I Can't Believe It's Not Shakespeare

hey! remember that play that’s robbed me of my friends and my sanity? yeah! i’m proud to announce that i finished it. i’m less proud to announce that my computer was stolen three days later. damage assessment: 70 pages of the script i’ve been working on for nearly a year now were gone, along with the outlines I had used to construct them. best day ever.

the good ol' days

though i frequently look back on the days of the typewriter with false nostalgia, there’s no doubt that macbooks decked out with Final Draft have changed the writing process in many ways for the better. how great is it to be able to edit drafts instantly, format automatically, and have years of your work in an aesthetically-pleasing five-pound package? (pretty great.) unfortunately, what’s created with ease is destroyed with ease, and with that in mind i bring you:

the broody writer’s guide to blunting the pain of the computer disaster that will inevitably befall you too, (yes, you!):

• back up. yeah, this is some “no duh” advice, but even the best of us don’t do it enough. my last backup was May 22nd – just a little more than a month ago, but enough time for me to write 70 pages of a draft i’ll never get back. i keep my external HD on my desk instead of tucked away somewhere to encourage me to just plug it in and back up after i turn in for the night. (obviously this wasn’t encouragement enough but the idea sounded pretty clever at the time.)

• register with final draft (if you haven’t already). this is key. as long as you’ve done this, getting final draft up and running again on your new machine is as easy as pointing your browser to www.finaldraft.com, downloading the software and recovering your serial number via your registered email address. you don’t even need to keep the box. depending on what version of the software you originally purchased, your computer might tell you that you’ve tried to load the software on to too many machines, but a 2 minute call to final draft customer service will clear it up immediately.

• gmail is just about the greatest thing to happen to broody writers since coffee! upon finishing a significant draft email it to yourself – or to your collaborators – right away. it’ll then be accessible from any computer with an internet connection forrrreeeevvverr. (although i wasn’t smart enough to do this with the new play, such an action did save the new screenplay i’m working on with matt patches from complete annhilation. oh boy.)

• and speaking of coffee, drink coffee with lids. but in the event of a spill, don’t panic. turn everything off, unplug everything, remove the battery, and let your baby dry. it takes an absurd amount of willpower, but don’t turn your computer on again for at least 24 hours. the longer you wait, the more likely your data will be recovered – this is a case where impatience can definitely cost you big. Spills void apple’s otherwise generous warranty, but in the event of the worst, Tekserve offers spill cleanup at as reasonable rates as you’re gonna get.

• get over it. sometimes there’s nothing you can do but get writing again. you may end up with a completely different 70 pages than you had a week ago – but so what. your memories of what worked and the fresh start may bring about an even stronger product than you had before. all you’ve really lost is time. and you’re a broody writer – which means all you really love in life is writing and feeling sorry for yourself, right? i mean, this sounds like your kinda situation, pal!

- j.