Does anything out there think a writer’s life is glamorous? Or easy?

Well, let me tell you about my day…

It started at 7 AM. I slept in. Usually, I’m up at around 5:30. Today, however, is Sunday, and I gave myself a little extra rest, because I knew today would be a bitch. I woke up my computer and quickly scanned my emails. Ah. The editing job I’d expected finally arrived. Yay. I scanned the rest of the subject lines and decided nothing else couldn’t wait, so I opened my manuscript.

I wrote, and wrote, and wrote—stopping for a quick breakfast then lunch, stopping to pee, stopping to get up and walk around to regain feeling in my toes. I didn’t stop writing until I’d written 4,210 words. After shipping off pages to lovely beta readers, I closed out my manuscript then darted across the road to have coffee with my dd.

Back at my desk again, I opened the rush editing job I have to finish by Tuesday. I edited 32 pages, closed the document, then picked up the stack of short stories I have to have read this week. I read five while sitting in front of the television, not really watching, but sitting there rather than at my desk was a welcome change. At 10:30 PM, I finished reading five stories and decided I’d done enough for the day.

I have to repeat this cycle tomorrow and the next day to keep on schedule. Now, who thinks a writer’s life is glamorous? As soon as I put my computer to sleep, I’m heading to bed to play a couple rounds of Charm King before I set my alarm…