Craig Taylor: my desktop

The Canadian author on why he doesn't really like his laptop, and why pictures of his beekeeping father make him smile
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Craig Taylor desktop
Craig Taylor: 'That's a photo of someone's wall … I've come to love its blandness'


The thing is, I don't really like my laptop. I don't like what my laptop has done to my concentration. I'm not a very focused person at the best of times. It's always whispering: "Wouldn't you rather be watching movie trailers?" My laptop is an email machine, a transcription machine, an entertainment system and a Skype telephone. It's not exactly a place where creativity blooms.

I use notebooks every day. I always have one on me. I write longhand. Using notebooks is not an atavistic gesture; it's just what works for me, line after line, page after page. There's no Skype in the notebook. It's a quieter space to inhabit. I bring what I've written back to the laptop, but I don't really trust it with my time.

Writing longhand drafts is helpful because it's a physical process. I write in a notebook, transcribe the words on to the computer, print up the pages, write all over the pages, transcribe the changes, print more pages, repeat, repeat, repeat.

I've got around 120 of the same notebooks and they contain material that stretches back for about 10 years. I never have to worry about not being able to access old writing because it's just there, very lo-fi, in my handwriting. I do update Word files. What should I be using instead of Word? Give me some advice. I have no good explanation for having two versions of that programme. I'm terrible at archiving old emails. I wish there was a truly reliable way of saving and archiving email. I know I'll probably get to a point, decades from now, when I would give anything to sit down with a stack of letters instead of an Outlook Express archive file. (I know, I know. Suggestions welcome.)

My system is Dropbox. My desktop is a sandbox where I can spread everything out, and sift through it. From there, the important stuff goes into Dropbox and on a backup drive. Those folders are managed in a disciplined way. I like seeing the week's work spread out in front of me. I like that anything moved from the desktop goes directly into a filing system. It's a conscious decision. The other (kind of) interesting thing is that my notebooks are really disciplined too. The desktop is clean by the end of each week. If I don't manage to get everything done, I stick the remainder in a folder called "Desktops".

My Dropbox folder is synced with every device I use. That's because I'm trying desperately to spend more time away from this laptop. I don't believe I'm the only person out there who feels their laptop is like an unwanted relative, tagging along on every trip. Besides, I think my spine was beginning to bend from carrying around an elderly Apple all day. Dropbox helps.

That's a photo of someone's wall. I can't, for the life of me, remember where I got it. I've come to really love its blandness. It's calming. Putting photos of people on my desktop or looking at a treasured landscape is a little like saying the same word over and over again. The repetition gradually produces a kind of meaninglessness, if that makes sense. I love looking at all my old photos but I like the way the images still have power over me, they still affect me. Besides, other photos look great on top of this bland wall. It really brings out the colours.

The "Beekeeping Dad" folder contains photos of my father in his beekeeping get-up. That man looks very happy holding a honeycomb. Any time I want to see my father, smiling, surrounded by bees, it's only a click away. (A son can never step into his father's beekeeping suit. That's just how life is out here in the colonies.)

I have a map of all the oil pipelines in Alberta ("oil_pipes_maps[1]"). I'm starting to write more about Canada, specifically the west coast, specifically the area where a pipeline has been proposed to run bitumen from the tar sands out to the coastline, where tankers will rumble through the quiet waters of the Great Bear Rainforest.

I love collecting maps and images that counter the crumbling image of Canada as a bastion of ecological responsibility. If you go to the Canada Day celebration in Trafalgar Square, you'll see images of untouched forest and wheatfields. The event is sponsored by Nexen, a massive oil company. Canada's in an interesting position internationally. The friendly image is starting to crumble. I've been collecting photos and maps of what I guess you might call the new Canada – scans of Edward Burtynsky's photos of the tar sands, spiderweb maps of pipelines across the prairies. The "Great Bear" folder contains stuff like this. It just feels like it's increasingly important to be aware of what's happening out here, even if I'm living in London.

The zip file, "JMinfatuationsFinal", is the new Javier Marias. The perks of working for Hamish Hamilton. It's an absolutely masterful novel. I went on a Marias binge last year. He's got to get a call from the Nobel people sometime soon; he's one of the best around. 

I feel like Liz Lemon most days. The "what the what" folder is for stuff that's just too baffling to deal with. The green and black app at the far left of the dock is Dragon Dictate. It allows you to dictate straight into your computer. I've never used it.

I must admit I've taken a few photos of my book Londoners in bookshops. It's always thrilling. The file "londonersstack" is a picture of a stack of copies of the hardcover.

There are lots of references to 5D, which stands for Five Dials, the name of the literary magazine I edit. I love how magazines are evolving. I keep a lot of files and stories on my computer, obviously, but increasingly the magazine runs on Dropbox. The stuff is scattered around the world. Our designer is in rural France, our short-fiction editor is often in Ireland; the rest of the staff are in London. The first magazine I worked at in the late 90s had an office with a waiting room and a front desk and some costly rented office space. Magazines are changing. I like that ours is lean, flexible, nimble, close to the ground. It can pop up anywhere. 

Books have such a hi-tech singular focus, and more and more I'm appreciative of their perfect engineering. People can deep read on the internet. People can deep read any time they choose to. I just prefer books because they come 100% free of nagging voices. You don't have to pay to block pop-up ads. There's no email. I even find the battery indicator on my iPad to be a distraction while reading.

If you see a photo of a person with a first generation iPod, it looks like a ridiculous machine. If you see a person from years ago reading a book, I love that you don't think: man, look at that early model. I mean, you might think that about illuminated manuscripts, but still …

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