Accessories of the Damned
My MacBook is four years old, and I bought it refurbished. When you see it, there's no doubt this laptop has been put through the wringer. It smells of coffee and cigarette smoke. There's grit between the keys. The edges are cracked. It's not pretty but it gets the job done.
I mention this not because I'm trying to wax poetic about my computer. (Although given a chance I'd do just that.) Instead, I bring it up because I often hear new writers talking about the shiny new MacBook Air or the iPad they bought in preparation for writing their first novel. They'll also talk about the office they spent hundreds of dollars redecorating so they had the right environment in which to woo their muses. Others buy every book on writing ever written. They read all of them before they've ever written a word. They also usually get so freaked out that they never try.
In short, they're feathering their nests before they've even got eggs to lay.
The truth is th