Hello, my name is Nancy and I’m a (recovering) Technophobe.

Isn’t that ridiculous? Yes. Because it’s so absurd, I knew I had to change.

I used to shake my head over my grandma’s disinclination to embrace technology. I’d say, “Oh, come on, Grandma, it’s not that hard to use an answering machine (or computer; or e-mail; or DVR;). Just try. Please?” She was missing out on *so* much, by shying away. Being a good sport, she’d try…reluctantly… halfheartedly… quietly backing away when it made her head hurt.

Perhaps I should’ve seen my own phobia coming on. Before I quit my day job to write full-time, I was the one in the office voted “Most Likely to Wreck the Copy Machine.” When that would happen, I’d sheepishly get the office manager, who gave me the stink eye as she opened a series of doors and stuck her hands into the bowels of the machine to extract the crumpled paper. She’d sigh, as if I’d done it on purpose.

If that was the precursor, I don’t know exactly when Technophobia fully set in…

Maybe it was when I got a new computer with the Vista operating system. I’ll admit I’d become set in my ways, comfortable with XP and its easy-to-figure-out functions. Vista was not only different, this beast refused to be conquered. Before Vista, I’d been able to figure out XP by fiddling around with it. No need for instruction manuals. My new computer didn’t come with a Vista handbook, and I refused to buy something as banal as “Vista for Dummies.” So my Vista relationship became a standoff. I figured out as much as I needed to get my writing done. The rest be dammed (or done by my daughter, who seems to be hardwired for technology… and adamant to not let me turn tail and run from it).

My symptoms only got worse after this recoiling. Soon thereafter, I suffered a paralyzing fear of my new cell phone. I’d had a couple of mobiles before. They were simple. But suddenly, with this new one, I couldn’t even figure out how to turn the darn thing on, or worse yet, how to turn it off. I pressed every button – and combination of buttons — to no avail. Once again, my daughter came to my rescue and served as a human tutorial.

Next came an aversion to texting. Oh, man, I didn’t want to do it. What, with just learning how to make a call on my new cell? What was the point? I could place ten calls in the time it took to punch out a clumsy text. Plus, it went against every grain in my writer’s soul to use texting shorthand such as, C U 2nite or Yr gr8. To discount beautiful words?? To reduce them… all in the name of technology? What was the world coming to? But more alarming, what was wrong with me? The world was passing me by.

The next symptom came in the form of Facebook avoidance… Other authors nudged me… “It’s a great promotional tool.” My daughter and her friends taunted me, “Oh, come on! It’s not that hard. Just try. Please?” Whoa! What? That was a slap of reality. Had I become my grandma? In some areas, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. She was a lovely woman – smart, funny, accomplished… and afraid of technology. I could hear myself egging on Grandma and see more and more of her in me with every electronic challenge I avoided. Was my spirit really *that* old? When had it happened and, most importantly, how could I make it stop? The only way I could do that was to close my eyes and take the leap into the world of status updates, walls, pokes, flair and quizzes. I landed firmly in Facebook, and it wasn’t that bad. Especially after my good friend Debbie (a.k.a. The Queen of Facebook) showed me just how fun and useful it could be. I rose to the challenge chatting with friends, posting photos, taking quizzes to discover my personality type: “Healer;” my geek level: 4 on a scale of 1-10 – which earned me the title of “Day Dreamer Geek;” my Crayon color: Violet; My inner writer: Jack Kerouac (didn’t realize he wrote romance ); my Celtic name: Branwen (If they say so…); my past life persona: Picasso; and my inner Greek Goddess: Aphrodite. It’s fun and a huge time bandit, but it’s also allowed me to reach out to a lot of readers, stay intouch/reconnect with friends like Trina, who was my best friend in fourth grade. We probably would’ve never reconnected had I surrendered to Technophobia.

That realization was the first step toward my recovery. There have been other strides: I’ve become a pretty adept texter (is that a word??). And I’ve even been known to send messages such as, “I luv U 2.” Most recently, I’ve endeavored to Twitter. I set up my own Twitter account (because it’s that easy). But wouldn’t you know it, just when I thought I had it all figured out and was loving the ease of the 140-character status updates, and the fact that there are no quizzes to tempt me to waste half the day, a friend pops up and starts talking about “Twibes” and “Twaikus.” Say what?? My gut reaction was, “Run! Save yourself!”

For God’s sake, will it never end?

No, it won’t. The world will keep getting faster and more technical. I figure I can either get in the race or fall behind.

Now that my grandma is gone, I can imagine her smiling down at me and saying, “Oh, come on, Nancy. It’s not that hard. Just try.” So, I will.

How about you? How do you cope with technology? Do you grasp it or run from it? Where do you turn when you need help?

By the way, I’d love for you to “friend me” on Facebook – I’m listed as Nancy Robards Thompson. I’ll follow you on Twitter if you follow me! You can find me at http://twitter.com/NRTWrites.