Samhain Publishing Ltd Weblog

My Life as a Romance Author

The holidays are winding down and it’s time to settle back into that glorious thing called routine. I’m one of those obsessive/compulsive people always looking for a way to be more efficient and productive. Of course I have a wee problem with commitment and do well with trying those organizing tips for a few days, a week max, then it’s back to the usual way of things. All the running around at Christmas got me thinking that although my typical day doesn’t run as smooth as I’d like, it works for me and my family.

Ready for a glimpse?

I wake up each morning to a nice, leisurely backrub, softening up those muscle that got a good hot soak when my husband ran my customary bubble bath while he tidied the house the evening before. The kids (2 1/2 and 5) have gotten their own breakfast with no fighting over toys and have settled in front of something educational on the television. I pull up my laptop while my husband darts to the kitchen to make me breakfast, and skim my e-mail to find I’m on all the bestseller lists, I’ve got a bunch of phenomenal new reviews, and my next book is almost finished and I didn’t stress once…

I wish.

Here’s a more realistic breakdown of my day.

I’m usually awakened by freezing bare feet when one or both my boys dive into bed with us and wiggle under the blankets. Depending on how late I was up writing depends on how high I jump out of bed when those feet work up the back of my shirt.

I try to stay away from e-mail until the house is tidied, but I’m going against the current on this one and only win the battle 50% of the time. After a quick skim of my inbox (only stopping twice to break up a fight started because one child was staring too hard at the other) I snag my notebook and see where I am with my current work in progress. This wakes up the characters in my mind and lets them think about where their story is heading. Forget my input, I’m only the transcriber as far as they’re concerned. I usually tuck a pen and notepad into my back pocket and remake the bed for the third time now that the boys have finally moved on to play in another room.

Between loads of laundry, building Lego towers, sweeping, chatting with my mother (who has the uncanny knack to call when I just start to jot some new ideas down) numerous potty training breaks and snacks, I manage to get the first scene I’m going to write tonight worked out in my head. The dialogue for my characters always comes the easiest too, so I have a few lines down on my notepad by now. Now I just need to listen to some music for a while and let it come together. Scratch that, the kids want to watch Sesame Street instead of listening to the radio.

Then comes lunch, another fight over who’s peeking out from behind their hands and/or throwing food. By this time my characters have gotten stubborn over when they should kiss, the floor is covered in alphagetti, I remember I missed scheduling an appointment for the fourth day in a row, and the dog wants out long enough to bark at a few squirrels before she’ll only want right back in again.

And its only 1 pm.

The afternoon runs a bit smoother. Thank you Pixar Films and a special thanks to Tom Hanks and Tim Allen for lending their voices to Toy Story. I’ve seen the movie so many times now I hear their voices in my sleep. But that’s okay, it gives me a break from my characters who threaten a walkout if I can’t give them more quality time.

If all goes well I only have to break up three wrestling matches gone wrong and clean up one glass of spilled juice throughout the afternoon. And if I’m really lucky I even have a few more pages filled with notes and scene details for the rest of the chapter I get to tackle tonight. My hands are itching to get some one-on-one time with my laptop. But I know if I touch it at this time of day (the hour when my kids suddenly get a second wind) then I risk losing my fingers when they slam the lid down to get my attention.

Supper houe rolls around, and aside from chasing my 2 year old from the kitchen every five minutes, I’ve got food cooking, laundry away and a hero in need of a good talking too (something about my heroine being a pain in his ass). When my husband gets home we eat and if the fates are with me, he runs the kids off their feet over the next hour and a half while I tidy up and read a chapter or two from whatever book I’m reading. I only sustain a couple minor bruises when my husband and boys decide that any more than ten minutes of alone time in a row warrants a full body tackle.

By seven things are mercifully settled. The kids are in bed, still hollering for juice and more stories, but in bed. I chit chat with my husband then make it seem like it’s his idea that he needs to go unwind somewhere, like the garage.

I’ve got the music going before he even gets his his shoes on with a promise not to ignore him completely when he comes in later. I wouldn’t dream of it.

Now I can write. Finally. And wonder of wonders…silence. Nothing. Not a word comes out. I review my notes, stare at blank screen. Read over the last chapter I wrote, stare at blank screen. Rag out my characters for not taking advantage of my working time. All I hear are crickets. I try bribing them with the best love scenes they can imagine. A few whispers, but no commitment to move forward on their part yet. Fine how about a few drinks, only non-life threatening injuries during the showdown with the villain, but there still needs to be a dead body at some point. They agree to my terms and the words come. About time.

So I write. And write. My husband finally comes in. I take a break, thinking how that backrub I’d envisioned this morning sounded fabulous right about now. My husband is all about a backrub too, but he’s got his wires crossed and thinks HE needs one. He finally drifts off and I go back to writing until I can’t keep my eyes open.

I shut the laptop down, check on the boys then crawl into bed and think about what I need to do the next morning. And just as I’m ready to fall asleep, promising myself I will remember a really great idea for tomorrow night’s writing session…my husband starts to snore.

Oh Calgon…