I'd forgotten how many wires crisscross beneath my desk as I write at my computer. Yesterday, I was amazed as I looked at the puzzle that stretched out beneath my feet. My husband patiently untangled each wire and handed them to me one by one to attach to the appropriate opening on my new computer. I was thankful he knew the meaning and purpose for each of those little wires with the pretty colors on the ends because I didn't have a clue.
I wonder how many writers are out there like me, setting up scenes, lost in the magic of story, yet completely unaware of how our computers work, how we string words together and place them in a file to retrieve again electronically whenever we need them.
The other day I watched a movie about Virginia Wolfe and saw her writing her stories on paper with a pen that she dipped into a bottle of ink. Writing was so much harder then, I think. There was no magic locked in a little black box.
Perhaps though, the writer of that time had a far greater sense of accomplishment when he held the final product--a finished book--in his hand. It's much easier now to get published. There are so many writers out there that seldom is one writer unique.
Still, I am surprised, and pleased, when a perfect stranger walks up and is in awe of you, the writer.
As I look beneath my desk today, the maze of wires appears to have grown. I still don't know what they are. I only know there is magic inside the box that is my new computer. And I am glad!