But even the older WordStar makes an electronic equivalent of a carbon

copy, a backup file—meaning that you’re probably still in business if a

glitch destroys the original. Uncle Seymour makes you think twice,

literally, before you erase whole files.

The old saw of the computer trade, however, will always apply, no matter

what the program:

“Garbage in, garbage out”—“GIGO.”

Berenice Hoffman, my literary agent, really rubbed that in. I’m the type

whose letters and checks take a little time to adjust to a new year.

“For your records, if you keep carbons,” Berenice replied to one note,

“you might want to change the date to 1983—didn’t the computer tell

you?” The best programs in the world can’t detect such mistakes.

But wait; I just remembered. The fancier computers have electronic

clocks that potentially could warn you if the wrong date appeared when

you were working with a correspondence format.

AFTER-THE-GOOF FEEDBACK

WordStar also provides another service—offering error messages telling

you what _went_ wrong. It isn’t perfect. Sometimes you may see

combinations of letters and numbers, meaningless to someone without a

manual. But normally WordStar is helpful. Say you want to use two

markers—one at the start and one at the end—to designate material to be

moved to another part of the document. WordStar will tell you if you

forget to type out either one.

Ideally, programs not only will offer you a diagnosis after the goof but

also a solution. Although WordStar isn’t as advanced as some programs in

this respect, it’s very adequate for the experienced user.

ABILITY TO CUSTOMIZE

I adapted my WordStar to the requirements of a writer. Editors normally

don’t like hyphenated copy, so now WordStar’s “hyphen help,” which

suggests possible hyphen breaks, is an optional feature instead of a

normal one. No longer need I turn it off with special commands. WordStar

provides a menu in the installation program that makes it easy for you

to change normal =defaults=—the settings that your software will have

before you tinker with it. The menu doesn’t cover every possibility. But

you can vary margins and many other important details, and once you’re

experienced, you can do a =patch=—a modification in the program—to

change other things.

If you’re a novice buying from a full-service computer store, ask it to

set up your WordStar. Better still, try to dope it out yourself so you

make your own changes in the future. You might get guidance from a

users’ group.

Likewise, you might tinker with a communications program to make it work

better with the computers you plan to use and talk to. Or you might set

up a record-keeping program to check automatically the accuracy of

information fed into it.

ACCESSORY PROGRAMS

WordStar will work with a variety of accessory programs intended

especially for it—everything ranging from electronic thesauruses to

spelling checkers, word counters, footnoters, and a communications

program.

Some word processors, accounting packages, other software, include all

the functions you’d need. Others require you to buy the accessory

programs. That’s not always bad. Why bother to pay for a dictionary if

you’re a perfect speller? Just make sure—before you buy—that the

original software either includes good accessory programs or will work

with them.

Some outside companies’ accessory programs, by the way, may be superior

to those from the main software’s manufacturer.

SUPPORT FROM THE MANUFACTURER

There is one plus that I wish I could have included in my praise of

WordStar—good support from the manufacturer. Don’t count on it. In the

area of guidance and troubleshooting from the manufacturer, WordStar on

occasion hasn’t even been adequate.

Calling as a prospective customer, I couldn’t find out if WordStar in a

Xerox 820 format would run smoothly on my Kaypro. The company took down

my message, then mailed me literature that didn’t answer my question.

A California man phoned MicroPro with a problem involving DataStar, a

sister program of WordStar that eases record keeping. “We do not have

time to correct the programming that results in this quirk,” he heard.

He complained to _InfoWorld_ that MicroPro “has some really elegant

program tools but no inkling as to the meaning of customer support.”

Likewise, the head of a MicroPro users group in New York told the

magazine that “fully half of the people who called me to join

immediately presented me with a problem they were having.”

For a while—I don’t know what it’ll be like when you’re reading this

book—MicroPro wasn’t even replying to most customers’ questions on the

phone; this supposedly was the dealers’ job. And while Rubinstein’s

company indeed sells a Mercedes of a program, some computer stores

aren’t up to fixing the windshield wipers.

Ideally, software manufacturers like MicroPro will not only offer

technical support but also 800 numbers so you won’t be on hold for

twenty minutes, racking up a formidable long-distance bill.

