Most people think writing is a solitary, quiet job. Writers just sit in front of their computer screens and type away, occasionally breaking to use the bathroom or refill their coffee, right? Not so fast. I’m here to tell you that writing can be a hazardous job.
We face many perils on the road to novelization. For example, just last week, I forgot to charge my laptop, and my battery was dropping power quickly. With only fourteen percent battery life left, no power outlet in sight, and two hundred and fifty-six words left to go, it was a life-or-death race to try and get the story finished before the laptop died completely. Imagine the tension! My heart raced, my pointer finger cramped, and I even almost broke out in a sweat! Luckily, I finished in the nick of time, hit SAVE, then moved into the kitchen, where my next challenge was figuring out which coffee pot to unplug (I own three) so I could hook up the computer’s power cord. Would I cut the juice on the Mr. Coffee, which meant I’d have to reset the clock once I plugged it back in? Or would the Keurig take the hit, meaning I’d have to brew a whole pot of coffee if I wanted more (and I always want more)? It was a real nail biter, right smack in the middle of what should’ve been a calm, writerly day. (Ultimately, I yanked out the Keurig cord with a dramatic tug, then set the Mr. Coffee to brewing.)
The dangers of the job don’t end there. I recently told someone they had a cameo in a book I’m currently shopping around. I thought they’d be flattered. Boy, did I misjudge. They were all like “You can’t use my real name in there and then have me French kissing a camel!” For one terrified moment, I thought they might sue me. Then I decided they were probably kidding and were secretly flattered. I expect them to eventually admit as much, if they ever start speaking to me again.
Oh sure, you might think, you’ve had a minor inconvenience or two as a writer, but it’s not like you’re out there putting your life on the line. Guess what? I literally almost died yesterday!
It was a sunny, brisk morning, and I’d just opened a three thousand word short story I needed to edit. I had the coffee pot next to me, straw threaded through the little hole at the top of the carafe, and I’d used a special lint-free cloth to wipe the smudges off my glasses. All seemed well at my happy little workspace, when suddenly, it happened: the birds stopped singing, the squirrel out on the lawn dropped his nut and darted off into the woods, and I saw it. Right there, in the opening paragraph of “Of Giraffes and Men”: I’d used lay when I should’ve used lie.
A cloak of horror settled over my shoulders. My heart stopped beating for what felt like an hour, but was really probably more like a heartbeat’s time. Had I asked anyone to read through this story? Had anyone seen this egregious error? The room spun, my hands went numb, and I thought for sure this was the end. Death by typo. Oh, the shame!
With trembling fingers, I carefully hit BACKSPACE not once but twice, and, gasping for air, I tapped an i, then an e. I was dizzy and weak. Would I be able to hit SAVE before my heart gave out?
Good news: I survived to see another day. All I’m saying is, don’t judge another person’s profession until you’ve walked in their shoes. You have no idea how dangerous it is out there!
We face many perils on the road to novelization. For example, just last week, I forgot to charge my laptop, and my battery was dropping power quickly. With only fourteen percent battery life left, no power outlet in sight, and two hundred and fifty-six words left to go, it was a life-or-death race to try and get the story finished before the laptop died completely. Imagine the tension! My heart raced, my pointer finger cramped, and I even almost broke out in a sweat! Luckily, I finished in the nick of time, hit SAVE, then moved into the kitchen, where my next challenge was figuring out which coffee pot to unplug (I own three) so I could hook up the computer’s power cord. Would I cut the juice on the Mr. Coffee, which meant I’d have to reset the clock once I plugged it back in? Or would the Keurig take the hit, meaning I’d have to brew a whole pot of coffee if I wanted more (and I always want more)? It was a real nail biter, right smack in the middle of what should’ve been a calm, writerly day. (Ultimately, I yanked out the Keurig cord with a dramatic tug, then set the Mr. Coffee to brewing.)
The dangers of the job don’t end there. I recently told someone they had a cameo in a book I’m currently shopping around. I thought they’d be flattered. Boy, did I misjudge. They were all like “You can’t use my real name in there and then have me French kissing a camel!” For one terrified moment, I thought they might sue me. Then I decided they were probably kidding and were secretly flattered. I expect them to eventually admit as much, if they ever start speaking to me again.
Oh sure, you might think, you’ve had a minor inconvenience or two as a writer, but it’s not like you’re out there putting your life on the line. Guess what? I literally almost died yesterday!
It was a sunny, brisk morning, and I’d just opened a three thousand word short story I needed to edit. I had the coffee pot next to me, straw threaded through the little hole at the top of the carafe, and I’d used a special lint-free cloth to wipe the smudges off my glasses. All seemed well at my happy little workspace, when suddenly, it happened: the birds stopped singing, the squirrel out on the lawn dropped his nut and darted off into the woods, and I saw it. Right there, in the opening paragraph of “Of Giraffes and Men”: I’d used lay when I should’ve used lie.
A cloak of horror settled over my shoulders. My heart stopped beating for what felt like an hour, but was really probably more like a heartbeat’s time. Had I asked anyone to read through this story? Had anyone seen this egregious error? The room spun, my hands went numb, and I thought for sure this was the end. Death by typo. Oh, the shame!
With trembling fingers, I carefully hit BACKSPACE not once but twice, and, gasping for air, I tapped an i, then an e. I was dizzy and weak. Would I be able to hit SAVE before my heart gave out?
Good news: I survived to see another day. All I’m saying is, don’t judge another person’s profession until you’ve walked in their shoes. You have no idea how dangerous it is out there!
The horror!
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