Saturday, February 26, 2011

A Day in the Life of the Author

Julia: Many people come up to me and say, "Hey! Julia! What's it like being the glamorous author of bestselling mysteries?" I usually just draw my full-length mink closer to myself and hurry past, but occasionally I like to share glimpses of my exciting life with "the little people." Forthwith: Twenty-four-hours (more or less) with The Author.

6:00 am: The Author snuggles beneath her downy featherbed while fat snowflakes fall gently from the pearly skies above her Maine farmhouse.
6:15 am: The Author's son wakes her up when he rushes into her bedroom looking for socks he should have gotten yesterday.
6:30 am: The Author attempts to go back to sleep.
6:45 am: The Author's son wakes her up a second time, needing a check and a signed permission slip.
7:00 am: The Author attempts to relax clenched jaw and go back to sleep.
7:15 am: The Author's clock radio goes off. Sadly, she is not greeted by the dulcet tones of Steve Innskeep and Renee Montagne of NPR's Morning Edition, but by the Boston-based sports talk station her husband was listening to the night before.
7:18 am: The Author staggers into bathroom, attempts to rub sleep-creases off face. Discovers they don't rub off.
7:30 am: The Author awakens her youngest child before going downstairs to start the electric kettle.
7:35 am: The Author awakens her youngest child before making The Author's husband's lunch.
7:40 am: The Author awakens her youngest child and then feeds the cats and the dog.
7:45 am: The Author's husband comes into the kitchen. "Don't you think you ought to wake the princess up?" he helpfully asks.
7:46 am: The Author drags youngest child out of bed, sets her to dressing, eating, washing, brushing, loading book bag.
8:05 am: The Author lovingly shoves husband and daughter out into the snow. Time for a cup of tea!
8:10 am: The Author quickly checks her email.
8:15 am: The Author decided she had better see what's up on Twitter and Facebook.
9:00 am: Maybe a few publishing industry blogs.
9:30 am: And Regretsy. She'll just take a peek at Regretsy.
10:00 am: The Author notices the fire in her quaint New England kitchen woodstove is dying down. She puts on boots, parka, hat and gloves and treks out to the wood room for a couple armfuls of well-seasoned oak.
10:05 am: Oh, my Lord. It smells like a mouse died in here.
10:15 am: After building up a fire, time for another cup of tea!
10:18 am: The Author opens her current work in progress. It's at a delicate point, where she must bring together several key characters in a scene that opens the action in a new direction, while subtly revealing motivations the character's themselves are unaware of.
10:23 am: More tea!
10:47 am: The Author's marketing person emails her, asking for a 2000-word piece describing the creative process and an updated bio to go in a promotional flyer. Due in two days, please.
11:00 am: The Author struggles with finding just the right language to etch the fictional landscape into the reader's mind, creating echos of the books theme in the natural world.
11:10 am: Litterbox duty.
11:25 am: The Author's friend calls. "Want to meet me at the transfer station?" The Author agrees, and begins stomping cardboard and sorting glass and cans into separate bags.
11:35 am: The Author drags recyclables into her station wagon, discovers the town plow has been by since the Boy shoveled them out. The driveway is blocked by a two-foot-high snow dike.
11:40 am: Shoveling and cursing.
11:50 am: Cursing and shoveling.
12:00 pm: The Author meets friend at the town transfer station, spends an enjoyable half-hour gossiping over stacks of old newspapers.
12:30 pm: The Author, home again, lugs in another armload of split logs. The wood room isn't smelling any better.
12:45 pm: The Author mixes leftover baked beans with leftover mac and cheese. Not bad.
1:00 pm: The Author gets back to work on a scene where two red herrings must be invisibly laid alongside a clue that will only be recognized two-thirds of the way through the book.
1:15 pm: Better take the dog out for a walk.
2:00 pm: The Author's publicist calls about upcoming book tour. Next half-hour spent hashing out difference between Manchester, Vermont and Manchester, New Hampshire.
2:30 pm: The Author realizes she has one hour of work time before kids and husband return home.
2:45 pm: More tea!
3:00 pm: The Author throws some frozen meat in the microwave. Maybe if it's already defrosted, husband will be inspired with an idea for dinner.
3:30 pm: The Author remembers now-defrosted meat. Removing it from the microwave, she spills jus on the kitchen floor.
3:35 pm: The Author's husband and daughter come through door just in time to see the author mopping up puddle of blood from the floor. "What are you doing?" the Author's daughter asks. "Research," the Author says.
3:45 pm: The Author's husband asks if she has remembered an interview due today. With a sinking heart, the author opens the interviewer's email, to find fifteen questions asking for enough detail to pass as a national security clearance questionnaire.
4:00 pm: The Author works on interview answers while listening to account of daughter's day and explaining that yes, daughter still has to empty the dishwasher even if she is scared to go back into the kitchen.
5:00 pm: Still working on interview. The Author's husband wanders in. "Have you given any thought to dinner?"
5:30 pm: The Author's husband comes back in. "Shouldn't the Boy have gotten home on the activity bus by now?" Remember school play rehearsal is running until 6:00, and all cast members need to be picked up by parents. Offer husband choice: dinner prep or drive time.
6:00 pm: The Author waits outside the darkened high school for son. Snow is beginning to fall. Again.
6:15 pm: Returning home, the Author quizzes son on homework, delivers lecture on the importance of turning in work on time.
6:30 pm: The Author resumes working on interview which should have been done the day before.
7:00 pm: Dinner. Macaroni and cheese. The Author sighs.
7:30 pm: Everyone into the family room for tonight's episode of Babylon 5, streaming from Netflix. "Do I write as well as J. Michael Straczynski?" the Author asks. The Author's husband prudently keeps mouth shut.
8:30 pm: The Author tucks in her daughter. Explains that, no, that wasn't real blood mommy was cleaning up. Just pretend blood.
8:45 pm: The Author settles into comfy chair, keeping feet well elevated away from drafts creeping along the floor of her 190-year-old house. She is ready to relax and enjoy an advance reader's copy of Rhys Bowen's Bless the Bride.
8:55 pm: The Author's dog emits horrible noxious gas, forcing the evacuation of the room.
9:30 pm: The Author drags son away from computer, lectures him on the importance of an early bedtime and healthful sleeping habits.
10:30 pm: The Author's husband appears downstairs in flannel pajamas. "It's late. Aren't you coming to bed?" The Author promises she will after one more chapter.
11:45 pm: The Author guiltily sneaks into bedroom with ARC tucked under her arm.
11:55 pm: The Author snuggles beneath her featherbed, promising herself she'll get more writing done tomorrow. "Did you hear the weather report?" her husband asks. "Looks like another snow day. We'll all be home with you!"
12:00 am: The Author stares at the darkened ceiling, listening for the sound of snow plows. A sound that will not come until it is far, far too late.

