So I signed up for another writer’s class. Four weeks through the Guppies Group of Sisters in Crime, of which I am thrilled to be a member. There is no better group of people to hang with than those who also spend their days trying to think of ways to off people without getting caught. The Guppies are the great unpublished of the membership. That’s me.
The whole thing is on-line, so what can go wrong, right?
Let’s start with the basic truth that I don’t really play well with others and crowds creep me out. So taking a class on-line, where I don’t have to go anywhere and I don’t have to interact with people in person is just the best idea since sliced gluten-free pumpkin bread.
Technology is involved. And me and technology are barely on speaking terms. This computer is the spawn of HAL 9000 and it is always trying to kill me in my sleep. Having failed that, it is now trying to drive me crazy, a la Gaslight.
Turns out, this class has 50 participants. We all submit our work via email, to the WHOLE group. Then the instructor responds to the WHOLE group. Then some students feel compelled to make comments to the WHOLE group about the submissions and responses.
That damn gmail pinger is pinging incessantly all day as my gmail inbox fills up with all this interaction with PEOPLE I DON’T KNOW.
I am not sure I am going to survive 4 weeks of my email box being deluged and HAL jr. is laughing its electronic ass off. It is a mere short stroll to the edge of the cliff, over which my sanity threatens to careen.
And that is why God made Pinot Noir. It allows one to be impervious to scheming electronical devices and an overflowing email inbox.
God also made the “mark all read” and “delete” buttons. Screw you, HAL jr.