1) You tell your friend where the most up-to-date version of your manuscript is saved online. In case you get hit by a bus.
2) You take your memory stick with you everywhere you go, which carries the most up-to-date version of your manuscript. In case the news picks up on your story and some nosy arts reporter bribes the evidence locker cop to snoop through your purse.
3) You inform your boyfriend that while your friend knows the location of your up-to-date manuscript, it is he who will be responsible for getting the thing to a publisher. In case you go into a coma and, well...
While I hate Stieg Larrson's books with a passion (and yes, I only read the first but I hate the rest by association) his personal tragedy and eventual success has got me thinking. I mean, I know it's a stretch, and I have no delusions of grandeur, if you haven't caught on to that by now. But what if the infamous Vomit Comet were to strike me down on Yonge Street and my book, my precious, never saw the light of day?
Believe me, it's in everyone's best interest that this does not happen. Because I know myself and I know that if I "go" and some publisher somewhere has not read my latest revision, I will totally come back to earth and haunt the $#!t of this place.