For more of the #GlamorousLifeOfAuthor, follow me on Twitter.


  1. I'd comment..but I'm laughing too hard to type...oxoxoo

  2. Julia, I feel so much better about my own "writing schedule" now. And I'm off to Google Regretsy. Never heard of it. You mean there's a source of procrastination out there that I've missed????

  3. I Love it...though you have to remember that JMS had the beginning and ending of Bab5 given to him by Harlan Ellison. He "just' had to fill in the middle. (snort)

  4. Sounds very much like my day, with the exception that my youngest is a boy and the name of my ARC is different.

  5. only have bonbons once each week?

  6. Laughing so hard I sneezed cereal out my nose! Julia, you've outed us all!!!!!!!


  7. Hysterical. And just what was your word/page count that day? And did you ever discover the bad smell in the wood room?

  8. Julia, this is hilarious and so, so familiar. I remember trying to write at home when I had kids in school, husband at work, and then someone from school would have the nerve to call me and say, "Could you make two dozen brownies for the open house tomorrow because YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE WHO DOESN'T WORK!!
    No wonder I switched to murder stories
    (and my magic word to type is STORI. Weird...

  9. I'm glad I wasn't drinking anything. Absolutly hilarious. I keep picturing you looking up from the blood, "Research." Love it. Yes, the glamour.

    In my world, I subtract the snow and children, but add the day job and the husband wandering around the house looking for items he misplaced (I have a 98% success rate of finding them for him, even if I never saw them in the first place).

  10. Love your glamorous life- haven't made it to the transfer station here in a while. I'm way behind on Loon Mountain gossip. Off to work on my WIP. After I shovel out the woodpile on the deck. And start the wood stove... Love NH!Oh, and I'm glad I put down the coffee cup before I read. Coffee through nose is no fun.

  11. I loved this and I promise to be more patient waiting for you to write your books. :)

  12. I always knew authors led glamorous lives. You have validated my suspicions. ;)

  13. I realized as I was tossing a load in and matching socks that I didn't even touch on the role of laundry in the Author's Glamorous Life.

    Now I'm going to shovel my neighbor's drive as my good deed of the week. If I'm not too tired, it'll be the transfer station afterwards! (I also neglected to mention Ross still calls it by it's pre-recycling facility name and likes to say, "You off to the dump, now?")

  14. At the risk of sounding favorite part was where the author's publicist calls. Enough said?

  15. Thanks so much for warming me up this AM. I'm in Dufur Oregon at a writers' workshop, and while the hotel is charming (19th century, high windows, claw foot tubs), it is also really cold. No snow, just cold. I am wearing layers! However, it does inspire one to warm one's fingers by writing. Now if I can just get the nerve to read my morning's harvest to the others (20 in all) in the room. Stay warm, Julia and all!

  16. I can't wait to have the life of the Glamorous Author (except I might have to plug in grandchildren instead of children since mine are currently 22 and 25)! At least I wouldn't have to drive to the day job. Thanks for sharing your day, Julia - smiles all around.


  17. Wow, way to burst the bubble! Here I thought my favorite authors lived the life! lol I guess it does help to know you're a "real" person. Maybe that's why I enjoy your writing : )

  18. OHh, I didn't get here until Sunday. So glad I did. I wondered about the laundry.

    I'd tell you it gets better when Hubby retires and the kids are grown,'s the same of old song just different words.

    Love the dump and the research part.

    Tammy, why is it that men can't find anything or remember where they put something? It boggles my mind. He could be staring right at it and can't see it.

    Thanks, Julia, for the imagine of a writer's glamorus life.

  19. Becke Martin Davis posted the link on Facebook, I "linked up" on my iPhone while sitting in a Starbucks. Laughing hysterically, I turned to those looking at me - "Stop staring at me people, get your own laughter!" ;-)

  20. Ah, Julia. So funny. So true. Thank you.

    Brenda B.