I'm glad it's a new day. Last night was a computer meltdown marathon. The Microsoft Word on the upstairs PC must have been hungry, because it kept eating my son's history paper. He'd invest an hour or two, see the dreaded words "Normal...template...revert...recovery...do you want to, yes or no?" then poof, his work was gone. This happened three times. Six hours of work swallowed into the ether. Tough for a 16-year-old to take.

While he was tearing his hair out and IM'ing his friends in anguish, I was on my laptop at the kitchen table trying to update my website, which hadn't had a retool since January. Like most of you, I rely primarily on word-of-mouth, personal appearances and the Web to tell folks about "Ribbons of Highway," and I had some new reviews, publishing credits and, of course, my BWS Featured Author status to share.

Well, my laptop assumed multiple personalities, opened window after window in rapid-fire succession, prevented me from closing any of them, and spit porn, gambling and - no surprise - virus-killer shortcut icons all over my desktop.

Adam managed to coax his paper to completion, and I was able to freshen up www.LoriHein.com . (I'd love your feedback.) After our little journey into the cyberabyss and back, I went to bed thinking about how dependent we are on our computers. I resolved to back up my electronic book marketing activity with a bit more old-fashioned pavement-pounding. More face-to-face interaction and emphasis on visits to libraries and bookstores, speaking engagements, book club readings, church, craft and book fairs.

When the computer behaves, it can take us anywhere in the world. But there's a whole world in my own backyard, too. I just have to tear myself away from the computer screen and get out there and talk to it.