It's 12 days until my first online course for writers, "The Project Bible," starts. So, I decide to test that feature on my Web site, the one where I can send an e-mail to those who signed onto the site. I found the "form," wrote my e-mail, moved the cursor to the "send" button, and paused, finger on hold as, flashing before my eyes were all the times I hit the button and glitches sprang up. The warning menues. The bleeps-- and -- anxiety squeezed my throat with a death grip. How can a person like me allow me, who began computing with a Commodore 64, be cowed by a modern computer? Easy. Fear of the unknown. Does it every time. Okay, add to that the fact that my computer guru, who has the answer to just about everything when it comes to websites, is on vacation until mid-April. If something does go haywire, I've got no help to fix it.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I took a deep breath and with a trembling index finger hit the send button.
Nothing happened. No warnings. No bleeps. Then the words scrolled into view: "Email sent."
Whew! I can breathe again.