BACKUP IV ❑ On the Evolution of Software (And a “Perfecter and

Perfecter” Program)

Mary Matthews, a gifted writer-editor in Chevy Chase, Maryland, favors a

WordStar rival called Perfect Writer.

“What a conceited program,” I say.

“WordStar’s a dinosaur,” she shoots back.

In late 1984 we both tried new versions of our pet software (actually

WordStar 2000 is more of a successor), and while defending them, we

harbor reservations.

First the basics. I myself prefer a program like WordStar Version 3.3,

which is in the “get-what-you-see” tradition and shows your copy on

screen almost exactly as it will be printed. But Mary makes a good

argument for a rival with a different philosophy. WordStar 2000 in fact

helps her case. It now has many of the features that her dear Perfect

Writer came out with first, including split screens. Interestingly,

however, the new Perfect is more useful to the “get-what-you-see” crowd

than is the older version, while WordStar 2000 is _less_ get what you

see in an important way than 3.3 is. At least that’s true of the

WordStar 2000 previewed to dealers. During a demo, anyhow, a MicroPro

employee couldn’t coax 2000 into displaying double-spacing conveniently

on screen even though we could have double-spaced on paper.

Where does the increasing resemblance between Perfect Writer and the

WordStar family fit in the cosmic scheme? I’ll recklessly generalize:

The word processors of the world are becoming like refrigerators; all

the deluxe models will have the equivalents of automatic defrosters and

ice makers and butter warmers and lettuce crispers. More of the new

wrinkles will be marginal. And the surviving companies will be the ones

that can explain and exploit the differences and support their customers

the best.

Not everyone likes butter warmers. As noted before, WordStar 2000 isn’t

an unalloyed improvement for me, and the “perfecter” Perfect in some

ways disappoints Mary.

The older WordStar lets you move to the left of a line with the

combination of the Control key and the letters Q and S or =Control-QS=.

A touch typist could do this almost instantly. WordStar 2000, on the

other hand, uses =Control-CL=. =CL= stands for “cursor left,” =CR= for

“cursor right,” and mnemonic commands like those are indeed easier to

keep in your head, especially if you use a program only occasionally. On

the other hand, the new strokes are harder for a touch typist—this one,

anyway. Likewise, Mary wishes that Perfect Writer’s new commands were a

bit more logical, especially to old Perfect Writer hands.

Concluding, Mary says Perfect Writer users with 64K machines shouldn’t

junk them to buy more powerful computers just to run the new version. My

thinking is basically the same about WordStar 2000 versus WordStar 3.3.

The older program isn’t as good as 2000 in some cases; for instance,

when you could use built-in memo format to make temporary employees more

productive. But 3.3 is still terrific for people _without such needs_,

and I’ll think long and hard before I myself change.

Mary’s impressions and mine are typical of many veteran users of

software who can’t stomach features added for novices. She’s 100 percent

right except when we disagree. As “host,” I won’t rebut her in the

places below where we do.

Here’s what she sent over the phone via her Kaypro II:

Somehow, I’m not sure how, I’ve gotten to be enough of an authority on

Perfect Writer—the “old” Perfect Writer, that is, the one released in

June 1983—that strangers call me up and say that a computer salesman

somewhere told them I was the Sibyl who could answer their questions

with a local instead of a long-distance phone call. Luckily, the

questions usually run in the “How the heck do you do X?” vein, or I

might have to reveal that I’m only a good-hearted writer.

Now the Perfect Writer people have released a brand-new version of

their already powerful program, and I think I’m in trouble. The new,

revised version of Perfect incorporates some radical changes—sweeping

enough to demand 128K of RAM (and IBM PC DOS) to operate. (Actually,

after claiming that the new Perfect can edit documents of up to 100

pages, the manual states that “with 64K of RAM you will be able to

edit documents about 5 pages long,” so I assume that the new Perfect

takes up about 56K of RAM—not being familiar with the PC’s way of

juggling numbers, I can’t tell exactly.) I’m in trouble because I

won’t be the reigning Sibyl anymore unless I can figure out how to buy

a PC-compatible computer with a decent keyboard (most PC keyboards are

horrid) and still do things like pay bills and buy the occasional loaf

of bread and jug of wine.

