Today may have very well been a disastrous start to this weekend. I returned home from an exhausting day at work, freshened up and had my lunch and everything, then I turned on my laptop. Or at least tried to turn it on.
Windows was starting to load, then suddenly the screen turns black and I get a message telling me that Windows has failed to start-up and I should let Windows try to fix the damage. My first thought was, “Well, laptop, we’ve had a good run. But please try to fix yourself, okay?”
I watch it expectantly, the panic has yet to settle. Then a thought occurs to me: “Did… did I back up?”
Did I back up my final typed version of Puppet Parade? Did I back up the final draft of The Muse Bunny, the novel I’ve been slaving over for more than four years? Did I back up all my other WIPs? My ebooks? My pictures? My videos? My chat logs? Anything?!
I realised that I, in fact, did not. I failed to do the thing I always advise other writers to do. I started to panic. I looked pitifully at the progress bar, begging it to fill up quickly, pleading with my laptop not to fail me. Then the screen goes blank again.
Oh god my laptop died.
Then I saw the battery blinking, and I breathed in relief. I plugged in the battery and the progress bar started up again. Phew. I waited for like an hour for the progress bar to fill up, then I was told to restart the laptop. I waited with bated breath to see if Windows could load properly… and it did! I was ecstatic!
Then I dutifully started backing up everything I could see on my trusty Dropbox. The moral of this little story? Always,alwaysback-up, or you’ll end up like me, begging a piece of machinery to work.