A Life In A Day

12 Oct

I won’t ask you to close your eyes and picture the scene as you need your eyes open to read this blog, but I will try my best to paint a picture for you of a day in the life of a humble author, or rather my life in a day.
So, here we are, and it is a surprisingly bright and cheery looking day in East London. I have staggered downstairs at silly O’Clock , overflowing laundry basket in my arms as usual. My little terrier, Dodger will be happily pilfering from said basket as I blearily try to load the long suffering washing machine.
Alf, the strong silent Labrador will more often than not already have stealthily helped himself to several socks and undergarments and sneaked them into the living room whilst I try in vein to wrestle a sock from Dodgers mouth. I am used to going on a sock harvesting mission before switching on the washing machine. My usual haul of retrieved items spread around the carpet consists of half the laundry basket, and my poor rug resembles an explosion in a knicker factory.
Once safely retrieved, I put the first wash of the day on. Teenage sons I have noticed, make a lot of laundry. Then I make some breakfast and attempt a conversation with teenage son before he leaves for sixth form college. I am making the most of these brief conversations, as this time next year he will have flown the nest to go off to university.
I am not looking forward to having an empty nest, but I’m sure my writing will help to fill the huge void his leaving home will leave me with.
It will non the less be difficult to prepare for a new phase in my life. Being a mum has been my main occupation for thirty years, as I have two sons. Not sure I am ready to relinquish the role, but I am trying to convince myself that bringing up your children to be independent confident adults,
ready and eager to fly off for their own adventures in life is a parental job well done.
Anyway, I digress.After the breakfast and the “bye son, have a good day” scenario, it’s down to the important bit of the day. Shower and dog walking. Yes, this is vital for my manuscript. I do an awful lot of thinking and plot writing whilst throwing a soggy tennis ball whilst I trudge my way through the damp grass.
Usually by the time we return and I have sat down with my lap top and a well earned cup of tea, I have walked my way to a new chapter.
After wasting a bit (or a lot) of time on facebook, it’s finally time to get down to the nitty gritty.
I admit my organisational skills are not exactly regimental. In fact, I freely admit they may appear downright haphazard. I do not do spread sheets to record my word count , or have much of a system. My only props are a note book and pen. I write notes about my characters, bits of relevant information and research ideas in it. It’s not very high tech, but it works for me.
There is just time to pick the dog hairs off my key board, and I’m good to go. Maybe I’ll just have one more cuppa first, though, and..is that an odd sock I can see? now, who, I wonder, left that there?


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