As a child I dreamed of being a writer. As a teenager, I would read Stephen King, or even Danielle Steel and imagine how glamorous their lives were. I'd picture them in their mansions, a beautiful typewriter sitting atop a beautiful desk, plugging away at their newest book. In my fantasies they both wore stylish clothes, and had soft music playing in the background.
Here's the reality check...it ain't true! None of it. Sure, they both have rather large homes now, but they started exactly like the rest of us. My day goes something like this...
Wake at 6:00am after spotty sleep, fight with kids to get ready for school, then see them off to their respective school buses. Down as much caffeine as possible while watching the morning news, then head to my office.
My office consists of my bedroom, my bed, and my laptop. To my right is my nightstand which holds my coffee mug, ash tray and cigarettes. It also holds a framed photo of a Native American woman calling to the Wolf Spirit, a candle, and a butt load of inspirational burned CD's. I have to have music when I write.
For the first thirty minutes or so I leave the television on, tuned to some mindless program like Real Housewives, or some movie I've seen a thousand times. I stare at the screen of my laptop for a while, reread some of what I've already written, then begin my brilliant writing. Then, of course, I curse the drivel I've typed, delete it all, and start again.
During this time I've yet to change out of my pajamas...why should I bother? I'm still sitting in bed, propped up with three pillows, and one on my lap to hold the laptop higher. Don't worry, I brush my teeth first thing, though my hair leaves much to be desired until about one in the afternoon.
Around 2:30pm, the first two children have arrived home, and stand in my doorway asking for snacks, to use my phone, or to go to a friend's house. Imagine trying to write a sex scene while someone repeatedly calls out, "Hey mom?".
Maybe someday I'll have a beautiful home, with a beautiful office, and a beautiful desk, but I can't picture myself sitting at a computer for hours a day, everyday. I like the convenience of the laptop...when it's warm outside, I can sit on the deck and listen to the birds while I write. If I get tired of being holed up in my room, I can venture into the kitchen or the living room to write.
Regardless of the future, writing is far less glamorous of a lifestyle than what I pictured as a child. But to tell you the truth...I can't picture myself doing anything else!