The processor sputters. The little wheel spins. I wait. I wait.
Why do I still compose in Word? Its slowness grinds the concept of windows to a halt. The purpose of multiple composing spaces is to be able to jump from one space to the next, to cut and paste, to mix, to pull notes, to search, and so on. Word makes the process a burden. It opens with a crawl. Its bulky. It pretends to be all that it isn’t (Who is it kidding with that toolbar? Is this Photoshop? Quark? Illustrator?).
Ideology is king, however. I have Scrivener, and it is a far superior writing space. It is compact. It is quick. It has built in note features for files that make collecting and assembling far more accommodating than the Word method: have multiple files. Have multiple files? Folders. Files. My messy office pours out into my computer when I compose with Word. I’ve used Scrivener. I’ve written notes (notes, but no draft) for the Detroit book on it. But I haven’t written enough. Of course, not enough is a trope of writing. This time, I must avoid the trope. Each time I sit down to write, I open Word. My body (finger? mind? mouse?) has internalized Word. Word is a logic I’m trapped within.
This is just a post to remind me that ideologies sometimes need breaking. I must break the Word ideology.
Tomorrow. I promise. Or Tuesday.