“Technical Difficulties”

  

            Not blogging for a year means I’ve barely touched my printer. The first attempt to print last week generated frustration. My computer and printer no longer recognized each other. A little bit of “this-n-that” and an adjustment to the network let them communicate again. The next problem came from a warning for more ink. That solution entailed a run to Best Buy to purchase the last ink cartridge in their stock.

            Today, I wanted to print two poems I needed to add to the hardcopy of my volume of original verses. Stupidly, I forgot to input which page to print. The printer hummed and began cranking out the entire one-hundred-forty-two pages. Cursing, I instructed my computer to stop the job while David jumped in and shut down the printer right in the middle of a page! That created another set of problems—paper jams. In all of the years we’ve had this printer, we’d never wedged any pages into the machine. We accessed the back by unplugging the entire thing and moving it to the bed to remove the stuck poem.

            Reattaching the printer, I commanded for only that one page to print. The warning about ink appeared and nothing happened. That special trip to Best Buy to buy that final cartridge never ended with the ink finding its way to the printer! Instead, it rested on the lower self of my husband’s desk, waiting patiently for installation. Unfortunately, swapping out the toner didn’t immediately solve the problem as my computer kept insisting that the ink was low. We decided to restart everything.

            Victory! I printed out the three poems to add to my closeted hardcopy.

 

Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Blowing Off the Dust"

         Like many writers, I have my first manuscript hidden away. The yellow binder draws my eyes only when I make a forage into my closet in search of something else. I crafted the original draft on an old Amiga computer in the early 1990s. Remember 3.5 floppy discs? With diligence, I printed chapter after chapter using my new dot matrix printer. The book’s setting, Iraq, sent me to the library on weekly forays where I unearthed National Geographic articles, English to Arabic dictionaries, and a copy of the Qu’ ran. I loaded my car with textbooks and histories of the country and the entire Middle East while also dipping into novels and stories set in the region. I researched the old, hard way as I weaved my characters into real world places and events.

         I longed to write an entire manuscript created from one small idea and refine it into a draft worth publishing. In the year that I had to work on the novel, I penned a promising draft. Then, I had to return to full-time work.

         The printed story sat in a desk drawer. I occasionally pulled it out and polished passages. Sometimes I’d rewrite entire chapters. Sometimes I’d fine tune a phrase. Eventually, the manuscript shifted from a drawer to the closet into a nondescript box and became buried under life’s odds-n-ends. Our old Amiga gave way to iMacs and homebuilt PCs while the dot matrix printer shifted into obsolescence, and the novel drifted into the back corners of my mind.

         A few summers ago, I unearthed the box with yellowed pages of barely legible ink. I felt as though I’d neglected a child as I reread the book. Maybe driven by a little guilt, I retyped the entire text and printed a copy using my laser printer. I placed the pages into a bright yellow binder and positioned it on a shelf next to the notebook that contains the final, hard copies of my blog. There is no way I can let myself forget this manuscript yet again.

         On Friday, I decided to revisit this old friend. Delighted to find she’s aged well, I’m making her my next major writing project. I can’t wait to use the ease of the Internet to double check all of those details I used as I spun my narrative. Maybe the years I’ve spent sharpening my skills means I’ll finally blow off the dust from this story and share it with my readers.

Copyright 2018 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"A Printer"

            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