Confessions of a Neo-Luddite

from Jacqueline

Before I go any further with this business of blogging, which sounds so hip and cool, you must have guessed by now that I am the Luddite among the hip and cool here. You know the Luddites, led by good old Ned Lud in the early 1800’s - they were the fogies who didn’t want to move with the times, destroying machines that would render stocking-knitters obsolete. Now, I’m not going to dismantle anyone’s Spinning Jenny, but I am a techno-phobe, though I can talk the talk when I put my mind to it. The reason I am the Friday voice of Naked Authors is that I wanted the others to go first so I could see what I was supposed to do, and I needed time to get to grips with Patty’s excruciatingly simple instructions. Even after my first posting, she had to go in and save me because all sorts of weird things happened to my words.

And you may wonder why I rarely comment on posts by my fellow bloggers. Well, did you see what happened when I tried to send a comment to James the other day? It could have come from anyone calling themselves a naked author. I tell you, I have come so close to crashing the entire internet, I’m a threat to global communications. Every time I turn on my Apple, the web hangs by a mere thread. I have sent Patty so many emails with subject lines that read “Eeeeek” or “Sorry, but... “ or “Just another question ....” that she’s probably close to putting out a contract on me. I was once on hold waiting for the technician at Apple to come on the line to help me with a problem, and continued to fiddle-faddle with my computer just in case I could fix it myself – I know, it beggars belief, doesn’t it? Of course, I compounded the issue, and uttered the all-too familiar expletive appropriate at such times. I was mortified when a voice said, “Yes, we find that word really helps when the chips are down.”

Last year I invested in a UK cellphone because I travel there often and wanted a local number (apparently I can do something with a Sim card to adapt my US cellphone, but please, don’t confuse me ...). As you probably know, Britain is Cellphone Central, however they tend to do more texting than talking. People have whole conversations with you, break bread with you, and all the while they are constantly texting each other, fingers flying across the keys like spider-legs doing the cha-cha. As soon as I procured my cellphone – “mobile” in localspeak – I gave friends, family and my publisher my number, but added, “Whatever you do, don’t text me because I can’t text back.” The children of friends have tried to teach me the rudiments of texting, pressing the point that, “It’s simple, it’s an intuitive system.” Not until I can think my words onto that little screen will it be intuitive enough. I’ll stick to plain old voice-messaging.

Of course, technology delights me at times. I love the fact that I have a code-free DVD player, so that I can watch DVD’s from anywhere in the world, and I love the idea of wi-fi even though my iBook is a bit old to support it (four years – makes you laugh, doesn’t it?). My latest techno-gadget – OK, I know, you’ve had one for ages – is a memory-stick thing. My husband told me that my zip-drive was so “yesterday” and that I really should back up my work when I was traveling, rather than emailing anything important back to him to save for me, so why not buy a memory-stick? Who would have believed that this dinky little do-dad could hold all that information in its little insect body? Heck, I’ve seen bigger termites. And the fact that you can attach it to your key ring is just amazing, though I won’t do that because I have a bit of a problem with finding keys. And please don’t suggest one of those key-locator whatnots, because I am getting really fed up with things that buzz and beep and generally nag me with a tinny sound.

So, fellow naked authors and commentators, I do read everything, and love that I am part of the quintet (so tickled when Cornelia calls me ‘Our Jacqueline’), but you’ll have to bear with me if I don’t appear to be participating in the conversation - it takes every ounce of my techno-skill to send my post on Fridays.