The other night, my husband and son
left our house on a mysterious “mission” and returned home with an early
birthday gift for me—a printer! They purchased a smart little Brother HL-2200.
A very basic Monochrome Laser that spits out pages almost faster than I can
type. Already, I love this little device.
Over the years, I’ve relied upon my
husband’s fancy Cannon, a machine that sucks ink like a gas-guzzler. This past
year, this temperamental copier has taken to whirring and complaining, and then
refusing to take up paper. It’s all showmanship.
And so I drifted into the zone of a
writer without hard copies. I slipped into an uncomfortable world where the
printed page doesn’t exist; where I fanatically email my drafts to myself out
of fear of hard drive crashes or other computer catastrophes.
With my Brother installed and
handily by my side, I’ve spent the last few days organizing and printing. The
shelf I’ve dedicated in my closet for hard copies now contains a two-inch
binder for drafts of my blog and drafts of poetry dating back to 1973! Next to
it rests a bright yellow notebook that houses the final draft of my first novel.
I’ve only had a working draft, covered with my personal editing and revising
notes, perched in the closet. I can’t believe how good it feels to have a
pristine final draft!
My current creation benefits from
this little printer, too. Currently, I’ve color coded various characters and
scrawled ideas and details onto notecards. Anyone knowing my handwriting
understands immediately the frustration I feel as I curse at my cursive. With
this printer, I can quickly type up and print notes for each created person,
making it much easier for me to double check facts and details as I weave my
story. And research now becomes a breeze. That Victorian Queen Anne one
character calls home? A Google search to
three or four sites and quick copy and paste and PRINT! I have definitions for
witch’s caps and strap work at my fingertips.
I
know many people persistently preach, “Print is dead!” But not in my house. Not
anymore!
Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
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