Laptop Hard-Drive - Answers Welcome!!

Last week I had to take my beloved Dell in for the following reasons:

     The "Q" loves sticking so I literally have to whack it a few times
     The mouse pad on the laptop doesn't work, well it does on and off, but I have to have a legit mouse in order to use it at all
     The DVD/CD drive doesn't work


Yesterday I finally picked it up, to learn they had tried to call several times. Seems as though I left my number, but they only used my mom's. Meh.


While speaking with the Geek Squad representative, he informed me that my hard drive was slowly dying and that I needed to back up everything on my laptop. Get a Google Docs account, online storage, or massive external hard drive to store everything.


Coming home I spoke with my father about it, as he's a tech and basically does everything GS does, only for oil rigs and stuff like that. He told me to run my own diagnostics and see what happened.

Now, I know the 1-4-2 is the sound of death for any laptop.

I figured, nah, mine won't do that! My laptop is invincible!

I've had this Dell since 2012 (thereabouts) and have never had a problem .... until now.

Last night, once it completed the other tests I heard the dreaded noise.

One beep.

Four beeps.

Two beeps.

Now I'm trying to make room on some external hard drives to move massive amounts of music, movies, pictures, and all of my writing.


Do any of you have an idea about what kind of hard drive to replace this dying one with?

Despite being a bit broken, my Dell still runs and functions faster and better than the HP I bought almost two years ago. (By a massive landslide!) (And no crappy Windows 10 either!)


Leave any suggestions below, or comment with any suggestions you might have.

Have a fantastic week!

Works In Progress....WIP Week

Having read other blogs I've noticed an interesting trend. Those bloggers often post a WIP (Work in Progress) of the projects they are currently working on. This has always intimidated me for numerous reasons: will I get any response back, will they like my work, will no on steal it?

Setting these legit fears aside, I'm going to share a few snippets of a novel that I am co-writing with a friend of mine. We came up with the idea and outlined it, though I will be the one writing it.

The basic synopsis is: 32 is a collector. He has a list of 32 objects that he is on the hunt for. Mira comes to Tortoise Island to start over in life. Little does she know her new landlord has secrets he's not enthusiastic to share.

(Still working on a better synopsis, but as I said, this entire thing is a work-in-progress.)

Despite the size of the island, the town was surprisingly small. It would appear big to anyone who hadn’t actually been to the main land – or to someone who lived in isolation on some other uninhabited island. This town was rather minuscule. The main street flowed from the large street market (probably composed of locals, and others from the surrounding islands who came to vie their trades and wares where there was actual money to be made), and continued along the route of the shops. There was a store for practically any occasion or ailment: herbs, fruts, paper and pen, clothes, boots, shoes, outerwear, coats, rain gear, fishing implements, baking goods, electronics (though that was rather bare and no one was lining up to get in), a watch repair with added bonus of making your dream watch (at cost!), hand carved furniture, windows, doors, cabinets, beds, mirrors, guns and other weapons (separate for knives and other bladed), and a store strictly for water (which Mira hadn’t realized was a thing.)

There was a shop for every need that could arise when living secluded on an island.

At least there’s no real chance of getting lost here, she mused about it. It was a far, far cry from the last place she’d lived. A city with streets going every direction, places to run and hide. This was more open, more likely to remain a safe place no matter what happened.

A few minutes later she saw the stone fountain that Jason Jones told her about. It rose up in the middle: a man poised with a trident high above his head, aiming down at the beach below. He wore a laurel around his head, and someone had been decent enough to give him a palm leaf for added cover. There was no water coming out, and the basin around the bottom was utterly devoid of liquid. 

Walking around it she wondered why the trident was so important here.

Eh, maybe it’s a water thing; she sat on the edge of the basin to look around the ‘square’.

Facing into the island on her left was a large hotel, four stories high with an impressive widow’s walk on the top. There were balconies on each level with ornate iron cast railings to prevent people from falling off. A sign above the door indicated it was, “The Hotel Badro”. She suspected there were at least three floors worth of vacancies.

Directly in front of her, facing back down the main street, was the Town Hall. It was lower than the hotel, but more intricately carved. Whoever the architet had been, had taken inspiration from past lore and legends of the Far Seas. The columns along the front, forming the archway leading to the stairs, extended around the building, making it appear more like an ancient temple to some long forgotten god or goddess. While the hotel had been a lighter shade of brown, the town hall was a light marble, almost pink in the right color. There were windows lining the two floors, and a balcony on the second almost directly above the main doors. A rather tedious, spacious building, in her opinion.

