The Exciting Life of a Fiction Writer

It seems I only update my blog posts when something exciting happens causing me to react, like attending a writer’s conference or reading a good book. Everyday life does not foster good story. For example, here is my day so far; it’s pretty bland.

Get up at 6:30. Brush teeth, wash face and Feed the cats. Have to put Pablo in the garage while ADD senior cat Henry dawdles to finish his meal. If I don’t put the big white boy in the garage he vacuums up all the food. He’s hefty. He can use a few fewer nuggets of IAMS.

Get dressed. I am feeding Elizabeth’s cat today, and need to go spend some time with Pickles. Pablo, perhaps sensing I will be cheating on him with another cat, leaps onto my bed and distracts me with his cute cat poses that beg for me to stop dressing so I can pet him.

Pet Pickles profusely before I fill his bowl. He glances at the food dish, but seeks out my hand for a few more strokes before he takes his first bite. Read from Middlemarch (my book club book) on my kindle while the cat eats.

Stop at Giacomo's to eat and write. I have half a breakfast sandwich (you don’t want to order a whole one unless you are a stevedore or have been fasting for a week. They’re enormous.) with a side order of mixed fresh fruit and a cafe Americano.

Write. I am editing my  dreadful YA draft. Making it less dreadful.

Recognize a couple in the restaurant and try to figure out how I know them. When I get up to refill my coffee I stop and ask them  it turns out their son graduated from the High school where I teach. We chat about his success for a few minutes. His mother shares Facebook pictures of his son on her mini iPad.

I sit down and edit a few more paragraphs. A retired teacher from my school comes in carrying her granddaughter. We exchange chat about her current job and her children.

I notice the sky getting darker as ifa storm will blow in. I pack up to come home so I won’t get wet. Not that I will melt, but a wet computer is not a happy computer..

When I get home:

Go to the basement and dump the water out of the dehumidifier. It’s a daily thing, sometimes twice daily, on humid days. If I don’t, the basement starts to smell like a Florida swamp.

Plug in my iPad to charge it up and also do cloud backup. Eat a tablespoon of peanut butter and share the soiled spoon with Henry who will howl like a coyote until I give him a taste.

Watch The View where they show a video clip of a cat riding a Roomba dressed in a shark costume.

Check my snail mail. I get an advance copy of a new YA novel called brother. Cool! Summer reading. Maybe I will blog about this book.

Turn the volume down on The View so I don’t have to listen to Snookie. Seriously?

The clouds still threaten to storm, but all that rain sits up there like a boil just getting bigger. I’d like to reach up and pop it.

The volume is not low enough . Snookie claims to be somewhat of an expert on motherhood. “I went to high school,” she says. “I know what I’m doing.” Where is the mute button on this thing?

Yes. The sounds of my neighbor mowing her lawn is a relief.Happy Writing.