Monday, November 27, 2006

Over 40, and Can't "Hang Out"!

I'm officially old. I'm not hip. At all.

My son just looked at my blog for the first time and after reading my heading (Come hang out with me...), he informed me that I'm over 40 so can't use phrases like that.

Excuse me?? I must not have heard him right, because, after all, I am ancient.

What's funny is that I would have felt the same way if I had (shudder) ever heard my mom say "groovy", or even "cool". I would have died of mortification had my friends heard her say anything so ridiculous.

So I'm torn. I can either look like an old fogey who's totally out of touch with recent lingo. Or I can look like a fool by trying to stay halfway up-to-date.

Hmmm. I wonder which would embarass him most in front of his friends? Isn't it a mother's duty to choose the most embarrassing path for her child? :)

Nah. I'll be nice. I'll leave my heading as it is. And maybe if his friends visit my blog, they'll brag to him how cool, how groovy his mom is.

Come visit again soon!
Missy
P.S. Visit Lindi's blog (link on my main page) and see her posing for a photo with David Crowder at a book signing! I love, love, LOVE his music!!

Sunday, November 05, 2006

Computer Woes and The Art of Being Organized

Organization. The first thing I think of when I hear that word is my husband. And we are a good example of "opposites attract".

So guess where that leaves me.

He's a filer. I'm a piler. His hangers are all lined up and color coded (well, that's an exaggeration, but they are evenly spaced). My clothes are lucky to see hangers. (Isn't that what the backs of chairs are made for?) His toothpaste tube, razor, bottles of aftershave lotion and can of shaving cream have precise spots where they always reside. My cosmetics and toothpaste tube end up, well, wherever they end up. He eats the same thing for breakfast every morning and follows the exact same routine. I eat whatever strikes my fancy each morning and my schedule changes hourly.

So I guess you get the picture. :)

However, I'm much more organized with my writing, although you wouldn't know it by looking at my desk/area on the couch where I keep my laptop. I have nice files for everything on my computer. I have a folder for every manuscript, and a folder within those folders for every submission I send. I have an Excel spreadsheet tracking my number of words written daily or hours spent revising or judging or critiquing. I have another document that tracks each manucript for contests and submissions. I have a place for everything and everything in its place.

Except for the synopsis that I needed today as I was getting ready to print my revision to send off to the editor. NOT ONE COPY OF THAT SYNOPSIS THAT I COULD ACCESS!

The problem was that my old computer crashed every time I tried to open a Word document. I could click on "My Documents", then on that particular manuscript's folder. I could see that whole list of synopses I'd written over the months I had worked, and revised, and sent to contests, and revised again. Yet I could not get to them.

So then I had to go into piler mode. I dug through old piles of contest entries--all those dusty Priority Mail Tyvek envelopes. I found several for that manuscript and was thrilled! But then I started reading them. They were all an older version--a version I barely remembered. (Did the niece really have an appendectomy in that version? Did the heroine really propose to him halfway through the book?!)

At least I had something to go on. But it took me literally all day to write that synopsis. It's a draining activity, and I had to take a break to read email. Yes, I'm good at procrastinating, too. (And you guessed it, my husband has never procrastinated in his life. Of course.)

I learned a lesson today. No matter how oraganized we might be, files can still get lost or become inaccessible. I'm truly thinking about using one of those online backup services. Just think how much easier it would have been today if I had.

Any recommendations out there? Do you use one of those services?

Missy