Busy morning today: something I thought was due on Monday is actually due today at Noon. I’m on it, and it’ll be done in time, but it’s not the lazy lie-in I had planned after writing about 7,000 words of coverage on the Droid phone.Nonetheless, it’s a busy and hectic morning. I keep needing to break away from the manuscript to check up on silly little details. “Is it ‘AppleTV’ or ‘AppleTV’?” (Space between, yes.) “‘iPod HiFi’ or ‘Hi-Fi’?” (I need to insert hyphens.) “What was the name of the CD player that Apple once sold? AppleCD, wasn’t it?” (No, “Apple PowerCD.”) Mornings like this put me in a mood of…not Existential Despair. But Spiritual Irkiness. “Why do I bother, o Lord?” I ask. (Buster, my life-sized stuffed Dalmatian doll, sits in for God, as usual. He is stoic and silent.) “Honestly. Does anybody even care?” I sigh. “What’s the point of what I do all day?” And then my MacBook goes “blnnnng!” and I tab over to see if my editor is checking in on the manuscript. It is an email from a reader. He has sent me a photo of Carrie Fisher and her double on the set of “Return Of The Jedi,” sunbathing in their Slave Leia costumes on Jabba’s sandbarge.
Buster the Dalmatian. He is the lamp unto my feet. I return to my labors, my burdens lifted, knowing full well just why I care so damned much about my readers.