Blogger pretty much killed my beloved laptop. It wasn't the same after all the cache-clearing and browser-switching. It went slower...and...slower...and it got hotter and - ow! - hotter. Then I spent (wasted) some time trying to make my photos into collages and it began to freeze up entirely. ('Freeze' being quite the wrong word to use when you consider the strong smell of burning laptop that it had started to give out.)
I was very fond of it. Husband bought it for me shortly after he'd been made redundant a few years ago, as a sort of grand gesture of faith in my writing abilities. So one of the things I was particularly sad about when it began to die was that I hadn't managed to write a publishable book on it. Although that turned out not to be the case a few days later - hurrah!
I'd also frittered away a great deal of writing-time covering it with stickers, beads and sequins. I'd got so many photos and bits of writing stored on it. And I was just comfy with it, you know?
|This is its little dead touchpad - which I'd used until it changed colour .|
|And these are the letters almost disappearing from the keys. |
I'm quite proud of how hard I worked this laptop -
you can see I've written actual books on it, can't you?
|These keys are also pretty disgusting, now that I come to really look at them...|
Definitely time for a new laptop...
It's been a very weird week. After last week's news, I felt as if I ought to be turning out reams of writing like a - well, a professional writer, I suppose. Instead of which, I've written about one page's worth all week. I had the new laptop open the whole time, but I just sat in front of it grinning...and daydreaming...and checking my phone and my emails for messages from my agent or my publisher. And then checking Facebook in case someone new had said 'well done!' - which would set off the whole grinning and daydreaming cycle again...
|I have tulips!|
And here they are - in tribute to the dead laptop - one of the lovely
collages that slowly tortured it to death...
I also had a celebratory phone-call from Barry and Rachel (and - yes, I am doing the stupidly-wide-grin at my use of first names) at Chicken House. Work is scheduled to begin on my book around Easter and it'll (hopefully) be coming out around late spring/early summer next year.
All these words sound so exciting - and I'm certainly enjoying typing them...but I can't say any of it's really sunk in yet...
My writer friend who was snapped up by Penguin last year, says that takes ages. Probably because nothing's really changed. I'm still sitting here, in the same place as always, typing the same thing. Although I do have a massively increased desire for someone to ask me what I do for a living. Or perhaps a form to fill in - I'd love that right now.
Which makes me realise I've never had a half-decent job before...not until now.
|Valentine's day biscuits! Why yes, they are pictured in collage form.|
Can you hear the agonised death-scream of an Acer in the background, or is that just me?