Or, Where Do you Write When You Can’t Write?
I have an office. It’s a nice office. It has a nearly bar-height computer desk that used to be a kitchen table, upon which rests my favoritest desktop that I’ve had recently. I can stand there, foot on a 16kg kettlebell (it’s a good idea to move around and shift position periodically when you’re working at a stand) and type away to my heart’s content.
Or, more commonly, play the electronic slot-machines that are modern MMORPGs. Look, it helps me maintain a more or less passable façade of sanity, and I can quit again anytime I want to. Shut up.
As I was saying before I was interrupted, I can stand at my desk, surrounded by things to improve creative flow, fingers trying to make the sound of sizzling bacon on the keys of my sweet, sweet mechanical keyboard, and rock the writing process. It’s glorious.
When it happens.
See, I’ve got littles. An acute case, with no end in sight. What? That’s wonderful, I hear you say. Offspring are a blessing from Deity-of-choice (despite being an abomination unto Nuggan, but what isn’t anymore?), and a comfort as cruel eld saps the strength from one’s limbs, turns bright eyes dim and rheumy, and forces an entire suite of annoyance upon the unwilling.
I’ve got the littles, and I’ve got them bad. Wee-er Than Wee Dave Dave will be a whole year since nativity next week, and Wee Dave is not at all uncertain about letting Daddy know when he’s paying too much attention to junior partner. Wee Dave much mislikes Daddy’s explanation that while the Little Bit may be mobile (can ascend stairs by Bitself, Lord help me) younger sib still requires more assistance than Wee Dave does. Mostly, I just get hard stares and slightly betrayed expressions. *sigh*
So while I’ve got this great office (despite needing a very thorough going over) I don’t really spend much time in it. Especially since we’ve moved Wee-er Dave’s bed in there. For reasons of, “night-wean, you adorable but miserable little beast! Please?”
In point of fact, I’m writing this post, as I’ve written most things in recent weeks, on my not-as-smart-as-I-might-like phone (I’m still holding out for a cyberdeck, me), while ostensibly “playing” Lincoln Logs with Wee Dave. That is to say, the little tyrant directs me to construct edifices to his glory, and them smashes my puny offerings with his pudgy, godlike fist. Such is life.
Which brings me to my point. I’ve been grousing, at least in the relative quiet of the inside of my skull (only place I get any quiet, anymore) that I haven’t the time, energy, or opportunity to spend in anything resembling real writing. Well, I’m learning (slowly, but he can be taught!) that’s not precisely true.
Mostly, I’m adjusting what I think of as writing. I hate virtual keyboards with a passion. When it comes to crafting story, I think through my fingers, and if the haptic response is wonky, so is my process, and this makes for a grouchy Dave. For some time, I’ve wanted to get one of the laser projection keyboards from ThinkGeek or wherever sells them, but I’m nearly certain that whatever I’d gain in cool points, I’d lose in actual usefulness. Since writers are never cool, anyway, it would be a net loss.
So I’m sitting here, leaning against the corner of the couch, while Wee Dave inveigles me to knock off this bizarre tapping on your device, Daddy, and get me Second Breakfast. Naow! (My spawn are at least part feline on their Avo’s side.) and I’ve “written” (I’m concerned about repetitive use injury in my thumbs if this becomes a habit.)
The convenience factor, in this palmtop publishing is a bit of a thing. Seriously, I’m holding a powerful, little computer, the likes of which I can find in the pages of my favorite scifi. That’s not to be understated. And if I can use it to keep writing, so much the better. The downside is, well, mobile interfaces. This iThing is not ideal. I’m using Notes, which is simple and relatively intuitive. I’m fat-fingering like an ogre at high tea, though fortunately, the spell check isn’t terrible. I’m working at integrating the predictive text function into my writing for greater speed. And eventually, when I have the time (*sob*) I’d like to look into a better app for such things.
I’ve done fiction on the phone, and it’s a pain. Especially dialogue, with all the quotation marks and commas and punctuation that I have to flip virtual keyboards to even see.
Ultimately, it’s just different than how I like to work. I dislike running up learning curves. I do that often enough in parenting that I’d prefer to minimize it elsewhere. Stop laughing. The mobile notion certainly works for something like a blog post, however. I’ve heard of people putting togetherness entire nonfiction books on their phones. What about the rest of you? Have you tried writing on a personal mobile computing device (and camera, dictation tool (and don’t think I’m not debating that angle. It’s just the background noise of two littles (and the littlest is chatty!) that makes me wary) encyclopedia, NondiscriminatoryGameChild, map, GPS, and widget of undefined utility)? Does it help you write when you might not otherwise be able to? I’m thin I’m going to keep at this, and see how much of a tool-of-great-use I can forge it into. I’ll keep you all update, you beautiful, shiny writers, you