In 1982, the year I published my first book, I decided I wanted a computer. At that time I did all my writing on a typewriter and kept my files in boxes in a perfectly adequate but old-fashioned way.
I didn’t know one thing about computers. I knew it would make my life easier. It could type and print my writing, letters and contracts, and help me file my research and recipes. I understood that it would do the accounting procedures for my business and calculate payrolls.
But in 1982, I really didn’t foresee that the computer would be our main method of worldwide communication, that it would pay our bills, do our banking and provide us with entire encyclopedias of knowledge.
I didn’t dream that it would help me design my magazine and books, fax my letters and memos, and e-mail answers to my readers’ inquiries.
In 1984, I went to an IBM store in New York. I found a sympathetic salesman who patiently helped me decide to purchase the basic IBM PC with 640K (kilobytes) of memory.
I splurged and bought a gray Formica PC desk table in which to house the computer and the printer. Not really understanding what my salesman was talking about, I upgraded the memory and awaited delivery of this exciting new office tool.
When it came, I unpacked it and set it up in my home office. I opened the manual–hundreds of pages of indecipherable gibberish–and turned on the computer.
After three or four months of trying to understand what the computer could do and attempting to type in commands that seemed ridiculous and illogical, I abandoned the IBM PC with its two floppy-disk drives, impossibly slow processes and even slower retrieval methods and bought the newest IBM Selectric typewriter.
After years of dreaming, I became once again a computer illiterate. I was not happy.
The IBM sat untouched until I hired my sister-in-law Rita to work for me as a bookkeeper. She had been working at General Electric, where the giant mainframe computer was the norm.
Rita was in heaven with her own PC, and studied after-hours so she could set up the computer to work for us. I continued to avoid it, convinced that I would never remember the commands necessary to run it.
Even my daughter, Alexis, could not persuade me to return to the computer to learn the basics of word processing. DOS, to me, was worse than the most difficult foreign language, and though I wanted to learn it, I just couldn’t.
Several years went by until, at the insistence of my editors, I bought an Apple computer. In six years, revolutionary changes had occurred in the design and capabilities of the home computer. My new machine was menu-driven and much more user-friendly, with comprehensible though basic programming.
I finally learned how to type an article, store it and print it. Then I learned easy editing and rewriting techniques. I was hooked. I abandoned my typewriter.
In the past five years I have installed computers in each of my home offices, and I carry a laptop when I’m traveling. I’ve found that I am much more efficient than I ever was. And I am forced to get my work done and meet deadlines on schedule because there is absolutely no way that excuses such as “I sent it yesterday” or “my Xerox broke” are valid.
Most important to me, the machine I once saw as a mere calculator has become a magnificent worldwide communications tool for business and family that is intuitive, appealing and, above all, user-friendly.
I am a convert. The more I use the computer and dream about its potential, the more tasks I can imagine it doing, the easier I see my life becoming and the more I see myself learning and doing by computer into the 21st Century.
———-
Martha Stewart welcomes letters. She cannot reply individually, but you may write to her in care of the Chicago Tribune, Home section, 435 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ill. 60611. Or send e-mail to TribHome@aol.com.
