks that lived on my desk in the old apartment. Cue little kid on Christmas morning feeling. Pens, pens, beautiful pens. Hello, notebooks. I sifted through the boxes within the box, to make sure everybody was okay (yes, my pens are “everybody,” not “everything”) and heaved a sigh of relief when I ascertained that they were, in fact, all fine I am certain the same thing will happen when I bust the desktop out of its cardboard prison. In the past, when I’ve come back from a period of not having computer access, I’ve described it as like finally getting my voice back. This time,  and I don’t know precisely why yet, I would say it’s my hands.

Maybe that’s because of Real Life Romance Hero’s recent battles with his own extremities. Maybe it’s because I use my hands when I use both computer and pen and paper. Maybe there’s some other reason, but, this time, it’s hands. Fine by me. Hands do a lot of the work of writing, or a lot of the work of writing that involves getting the story in a form where others can read it . Important, that. I am not opposed to a good old-fashioned storyteller/bard kind of setup, and anybody who has known me for more than five minutes knows that I can talk pretty much forever, especially if there are stories involved, but there’s something in actually reading the written word, and in actually writing it, as well, that doesn’t come through any other means.

Maybe it’s because there is something therapeutic in whipping out the utility scissors and slicing through the packing tape, then opening the cardboard flaps, and uncovering what has been hidden away for far too long.


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