On the right, where Mr. Jones had previously indicated down at the docks was the place she’d come.

Raven Ark lived up to the name: dark wood formed the main frame, while stones had been dyed to match the cover, lined up to solidify the structure. There was only one story, but it was almost as tall as the other two building around the square. There would likely be another floor or two once you walked inside, but the façade was rather misleading. Above the door was an intricately carved raved, wings spread out, beak shut, hovering above the sign. It sent a chill through her despite the warm air.

She needed to find housing as soon as possible. Living on her schooner, the Rose Bud, wasn’t a problem for her. She’d done it countless times on her own travels, but having a house on the land seemed like a dream come true. Someplace she could lie down and not worry about drifting off, or having someone play at piracy and storming aboard in the middle of the night.

“Alright, let’s see what Mr. Stort has to offer.”

Adjusting her bag so that it was tighter against her hip, she drew her hat a little lower over her face. Heading through the doorway she noted a burly looking chap with tattooed muscles just inside the dim interior. He was sitting, arms folded over the massive chest. Glancing over she raised her head slightly and gave him a slight nod, which he returned, curious. Stepping past the entry hall and into the main room as her eyes adjusted she could make out a rather typical bar setting; long counter running the length of the back wall, tables scattered throughout the room with three to four chairs each, a large stone fireplace on the wall to her far right, and directly to her left a set of stairs leading up to the second floor. There were decorative pieces of art around the walls, scenes depicting the island, shops, the people. There were a few carved masks from the Dark Continent. Even a couple of rugs on the floor, and some on the wall that appeared more battered and beaten than any she’d ever seen in her life.

The majority of the tables were already filled to maxium, some pushed together to add more room for larger groups of people. The bar was mostly filled up too – leaving scant seating for anyone else. It didn’t seem possible for there to be as many people out in the market as there were in the Raven, but she was beginning to suspect that nothing on this island would be normal, or even remotely sane.

Knowing she was being started at made it easy for her to tilt her head to the side, obscuring her face to the majority of the room as she headed towards and empty seat on the far left corner of the bar. 

Without removing her bag she took a seat, sliding her hat around so that she could see the others around her. Her seat was next to the flip board where the bartender used to go back to the store room (a door just to the left and behind her), or out to the tables when things became too rambunctious.

“What can I git for ya?”

The hulk of a man in front of her wore a rather tight black shirt with a white cloth draped over his left shoulder. She assumed he was wearing dark pants to match. His skin was well tanned, matching his dark hair, and dark eyes.

“A Simple Twist with Lime, shaken.”

He grinned, nodded and headed off. A moment later he came back with her drink.

“Anything else I can do you for?”

Aha, word play, she cringed.

“Yes, I’m looking for Bram Stort, I was told I could find him here.”

The bartender grinned, then motioned over to a booth on the far side, “He’s over there, talking with 

32.”

“Excuse me?”

She blinked, unsure whether or nor she’d actually heard him right. No one would have a number for a name, would they? Well – presumably not. It was plain stupid.

“32,” he gave her a white grin, “Stort’s been after him for a long time. Man has this mini house 

located on the beach, on his private land, and Stort’s been after him to sell. Or at least let Stort take care of it – so he can cash in on the commission.”

“Oh,” she formed the letter with her lips, puzzled by that. “Would it be rude to go over and – ”

There was a scuffle in the back booth. She saw a small, well structured man, well tanned like the majority of the islanders, fall out of the booth. She assumed this was Stort, because he had a briefcase that was tossed after him. After a moment, he stood, picked up his case, adjusted his hat which had tilted, but remained on his head, and left.

“What was that about?”

“32.”

The bartender lifted his arms lightly, let them drop then resumed his work.

Sipping on her drink, she watched the far booth, wondering what had transpired to warrant such a public rejection, and humiliation, for the poor real estate agent. Whichever the case he was gone now.

Cripes, I should have followed him!

Cursing her stupidity and lack of motivation – or rather, the fondness for watching others in action – she sat back.

Wait, the bartender said this man, this 32, had a house on his property that’s not in current use . . . maybe. . . .

