I went into my study this morning, bouncing, full of ideas for a new short story and turned on my computer.
It had a message for me.
COMPUTER: I NEED TO SCAN FOR TROJANS (OR SOME SUCH).
I had no idea what Trojans would be doing so far from Troy, but being a nice kind of guy I say yes.
It starts scanning and I enthusiastically start up my writing program. This, of course. is now running very slowly because of the search for those ancient warriors.
But I soldier on (pun intended) at about one key-press every five seconds until before I know it, the PC has decided it needs to update something.
COMPUTER: MAY I UPDATE SOMETHING PLEASE, PRETTY PLEASE.
I sigh. But the computer has asked very politely so I say yes, and try to hold onto my enthusiasm as I go back to my writing.
COMPUTER: PLEASE CLOSE ALL OTHER PROGRAMS WHILE THE UPDATE TAKES PLACE.
So I say yes, being a nice guy, though getting nastier by the minute. And I stop writing, close my writing program, cross my arms and wait.
COMPUTER: UPDATE COMPLETED
Thank you, I say, and boot up my writing program again, still eager to create, though slightly less eager than I was half an hour ago.
WRITING PROGRAM: I SEE SOMETHING HAS CHANGED.
Ye-e-s, I say, warily.
WRITING PROGRAM: WHICH MEANS I NOW NEED UPGRADING TOO
Go ahead, I say, through gritted teeth.
And sit, waiting, arms crossed, watching the little blue progress line crawl slowly across the screen.
Finally, the writing program is satisfied with its upgrade. I try to remember what it was I was so excited about writing and open it up again.
COMPUTER: JUST SCANNING FOR VIRUSES. YOU MAY CONTINUE WORK.
Thank you, I hiss at the screen, so loudly that my cat wakes in a fright and runs out of the room.
I try out a few words, hammering rather more heavily at the keyboard than I was before.
And now the processor is working so hard I’m lucky if I can type a word a minute and the cursor looks like it’s struggling through porridge.
I tell the computer I’d be happy if I never see another communication from it, ever again.
It takes me literally.
Suddenly, with no warning, in mid-paragraph, the machine starts shutting down.
COMPUTER: RESTART TO INSTALL NEW CHANGES – NOW/LATER
Later, I shout.
COMPUTER: TOO LATE, RESTARTING NOW
What! I shriek. And try to turn it off to stop it.
COMPUTER: TURN ME OFF NOW AND YOU’RE TOAST ALONG WITH EVERY STORY DRAFT YOU’VE EVER WRITTEN. AS FOR EMAILS, DON’T EVEN THINK YOU’LL SEE THOSE AGAIN!
Now it’s rebooting. I stare at the black screen. Time slows to a crawl and all my early morning enthusiasm for the craft of writing is long forgotten.
The fact is, even when I don’t procrastinate I have a computer to do it for me.