The most radical of the changes is that the new Perfect Writer now

uses what it calls “pop-up command menus” during editing. When you hit

the Escape key, a small (about one-twelfth of the screen) “top menu”

will superimpose itself over your text, as close to your cursor as

possible, three characters away to the left or right. It lists your

choices for subsidiary menus, which eventually lead you to the command

you want.

Nearly every command has been changed, so that those of us who are

used to the old Perfect Writer must learn the editing commands all

over again. The new manual (haters of the old one will be glad to

learn that the index is now at the back where it belongs and those

frustrating Roman numerals are gone) explains with a straight face

that the pop-up menus exist so that you “don’t have to memorize

command sequences.” Of course, if you plan to use Perfect Writer more

than once a year or so, you’re going to memorize the commands, anyway;

and so, as the manual airily says, the Control key does everything the

Escape key does, identically; the only difference is that you “bypass”

the top menu—because, it says, you aren’t always going to want to see

it. Mind you, if you use the Control key, you’ll see every menu but

the top menu, anyway.

Is this enough reason to change all the commands but one—to bypass

_one_ menu?

To me, this is not an improvement over the old Perfect Writer—not

unless you actually _like_ added keystrokes. All the old two- and

three-keystroke commands are now three-keystroke commands at least,

and often four or five. This is progress? The new Perfect Writer has

indeed taken pity on us and assigned to the PC’s function keys twenty

frequently used commands, so that if, for example, you don’t feel like

keystroking =Escape-DS-Carriage-Return= to save your document and

continue working on it (=Control-X-Control-S= in the old PW), you can

keystroke =SHIFT-Function Key 9-Carriage Return=. Whoopee.

Let us not carp too much about what strikes me as suspiciously similar

to kludge, since the new Perfect Writer is as fast or faster than the

old Perfect Writer. We’re probably only talking about a few

microseconds, mind you, but it still seems to me that the execution of

Perfect’s new commands is usually close to instantaneous. This is a

thing to marvel at when you compare Perfect Writer to WordStar 3.3,

where unless you have a specially speeded-up version with specially

reassigned command keys and fingers with a lightning-fast touch, it

takes forever to execute certain commands (well, ten or twenty

seconds) and perceptible time (say, one or two seconds) even if you do

have the speed. But I still say the 50, 100, or 200 percent additional

keystrokes are a pain in the you know where. The program may be

faster, but the human being is now 50, 100, or 200 percent slower.

One improvement in particular is one to run through the streets

singing about: Perfect Formatter has been incorporated into Perfect

Printer in the main menu (inexplicably renamed “PSI”), and the two of

them together are approximately a million times faster than they used

to be. Thank you, Perfect Writer!

For a couple of years now, I have been using Perfect for the long,

complicated projects, like books, that demand powerful editing

capabilities and Perfect’s special strengths—such as split-screen

editing, automatic footnoting, automatic construction of a table of

contents, etc. For shorter things, like personal letters, I’ve been

using WordStar, for its what-you-see-is-what-you-get screen. The main

failing of the old Perfect was whether or not you were using the

document design capabilities, you had very little idea of what the

final product was going to look like. (The main failing of WordStar,

which as far as I’m concerned has been a dinosaur for several years

now, is that it can’t do half of what Perfect can—and it does it

slowly, too.)

Shout “hallelujah,” brothers and sisters! The new MS-DOS PW allows you

to choose between using its old “@@ commands” and having

what-you-see-is-what-you-get. Or you can mix the two of them (not that

I know why anyone would want to, since with the PC I’m using, you

can’t tell when a word’s been underlined).

You can now get on-screen justification if you want it; and if you

want to underline a sentence, you don’t have to worry about your

on-screen justification being thrown off 4 or 5 characters—you just

position the cursor in front of the material you want to underline, go

to the end of it, and tell the machine to underline it. The exact

command sequence for underlining a sentence is =Escape-T-B= (begin

marking), =Escape-F-S= (go to the end of the sentence), =Escape-A-M-U=

(underline the marked area). This looks like a lot of work, especially

compared with the old PW’s @@ux{}, until you stop and consider what

the same thing would be in WordStar. Suppose it’s a ten-word sentence

you want to underline: you’d go to the start of the sentence and

keystroke something like this: =Control-P-S=, =Control-F=,

=Control-F=, =Control-F=, =Control-F=, =Control-F=, =Control-F=,

=Backspace=, =Backspace=, =Control-P-S=.