Acting rather temerarious for the situation, she finished her drink, stood and headed over to the back booth.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for 32?”

It came out more along the lines of a question than an actual statement. She had what she’d wanted to say rehearsed over the walk to the booth, but now that she could see him properly, she wasn’t quite so certain about her general approach, or the tactic in gaining a decent conversation.

She was at a loss for words because the man in front of her wasn’t the man she’d been expecting. He was so completely  . . . different . . . from what she’d been expecting. From the way the bartender had spoken his name, the laugh, the serious expression in his face – it’d made her think of some scarred, moody, thief.

This man was so – so – normal.

“Would you care for a seat?”

She blinked, shaking her head. Her mouth snapped shut when she realized it’s been open the entire time.

“Yes, thank you.”

He studied her, she studied him.

He was wearing a white suite – completely white, shirt, vest, jacket, trousers (you simply couldn’t use the word pants for him), and white loafers. On his head, covering what she assumed was dark brown hair, sat a traditional Panama hat. The black bank seemed out of place on him. She stared at him, taken back by his rather fierce hazel eyes.

“What can I help you with, Miss –?”

“Parish,” she automatically responded. “Mira Parish.”

He smirked, an expression that was both lovely, and one she wanted to slap right off of him.

“32.”

This is a middle scene, after I established the island. Please let me know what you think. I'll do my best at posting more little bits each month, possibly using the 3rd Tuesday for my WIP's, maybe switching it up with other things I'm working on besides this novel in the making.

Have a fantastic Tuesday! Don't forget to leave a comment below with anything that you are working on! I'd love to see all the creative ideas flowing around the world.

Fairy Tale - Fatal Tale

Over the last week I've read three, yes 3 books. They are the first in a new series that I've picked up. A Cozy Mystery Series that will take you into the year 1867.

The first novel, "Snow White Red-Handed" takes us from a steamship out of New York to the fabled castles that was reported to have belonged to Snow White.

Follow Ophelia Flax and her friend Prudence (Prue) Bright, two actresses who've lost their jobs, now take on the role of maids.While working for a millionaire's wife they uncover a plot in regards to daughters who are not daughters and sisters who are not sisters.

Here we meet Professor Penrose, a studious teacher from England. Together they track down a killer who used an apple laced with cynaid.

Follow them through the first casino, through the Black Forest, and deep into the mines of Snow White's seven dwarves.

With all the fun humor of the time (an ankle!!), this will be one of those reads you simply cannot put down!

There are two more novels in the series (hopefully more to come, more to come!!)!!

Here you have it, wish it was more.

Maia Chance is a writer to whom I will be eagerly look forwards to.

Leave a comment with your current favorite read.

Renaissance Festival - Pirates Weekend Part Two!

....

Once officially shod in my new rope shoes, I went through the rest of the day in ease. It hardly felt as though I were wearing any at all. BONUS: To clean, stick in the wash with your jeans and towels, AIR dry.

Throughout the day I purchased a new dagger (with the medical caduceus on the sheath!). There were a few other little things I picked up through the course of the day; a pendent necklace, rose hair picks.

The main events were, as always, on par. The entertainers, performers, and singers ensured those in the audience were sent away with a smile on their face.

While exploring the Pirate's Ship for additional weaponry to add to my safe guard, I ran into a best friend of mine. We joined forces to explore the remainder of the faire together!

Through a few distractions, we finished our circuit of the grounds. Going back through I picked up the various shiny-ies that I'd previously had my eye on.

There was a exploration into buying a tail . . . until we ran into another friend. While chatting the remainder of our party showed up. Introductions were made, smiles passed around, and a rather lengthy conversation of The Phantom of the Opera ensued. After which, we bid our farewells and the first friend and I headed towards the tails shop.

There was none there which would suit me, though it was fun exploring the "Dead Animal Shop". (Seriously, this was how I was introduced to the shop. It freaked me out a little, but the slogan, "Come pet dead animals" was rather intense.)

While I decided ultimately against getting one, my friend was okay with it.

Instead of staying until the end, we exited midway through the afternoon. None too soon too!

We reached our humble little home and then -

WHAM!!

Pouring rain.

Well,this ends the amazing Renaissance Festival 2017!

Tune in next week for Momocon Recap! (Which I did last week......though I might do a bit more and add a few pictures . . . or not.)