.
.
I'm at the beach (wonderful!), which slows by nature — but the Net connection is painfully slow here, so I'm going to blame my absence on that. It's certainly part of it.
I have been working, although in a lazy way: Q&A for the P.S. section of the Canadian hardcover, another Q&A for the French film-maker, emails from my agent, my L.A. editor.
This morning I started the next draft of the plot, but was flummoxed by software. Grrr! Word 2008 is missing some critical features that it used to have: the capacity to print out comments, for example. Then suddenly -- something I did, no doubt -- caused the formatting toolbar to disappear. I could no longer even increase the size of the type. I spent way too much time trying to figure it out. Then I tried Mac's iWork Pages programme. This software has a lovely feel, and seemed easy to master -- but for one thing: how to split the screen?!
It seemed to me that both these programmes had loads of bells and whistles, but were lacking in some basic word processing tools. I ended up going back to Word 2004: I'm so glad I kept the old programme.
With all this, I actually did manage to get some plotting work done.
But now ... back to the beach! (May my friends and family in the North forgive me.)
Showing posts with label computer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label computer. Show all posts
Friday, January 9, 2009
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Unpacking
.
.
I'm at home (ahhhh) and unpacking, making lists — lists and lists and lists. First item: do not get overwhelmed!
I did fairly well with all that moving: I left behind four things. One, my wireless mouse. Too bad, but at least it's replaceable. Two, my Body Shop face cleanser, which I learned I can travel without. Three and four, books I was reading and very much enjoying. The first, Conceit by Mary Novik, has been generously resent to me compliments of the author. Thank you, Mary! It's a story told from the point-of-view of John Donne's daughter, every sentence a joy, and I'm eager to dive back into it. The other book lost was Ghostwalk by U.K. writer Rebecca Stott — another stunning historical novel — which I left on the airplane on the very last leg of this long journey. I'm upset by this loss! This book was signed to me by Rebecca, with whom I read in Kansas City — is not replaceable. So, I add to the top of the list: see if I can't track it down.
And, also on the list: prepare to have my MacBook Pro replaced. Apple has seen the light.
.
I'm at home (ahhhh) and unpacking, making lists — lists and lists and lists. First item: do not get overwhelmed!
I did fairly well with all that moving: I left behind four things. One, my wireless mouse. Too bad, but at least it's replaceable. Two, my Body Shop face cleanser, which I learned I can travel without. Three and four, books I was reading and very much enjoying. The first, Conceit by Mary Novik, has been generously resent to me compliments of the author. Thank you, Mary! It's a story told from the point-of-view of John Donne's daughter, every sentence a joy, and I'm eager to dive back into it. The other book lost was Ghostwalk by U.K. writer Rebecca Stott — another stunning historical novel — which I left on the airplane on the very last leg of this long journey. I'm upset by this loss! This book was signed to me by Rebecca, with whom I read in Kansas City — is not replaceable. So, I add to the top of the list: see if I can't track it down.
And, also on the list: prepare to have my MacBook Pro replaced. Apple has seen the light.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Not a happy camper
.
.
My personal well-being seems irrevocably tied to my computer, and right now both seem to be crashing. The computer is functioning, but has an intermittently threatening problem that casts a black cloud. Is this my guardian angel suggesting I break this addictive link?
No, that's not a possibility. I'm in this marriage for good, but right now I'm not feeling well-treated.
I'm a Mac Person: I've owned Macs since the first 128 K in 1984. A writer cannot change computers while writing a book: an upgrade has to wait for the book to be finished. For some time I held off upgrading to the new operating system, a new super-deluxe MacBook Pro. Last fall, with Mistress of the Sun finally into production, I made the plunge.
The beautiful computer I purchased did not always function, however. I spent hours on the phone to Apple Care. I took it into the Apple Store Genius Bar in Toronto once, twice, three times. Three times I was told: "fixed."
The third time is the charm: surely. I stuck a "History, I hope" post-it to the Computer Problem file and dared to take the new Pro on the road.
Where was I when that same old problem re-appeared? Boston? Kansas City? Milwaukee? I can't remember now — what I do remember is the depression that descended. Today, in Denver for a few nights, after the problem persisted, I decided to see what I could do. I called Apple Care and was given to believe that a trip to the Denver Apple Store would not be in vain, that I was justified in thinking a replacement computer was in order.
But no — at least not in Denver, and likely not anywhere in the U.S. (Which calls into question this concept of Apple "Care".) It was bought in Canada, I'm reminded by the Genius (who was likely not even born when that 128K Mac was created, I thought meanly). Further, it is a custom computer — and would therefore take many weeks to replace. (Such is the reward for adding RAM.)
And so, I'm left fuming — I love this damn machine, but Apple is letting me down.
.
My personal well-being seems irrevocably tied to my computer, and right now both seem to be crashing. The computer is functioning, but has an intermittently threatening problem that casts a black cloud. Is this my guardian angel suggesting I break this addictive link?
No, that's not a possibility. I'm in this marriage for good, but right now I'm not feeling well-treated.
I'm a Mac Person: I've owned Macs since the first 128 K in 1984. A writer cannot change computers while writing a book: an upgrade has to wait for the book to be finished. For some time I held off upgrading to the new operating system, a new super-deluxe MacBook Pro. Last fall, with Mistress of the Sun finally into production, I made the plunge.
The beautiful computer I purchased did not always function, however. I spent hours on the phone to Apple Care. I took it into the Apple Store Genius Bar in Toronto once, twice, three times. Three times I was told: "fixed."
The third time is the charm: surely. I stuck a "History, I hope" post-it to the Computer Problem file and dared to take the new Pro on the road.
Where was I when that same old problem re-appeared? Boston? Kansas City? Milwaukee? I can't remember now — what I do remember is the depression that descended. Today, in Denver for a few nights, after the problem persisted, I decided to see what I could do. I called Apple Care and was given to believe that a trip to the Denver Apple Store would not be in vain, that I was justified in thinking a replacement computer was in order.
But no — at least not in Denver, and likely not anywhere in the U.S. (Which calls into question this concept of Apple "Care".) It was bought in Canada, I'm reminded by the Genius (who was likely not even born when that 128K Mac was created, I thought meanly). Further, it is a custom computer — and would therefore take many weeks to replace. (Such is the reward for adding RAM.)
And so, I'm left fuming — I love this damn machine, but Apple is letting me down.
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