5:30: Try not to break the expensive iPhone when it makes that annoying get-your-ass-out-of-bed sound. Get up, shower, dress, eat, make lunch and get to the bus stop on time. Preferably with bus pass, phone (to listen to Amy Lane's Promise books) and two shoes. That match 7:30: sitting at my desk ready to do the grunt work from hell. Seriously. No self-respecting artist of any kind should do the numbers juggling I do al
l day. Well, unless they like numbers. Me? They break my brain.
4:30 Get. Out!!!!!! With phone, becuae the bus ride home is a chance to indulge in more Amy Lane. Yay!
5:00: Greet the family and try not to step o
n any already irritated toes. People who spend all day every day together can get on one another's nerves in an awful way, and you don't want to be the innocent they unleash on because you said the one thing that turns out to be the hair-trigger that day. Something like "Hi, honey. How was your day?" Because being
that innocent sod sucks.
5:15: escape to cool basement office (ignore that musty smell. That's the old tax returns waiting to be shredded. They aren't going anywhere. They can be done another day) Open the computer and check the email, and see if anything on the interwebs blew up while I was away. Like, hopefully, sales of my books so I can not go to work tomorrow. Nope. No such luck.
6:00-ish: Emerge from the office to eat dinner
with the family, who all seem less hazardous now that food is in front of them. Enjoy some visiting and laughing and chatting.
6:45: No more laughing and chatting. Back to the office. Write 2000 words and a blog post and chat with a few people. Be social.
9:45: count your words. 1,687. Or there abouts. Close enough. Shut 'er down and go the hell to bed. 5:30 comes damn early. Hope you're in time to say good night to at least a couple of family members.
Ever wonder about the glamorous life of a writer? Well, there it is, folks. The glamour! The excitement! The...pfffft. The hard work and the time away from the fun stuff, the excitement when you can see the end of a book and the dread that as soon as you type the those two little words, you have to type "In the Beginning" when you sit down tomorrow.
Don't ask why we do it. Just live with us for one day while we can't. I double dare you! That will be answer enough. And if you think this is a complaint about being a writer, let me assure you, it isn't. It's a complaint about having to have a day job in order to be a writer, maybe, but not about being a writer.
I cannot type fast enough or well enough to keep up with the thoughts and images in my head. I struggle to stay present in my own life while my brain vacations in my stories. I'm a freak and an eccentric and I love what I do. I just wish there was more time in the day to do it.