I have avoided posting this because, in all honesty, I have been avoiding the very thought of it. Maybe I've also been in denial...
It seems almost fated this would happen - the irresistible combination of having a toddler in residence, me possessing a relatively new laptop and, in hindsight, the misfortune of not having my work backed up - leading to the inevitable disaster.
About a week ago, still reveling in our victory with the One Week Challenge, Imaginary Self, going live on Amazon... my daughter decided to help herself and dumped an entire pitcher of water on my laptop. We tried our damnedest to dry it out - hoping it would resuscitate - but no luck. It's deader than Disco.
This happened at a time when we cannot, financially, afford to replace it or even to get it repaired. We are still behind on our bills after my maternity leave (because New York Maternity laws and pay suck ASS!) There is a distinct and depressing possibility that I may have lost all my writing and work from the past six months. We can only hope that when we are able to get the laptop serviced they will be able to retrieve the documents from the hard drive. If not, this will effectively halt and doom my goal of having the novel completed and publishable by next February. If the writing cannot be salvaged, I will be forced to start over again and truthfully, I don't have the heart for it right now. The loss has crushed me.
There is this deep seeded dread for any creative mind, of losing work we are really happy with and proud of. There was half a year (a fairly productive half year too) worth of work at stake. If lost, I fear I would be inclined to step away from it for a great while. It's like trying not to think about a recently deceased loved one - every reminder sinking you into sadness. I haven't decided what to do yet. Perhaps this is the denial at work - in my mind I keep hoping it's a bad dream and the computer screen will flicker on with a big flashing screen saying "Fooled Ya! LOL" or some shit.
For now, I am doing what I usually do when depression pulls me in that slow sucking cycle - distracting myself with cleaning... (I know - how domestically unlike me, right?) When I figure out my next step, I will let you know.
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