Big Fun and Whining

Nothin' but fun at work today!

The hard drive on my goddam laptop went belly up, eating everything I had on it. I don't leave much there, but I DO keep my writing stuff in a Temp directory. I always send a copy of what I do at lunch home, so I didn't actually lose anything, but I had nothing to work on at lunch today. What a pain in the ass! You don't realize how accustomed you become to a system until it dies on you. The laptop I'm on right now sucks turtle eggs - it doesn't even have a sound card! ARRRGGHH!!!

Hopefully, I'll get my regular system back soon. The I.T. guys are trying to reload the OS in hopes of giving me a chance at getting off the few files I had on it before replacing the drive.

On the renovation front: WE HAVE A CONTRACTOR! (WooHoo!) He came by last night and we signed the contract. He should be starting in about 1-1/2 weeks and thinks he can get it all done in 3-4 weeks of work. I truly hope so! It will be a major load of the wife and I to not worry about the house. It's been an albatross on our necks for years and it will be fantastic to just forget abobut it for a while. Tonight is Scouts, so limited on the writing front (though I will be e-mailing myself my latest stuff to work on the new system with)

I'm a little annoyed with myself right now. I don't like that I've been letting the writing routine slip over the last week or so. I was sick, sure: but there is the little voice inside that's telling me I'm wasting my time writing anyway. It wants to know why I'm knocking myself out writing hundreds of thousands of words that no one will ever read? That voice is certain (and I mean 100%, no doubts whatever certain!) that I will never make it as a professional writer. It keeps telling me to lay it aside now, when I can still tell people I chose a different life path and not have my complete failure become public knowledge. Sad, ain't it? I know better than to listen to it but it's a persistent little son-of-a-bitch. I know everyone out there who follows this stupid dream hears the same voice and I know I'll keep going no matter how many times it screams at me to stop but it's depressing as hell. There is a large part of me that believes that voice. A part of me that knows I'll keep writing till the day I die and never once know the satisfaction of seeing my name on the cover of a novel. The only part of me that thinks I can do it, sounds suspisciously like the same voice that tells me to play the lottery . . .

See? Pathetic.

So I'm annoyed at myself because I can't seem to keep the faith. Guess I'll just have to push my way through on pure stubborness. I know how to do that . . . it's how I've made 38 without winding up in a straight-jacket. Stubborn is the one thing I can do with a vengeance. Don't believe me? Just ask the wife! Her tales of my bull-headedness are many and legend!

Enough whining for now. Gotta run.

Later!