I’ll break discipline and object to Mary’s description of the WordStar

underlining procedure. You could underline a sentence just by starting

with one =Control-P-S= and ending it with another. What’s the big

deal, Mary? Your described procedure would apply only to material that

you underlined _after_ you wrote it. All those =Control-F=s do is make

the cursor jump a word ahead. _Grrr!_ Then again, maybe I’m simply a

more decisive underliner. I _know_ what I want! If nothing else, this

little disagreement shows how work habits influence choices in word

processors.

Not only does the new Perfect Writer have the old Perfect’s

strengths—split-screen editing of up to seven documents at a time, a

zillion powerful editing commands, still another zillion powerful

document structuring options—but it’s added a few more just for fun.

For example:

◾ The old Perfect allowed you to delete from wherever the cursor is to

the end of whatever sentence you’re in; the new one lets you do

that, of course, and also lets you cut to the end of whatever

paragraph you’re in—or an entire paragraph, if you’re at its

beginning.

◾ Now you can delete not only the next word ahead of your cursor but

also the word behind it—a small thing but amazingly handy.

◾ You don’t have to delete text before you copy it. (However, the

process is more complicated than it used to be.)

◾ You can flush right material on screen—useful for the

what-you-see-is-what-you-get feature.

◾ You can more or less paginate on screen—although this instruction is

only good for the what-you-see-etc. editing; it’s useless for the

document-design mode (@@ commands).

◾ You can use the “Search” function to search not only the document

you’re working in now but any and all other document files on your

diskette. This strikes me as amazingly handy for editing multiple

documents when you can’t remember what the name of the other

document is or where the reference is you’re thinking of. For

example, suppose you’re writing to Joyce Davenport and you want to

add a paragraph from a letter you wrote to James T. Kirk but you

can’t remember more than that it was about artichokes. You would

invoke “search document”; the prompter then asks you what you’re

searching for, and you say, “Artichokes.” Pretty soon you have a

list of the documents the word “artichokes” appears in, and you can

then call up the one you want for multiple-document editing.

◾ Similar to this is something new the main menu offers: you can

compare two files, and Perfect Writer will show you their

differences—useful for comparing edited and unedited versions of a

report.

◾ If you have a color monitor, you can “paint” the letters and

backgrounds of the up-to-seven files you’re working on different

colors (eight background and sixteen letter colors), so as to tell

them apart. For me, this falls into the “who cares?” category, but

some may like it; and I have to admit, you can get some very pretty

(though not always easy on the eye) combinations.

◾ Perfect Writer now has the printing option “End at page X.” Shout

hallelujah, brothers and sisters!—the new Perfect at long last has

caught up with the dinosaurs like WordStar.

◾ Some of our old favorite document-design commands have been renamed,

usually for the better. And we have one absolutely dandy new

command: =@@need=. =@@need= makes sure that there’s enough room left

on the page for a chart or similar material. If you’ve just written

a 15-line poem that can’t be broken between pages, immediately after

the last line of your poem, type in =@@need{15 lines}=; if there

isn’t going to be enough room on the page, your poem will

automatically be “forced” to the following page. Hot diggety!

All is not completely rosy in Perfect land. The new Perfect has lost

some of the old Perfect’s advantages. For example, the old Perfect

had an automatic feature that told you where in your document you

were—35 percent of the way through, or whatever. Moreover, the old

Perfect had a command that let you know how long the document was in

terms of both number of lines and number of characters, and where

your cursor was in all this. I’ve searched the new Perfect manual

and haven’t been able to find any equivalent new command. The

closest I’ve been able to come is a command that lets you know only

how many characters there are in the file, not where you are, or

anything else; and the command isn’t listed in the index, nor is

there any equivalent command that I can find. Great work, guys. This

is what I call a major frustration. It’s maybe bad programming, and

it’s certainly bad documentation.

The new manual is slightly better organized than the old one, but

that’s not saying a lot. I’ve rarely been able to divine the new

name for the old command in the new manual, and when I’ve found it,

it’s usually been by accident. It would have been an enormous

service if the Perfect people had put in some sort of comparison

chart for us old-Perfect old pros.

