Recent ‘printing’ inspirations

November 7, 2009. I have of recent, been polishing a novel, that I was to print and send. Anticipating the project, I faced two options that I’d considered choosing the lesser of two evils: print it on my office printer, or put it in the hands of Kinko’s to print 400+ pages that were so carefully synchronized to manuscript form.

When push came to shove, the novel was primed for print, I realized it was not the “lesser of two evils” at-all. The choice was obvioius. I just had to cozy up to it.

Here’s why I’d originally considered them both “evils:” Every major job I’d turned over to Kinko’s, they flubbed. Almost artfully, because whether I’d sent an assistant to a location plus established a Kinko’s contact via phone and e-mail, to described — and followed up on – intricate details such as the separation of paper types at certain “title” pages, or when to stop printing double-sided … Whether I’d arrived in person and explained — they always made mistakes that cost me specialized paper, plus trying to fix what they flubbed. No matter how hard I strived, they cost me more time and strife. How could I figure on it being different this time?

Now my office printer, had in recent months, digressed to being able to print one page at a time. Even after cleaning it, changing cartridges, and testing a mere “two pages” for it to take, it jammed the two pages together. So the “printer” alternative was to print my novel’s hundreds of pages, one by one, while standing over the machine.

‘Twas not an option to replace the printer. It still printed fine (and faxed, copied and scanned documents). I would not be wasteful; I would not toss it until it had exhausted its capabilities. At that time, I’d toss it in an environmentally safe manner.

Well, I resolved to printing the novel per the office printer. I was squeamish at first, about hovering over it as it plucked out page by page. Yet, in printing the first three chapters, the printer did swell job. Page by page, it slid the chapters out.

Suddenly, it made perfect sense. I poured myself pink champagne, and set a chair by the printer. I had a stack of fresh paper on my lap, to feed one by one, and to take one by one and stack once printed. I had pink champagne at my fingertips, and everything was fine.

While doing so, I pondered “Time:” the more we try to rush it, it seems, the more we lose it. I recalled those long summers during grade school days; I had taken each day in stride, and each day was rewarding and long.

Perhaps being a friend of Time, instead of trying to beat it, made it most rewarding. It sure was tonight, once I adjusted to the “slower” route.

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