When I think of writers, I think of dusty rooms with fingers of golden sunlight streaming through wooden tressed windows. The sill is wide enough for a coffee cup. Only recently I have permitted tea in my vision of writers.
They are all gifted debaters, conversationalists, debonaire and live their evenings in cafes, coffee shops and old book stores. Secure in themselves, no doubts, self-confident and successful.
There are comfortable leather chairs, in the various spaces that these mythical writers breath and live in. Books, important looking books surround them. No computers, No Tablets, No Smartphones, No Internet, No Software, No Hardware, only Wetware. Wetware the best technology in the world, too bad there isn’t a good operators manual.
In Reality, I am trying to learn software to help me write. The software lets me structure, organize, re-organize, re-write, outline format and print. I have access to a field of words unimaginable to authors of the past. Hardware allows us to carry our writing, our ideas, our stories with us.
We make our life stories as we travel through this milieu of electronic social environments, interacting with software to interact with others. We will find another word, for evolution, one that better describes how we are changing as a species. Until then, I will go read a book and hide from writing another day…