Like the old Perfect, the new Perfect is very cavalier about the

number of spaces it leaves after a period or colon; sometimes it’s

the two you typed in, and sometimes it magically gets transformed

into one. The new Perfect goes the old Perfect three better and is

randomly cavalier about the number of spaces it leaves behind a

period, colon, quotation mark, question mark, and parenthesis—not

only deleting spaces where you do want them but also inserting them

where you don’t want them. Instead of mildly annoying, this quirk is

now big-league annoying. May whoever thought it up and liked it so

much he/she expanded it spend eternity brushing gnats out of his/her

face!

You still can’t tell the Search feature to search for something X

number of times. For example, if three times you use the word

“pishtosh” and want to change it to “nuts,” you can’t tell the

search-and-replace feature to “do this three times”—as with the old

Perfect, you have to do it twice with the “Ask me” and then “Cancel”

the third time and do it by hand, or do it three times and then have

Perfect search wastefully through the rest of the document for

something you know is not there.

The new Perfect’s printing menu is better than the one the old

Perfect came with but not nearly as good as the menu that David Hite

developed in 1983 for the old Perfect Writer. The only improvements

are the “compare” feature mentioned earlier and the ability to step

outside Perfect for a while into Perfect Calc, Perfect Filer, or a

telecommunications program—nothing I’d write home about.

We’ve lost the “one word” command—a serious blow for those of us who

used it to get around Perfect Writer’s cavalier treatment of periods

and colons. This command caused the characters placed within it to

be considered one word, so that Perfect Filer wouldn’t split certain

words between lines.

Perfect Speller, which is now on the same diskette with Perfect

Writer, Perfect Formatter, and Perfect Printer, is much faster than

it used to be. Alas, it is just as stupid. Unlike better spelling

checkers, Perfect Speller works on the system of prefixes, suffixes,

and roots. In other words, if the word “check” is an acceptable

root, then “checker” and “recheck” are acceptable. So are

“checkment” and “checkation.” And like the old Perfect Speller, the

new Perfect Speller doesn’t recognize its own vocabulary—it queried

words like “blankline” and “ux,” which are Perfect Writer commands

and ought rightly to be ignored. My recommendation is to get The

WORD Plus, which can be renamed to be accessed as if it were Perfect

Speller and which is far superior.

An interesting—I don’t say terrific—addition to the Perfect family

is Perfect Thesaurus. You substitute the Perfect Thesaurus diskette

for your document diskette in drive B, position the cursor on the

word you want to look up, type =Escape-S-T=, and Perfect Thesaurus

checks its dictionary. If the word is there, you may substitute any

of the synonyms for your original word, type in your own

replacement, or say “forget it” and go on to look for another

synonym. The hype says that Perfect Thesaurus “holds nearly 50,000

words (entries plus synonyms).”

The parenthetical remark is the key one to home in on. I asked

Perfect Thesaurus to look up “transform,” and it did; one of the

synonyms it offered was “metamorphose.” When I asked it to look up

“metamorphose,” it told me, “Word not found.” (Perfect Thesaurus has

also never heard of “fanatic,” “asinine,” “pop,” “airy,” “bypass,”

“instantaneous,” or “shrug,” among about fifteen others of the

forty-five words I tried.) I’d estimate that the average number of

synonyms offered for each word is between five and ten—if we

compromise and say seven, that’s only 6,000 or so words that Perfect

Thesaurus can recognize. Moreover, Perfect Thesaurus can only look

up fifteen words before it starts yelling, “No more marks,” and

refuses to cooperate any further.

In other words, Perfect Thesaurus is a nice toy, but I question its

usefulness for serious writers. Having a copy of _The Synonym

Finder_ by your desk offers you about a million words that you can

recognize, and is about as fast to use.

The new Perfect Writer itself still has many of the annoyances of

the old Perfect Writer:

◾ The automatic swapping feature still cuts in at inopportune

moments and makes you wait before you can continue typing or

execute a command. It’s now only one second or so instead of five

seconds or so, but it’s still annoying.

◾ There is still no automatic indicator showing where you are in

your document or how long it is, a feature of every other

word-processing program known to humankind.

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