While I’m working today, one of my old computers is silently dumping it’s brains into the cloud. I use OneDrive (because of course I do), and I have 150 gig of online storage (because of course I do). The machine in question is a few years old, and a netbook, so there’s more than enough room to move the entire machine’s contents into virtual storage.
I have the OneDrive app on my phone, so every now and again, I bring up the app and see which part of the netbook’s brain is dumping now. Every time I check in, it’s like visiting a place and time in my old history: pictures of Las Vegas from 2011, or New Orleans in 2010; the first draft of 47 Echo; tax returns from 2009; a backup of my Blackberry Curve from 2010.
The really interesting thing I’ve found, though: so many manuscripts. Some of them have seen the light of day through the Twitter Novel Project, and some of them have never seen eyes other than mine.
You might know where this is headed.
I have a ton of manuscripts. I run an indie publishing company.
I haven’t decided on the delivery method for these books yet; some might be offered for free on Kindle and Nook, some might simply be emailed out to folks who have bought stuff from Eddington Press as a thank-you. But I plan to make at least four or five of them available this year.
And I wouldn’t have even thought of it of I didn’t live here in the future, and offloaded my memories to machines and servers.
So, be prepared, folks. Cool stuff is coming.