Updated: May 12, 2019
Yesterday, when getting ready to send off my final edits of Close, I somehow changed the margins on my computer, freeing my sentences to run off the screen in both directions. Shocked, I watched as they made their getaway, holding hands, leaping from view.
I tried not to scream as I fast-walked my laptop over to my husband. Keith, an engineer before becoming a doctor, is used to fixing my computer screw-ups.
It’s part of our bargain.
He deals with electronic issues. And I don’t.
It’s a fair trade. Trust me.
Keith claims I could be hired by programmers to point out weaknesses in their systems. He has called me the Anti-Computer since college, coining the nickname when we went together to pick something up from Radio Shack. While my nerdy and handsome then-boyfriend talked shop with the salesman I (bored) started nonchalantly pushing random buttons on a keyboard. Suddenly every single monitor on display went dead and every eye in the store started shooting daggers in my direction. Keith practically threw his jacket over my head to hustle me out.
Since then, I’ve turned whole files into tiny rectangles, discovered uncharted and inescapable territory on the Internet and brought numerous friends to tears as they’ve tried to walk me through downloading pictures of their kids. At the request of others, I’ve had my device checked out for viruses (which felt a little dirty) but always gotten a clean bill of health.
It’s just me.
Last night Keith spent hour after frustrating hour trying to wrangle my novel back onto the screen. Eventually, citing a busy day and patient safety, he went to bed. And I went back to trying not to scream.
Fortunately I got word that my deadline isn’t really until next month.
Which should give me enough time to retype the thing if I have to.
Congratulations to Kerri who won the ARC of Close in the goodreads giveaway. Don’t worry it’s s a hard copy!