You might think that in order to be a writer, you need a few basic supplies:  a computer, a typewriter (some people like the old-fashioned punch of the keys and the ding when you reach the end of the line), or even more old-fashioned pen and ink. 

I’m personally a big fan of Bic Round Sticks and a pretty journal (college-ruled paper only, please).  Especially for writing romantic and/or intimate scenes.  In my opinion, there’s something fundamentally wrong about typing a love scene.  The smoothness of the paper beneath your palm and fingers, the soft scrape of the pen tip across it, the gush of ink onto the page, the smudges of ink when you swipe your fingers across…it’s a sensual experience.  Typing is sterile. 

Also, I often find sitting in my office, even as great as my office is, a bit stifling to the creativity.  Some days I just want to sit in the chair-and-a-half and prop my feet up on the ottoman (as pictured below).  Or, especially in the fall and spring, spread a blanket out under the cherry tree in the garden.  Or, which may become a weekly occurrence for me, at Starbuck’s with a venti Green Tea Frappuccino.  All of which require me to leave my desktop computer behind. 

Alas, despite there being many reasons for me to write the old-fashioned way, publishers do not accept hand-written drafts.  Which is understandable.  Even I can’t read my own writing.  Let me tell you how difficult that makes typing up my drafts.  It’s terribly inefficient, even if it is sensual. 

So, in order to at least confront the problem of location, I have acquired a laptop, as a very early 27th birthday present from Mr. Burt. 

A beautiful, 17.5" HP. 

(Yes.  I, a life-long Mac user, have gone PC.  Can you blame me when it’s $700 for a computer, router, printer, and carrying bag vs. $1800 for a Macbook.  Okay, so you hardcore Mac users probably can.  You’re a hard lot to please.) 

The laptop’s equipped with Vista and Office 2007, and I can wirelessly access all my writing files from my Mac Mini from anywhere in the house.  Even from the toilet!  (Though I shall endeavor not to write while pooping.  The only sort of scene that could possibly inspire is a crappy one.)  Mr. Burt has set it all up for me in a way that is rather Mac-like to help me make the adjustment. 

And that is why the most important tool of the trade is a supportive spouse.  Thank you, baby!

Erm, for the record, I was not calling my husband a tool…

I’m not really big into spring cleaning.  Working from home, on my own schedule (which includes most Fridays off for grocery shopping and housework), I have time to clean my house pretty thoroughly on a regular basis.  Back in December I did a major purge of stuff, so I don’t really need to do that now.  Probably I could stand to wash windows and dust blinds and baseboards and vacuum under beds, but I’m not going to do it this spring.  I have six weeks to write four chapters, so any major cleaning projects will have to wait till May.  If not later.

Except for cleaning projects that involve the tools of my trade.  Today, in the midst of re-writing a scene I wrote yesterday but decided was crap, I couldn’t take the filth in my keyboard anymore: dust caked on the edges of the keys, bits of things that had dropped down inside showing between them. Since blasts of canned air didn’t do any good, I took an hour (that’s how bad this was) to take a tweezers to it and pop off all the keys and give it a good spring cleaning.

I laid out my keys carefully in QWERTY order so I wouldn’t get them all mixed up. Though I did think about putting them all back wrong to test my typing skills. My L, M, and N keys are all rubbed off anyway, so it’s not like I’m relying on them to guide me.

Anyway…I was in no way prepared for what lurked beneath the keys.  (Scroll no further if you are weak of stomach.)

If that didn’t make you throw up, why don’t you play that game where you stare at a picture and see how many things you can spot?  Can you find the:

- bits of paper
- Tostitos
- grated cheese
- Bacos
- fingernail clipping
- sticky goop that I vaguely recall being marmalade or jam that fell off an English muffin I was eating (and, presumably, some of those crumbs are English muffin)

Obviously the hair isn’t hard to find. But I’m slightly appalled to realize that apparently the work I do here is so stressful that a wig’s worth has managed to fall into my keyboard.  (I suppose it could be Dorrie’s fur…)  Of course, what really gets me is the combination of grated cheese, Bacos, and a sliver of fingernail.

Once the keyboard was all nice and clean (all the cruddies were kind of stuck on, too; I had to scrub it out with wet q-tips, and then vacuum the loose bits up), I resolved never ever to eat at my desk again…

…only to realize, a half an hour or so later, that I was munching on chocolate chip cookies while I worked.