March 15th, 2007


A Gentle Voice Complaining.

In short. . . .

Computer making unhappy ticking and grinding noises. Took to MacWizard friend, who downloaded hard drive (Thank you, MacWizard) and is going to replace the hard drive. In the meantime, am COMPUTERLESS (except when borrowing Ellen's, like now). My conscious self is resigned. My unconscious self, that dictates what I reach for when I sit down at my desk, is not with the program. I tap the (unplugged) keyboard. I click the (equally unplugged) mouse.

I feel foolish.

Tomorrow morning, early, I am going to ICFA, where I will not be able to work on the pieces I need to write by the end of the month for 1) WisCon; 2) The Nebula Committee; 3) the on-line zine connected to the Mythic Imaginations Institute in Atlanta, which is publishing a sample story from INTERFICTIONS. Which is having its debut at ICFA, which is why I'm going. NB, my computer will be ready to be picked up tomorrow, but I can't, because I'll be on a plane to Florida, wishing I had my computer to write 1, 2, or 3 on.

OK, I feel better now.