Several years ago, one of my best friends called me on the phone, practically in tears.
“Can I come over? I need cheering up. I just lost everything!”
“Everything?” I asked, thinking that his stocks had devalued or that he’d been robbed.
It was much worse than that – he didn’t know how to save his work to disk, his hard drive had crashed, and all his poetry and essays were lost.
What did I do? Why, the only thing that could–and should–be done under the circumstances: I taught him how to save to disk. Ok, ok, I did lecture him a bit. Alright, I lectured him over and over until he threatened me with untold horrors.
Well, it just happened to me.
“How could I have been so stupid?” you ask, and then add, “Shouldn’t you know better?” I’ve heard it all. Among other things, I teach people how to save to disk.
But a strange thing happened. I felt lighter, experienced an exquisite sense of release. I’m the proverbial phoenix rising from the ashes of my own flesh. Thank the Goddess! At last the Good Muse has rescued me from the clutches of the Evil Muse. I am saved…
Ok, I may be a bit eccentric, but is this really a normal reaction? Even my boyfriend is depressed. When I told my students about it, a few had tears in their eyes. Then there was the smart aleck in the back of the class who emphatically declared (with the requisite sarcasm), “Teachers are supposed to know better.”
Perhaps he’ll drop my class now that he knows I’m not infallible. This brings me even further comfort…
Even after hours spent restoring my hard drive with the recovery CD (and all that other techie stuff), I still felt ok. What I was really angry about was the hassle of reconfiguring, the lost e-mail addresses, and the missing WORD program.
Since writers just love tests (or should I say, “conundrums”?), here’s a short comprehension quiz to assist in processing the above information:
1. None of the writing was any good to begin with.
2. It was just notes.
3. It was stuff that was already published.
4. It was first draft material; the revisions will be better.
5. I spent way too many hours just doodling with the stuff.
6. The real stories will surface now.
7. It gives me an excuse to quit writing and just teach others how to write.
8. All of the above.
9. None of the above.
10. Other (fill in response in the space provided: )
Answer Key:
9. None of the above and 10. Other
Rationale: It just hit me. Ever since I was 18 years old, I’ve engaged in a bizarre ritual: I dump my old work in order to shift to a new level. This time, though, it was unintentional. Or was it? The Muse works in mysterious ways. I just wrote this essay, didn’t I? And where did the idea come from?
Originally Published in Writer Online
Terrie Leigh Relf lives in San Diego, CA, where she was raised with a steady diet of things supernatural. When she’s not hanging out with house spirits, remote viewing, or teaching English at San Diego City College, she pens the Poet’s Workshop (writersmonthly.us) and the Mistress of Rhetoric Column (The Espresso.). To date, Relf has published close to 300 articles, fiction, and poetry in a variety of on–and off-line venues. She keeps the Muse on a very short leash.
