"Plague time" fell down on me like a domino run: first, cancelled exercise classes, then on-site work was restricted, then shelter-in-place throughout first the county and then the state so everyone would STAY PUT. From there, it was a frantic race as organizations, businesses, friends, and family set up virtual meetings for nearly every aspect of life.  I now attend Zumba on Zoom, participate in work meetings with WebEx and Microsoft Teams, take part in a weekly Feldenkrais body awareness class that uses Jitsi, and attend virtual critique meetings on Google Hangouts Meet. For family and friends, we use whatever folks are most comfortable with, usually FaceTime, Zoom, or Meet. My mind is a whirl as I try to keep it all straight. It's like going zero to sixty in—wait, I have to look up how quick the the fastest cars can accelerate —two-plus seconds. It's ludicrous. (And who knew Tesla made a model called the Model S P100D Ludicrous+ model ??) Anyhow, it has b...

This post was first published here on November 27, 2013. Prior to the invention of the Internet, writers holed up in their attics, alone and palely scribbling, fantasizing about an elusive publishing contract. They spent sunny afternoons deep in the bowels of libraries flipping through the card catalog and paging through thick reference books. Scribes developed callouses on their fingers. They sported perpetual ink stains from writing draft after draft on paper they wadded and tossed in bins. They longed for someone, anyone, to talk to about their passion. They were isolated introverts with impossible dreams, often in desperate need of a critique group or at least someone to help with plot snags or elusive titles. Then some smarty pants invented the electric typewriter, which led to the personal computer, which led to the Internet. Writers were able to research from the comfort of their living rooms while still in their bathrobes. They could draft and revise a hundred ti...

November is the month of giving thanks, so I thought I’d tell you all what I’m thankful for. I’m thankful I didn’t kill someone. Two and a half months ago, my computer black-screened. I turned it on and got nothing. So I took it into a tech guy. He spent a day checking it out and then said he could save all my data, clean up the computer, and put the data back on – or, since my computer would probably die within a year, he could get me a new laptop and put everything on it. I opted for the new computer. During that time, I called him during office hours several times and he didn’t pick up. I left messages and he never called me back. He called me one time. The only way I could get him to talk to me was to show up in his office and stand in front of his desk. I’m thankful I didn’t go kung-fu on his behind. (And am thinking I should possibly learn some kung-fu.) He loaded some, but not all of my data. He put Palm on my computer, but none of the years of info I had input. And now ...

My name is Helen Ginger and I’m addicted to my computer. I had never thought of myself this way until a month ago when my computer crashed, black-screened, nada, nothing, dead as a doornail. My worst fear. If you’ve ever experienced that, it probably became your nightmare as well. Fast forward a month and I’m still without my computer. I’m waiting. Patiently. Okay, not so patiently. My iPhone is not suited to checking and writing email. I can get some things done on my iPad and, when my husband’s out of town, I can use his computer. There are things even his computer can’t do. Only my computer has Dreamweaver on it, the software I use to update my site weekly. Or…used to update weekly. Not only am I an editor, I’m a writer. Part of that “worst fear” of losing my computer is that the tech guy may not be able to retrieve all my data, including the manuscript I was working on. The good news is that I immediately emailed my friend and fellow editor to see if she still had the copy I ha...

If writers worry like I do, then they are always looking for new places to save their literary babies. I have jump keys, I have an e-mail account where I send work. I also use Carbonite , where for about $50 a year, everything on my laptop has a home in cyberspace. Recently, friends introduced me to Dropbox , and I love it because I can download it on all my systems and no matter where I go, if I drop something into my dropbox, I can open it on all my systems and can retrieve it from any computer by going to the website. I feel a lot better knowing that my work is secure somewhere -- now I need to remember to update my work in all these places. Where do you save your precious writing? ----- Writing in 140 is my attempt to say something somewhat relevant about writing in 140 words or less. ~~~~~~~~~~ Shon Bacon is an author, editor, and educator. She has published both creatively and academically, and her debut solo novel, Death at the Double Inkwell is now available f...

In the spirit of this holiday season, I thought I would share a memory of a special gift my husband got for me one year.  He has always supported my writing habit, and this year was no exception. They say - whoever "they" are - that when it comes to gift-giving, it's the thought that counts. While I don't always agree with everything "they" have to say, I have to give them this one. My husband puts a great deal of thought into not only the present but the presentation. It isn't enough to merely hand over a package for some occasion, he has to somehow turn it into an event and over the years we've been together he's devised numerous, and often complicated, ways of surprising me. Once he initiated his Christmas charade the week after Thanksgiving. It began with the announcement that this year he was going to be practical about my gift. Perhaps he'd build the bench in the kitchen I'd been wanting. Since I really liked the bench when he...

Over the weekend, I read a wonderful story written by a twelve-year-old student. I found two mistakes and attempted to point them out. But the young lady in question, being of the ripe old age of twelve, was ever so much smarter than any silly adult. "Oh no," says she. "I spell checked it." Every year, more and more people, not all of them twelve, fall into this trap. As electronic tools become more powerful, we are lulled into a false sense of security. We believe the tools are looking out for us. My word processor doesn't even wait for me to request a spell check - it corrects words as I'm typing. And the editing doesn't stop with spell checking, it also boasts a grammar checker. If only. I use many e-tools and am not aware of a single one, or any combination of tools that can replace the human brain. All electronic tools are not created equal, but I used one of the most popular word processors for the following example. The tool uses green underlines ...