Toward the end of its days, Old Reliable looked like this:
That chair, which lasted nearly eight years, had to be replaced. We took Old Reliable to Goodwill in hopes that someone could fix it up and make something out of it. We played "Amazing Grace" on the bagpipes...it was an emotional time.
After fighting fits of uncontrollable tears, I finally bought a replacement. I assembled New Chair myself, expecting Old Reliable's successor to last just as long. It appears, though, that the daily process of butt-in-chair writing was too much for New Chair to handle. The fabric ripped and it started leaning to the right after about a year and a half. Here's how it looked:
Sure, it doesn't look that bad. Just try sitting in it. The snowman, by the way, is a sign that winter is coming for New Chair. It's getting a sendoff as well:
I don't know why Spock isn't there--we sent him an invitation. And before you get any fancy pants, J.J. Abrams-rehash ideas, we didn't launch the chair toward the Genesis Planet. Right out the torpedo tube for this one. No "Amazing Grace"--just pure explodey.
Old Reliable's gone. New Chair's a distant memory of inferior craftsmanship and space debris. What's next?
I have to have somewhere to sit when I write. I need a place to work on rewrites for III Crimsonstreak and polish The Franchise. Here it is:
I don't know what to call it yet. I just hope it's more like Old Reliable and less like New Chair. Because New Chair is a disappointment, like the Xbox One reveal and the Star Wars prequels. And Game 7 of the Eastern Conference Finals.
(This post was partially inspired by Cathy Day's piece on Writing Machines & Writing Spaces)