8.00 am. Alarm goes off, and I’m already awake, trying to remember which day it is. Yes, it’s a writing day – hoorah! Mentally flick through the current novel as I stagger up and out to the bathroom. Where was I last time? Can’t remember. Did I print? If so, my mother will have read it overnight. If she doesn’t say anything, then I probably didn’t finish the chapter.
8.10 am. Downstairs for a cup of tea. No word from mother, who is reading her mail, so must be mid-chapter. Okay, aim to get to the computer by 10.00 and read over earlier stuff.
8.15am. Drinking tea, stare blearily at the morning news, barely taking it in. Glance at the pile of mail and decide it looks too junky to be tackled yet. Drink tea first.
8.30am. Need to go upstairs to bath, but there’s the wretched mail still waiting. Sigh and leaf through the pile. Aha! Recognise publisher’s location on Post Office stamp. Rip open in hopes of receiving acceptance cheque for last novel. Letter is from editor informing about new requirements regarding novels coming in on disk format.
8.35am. Go through rest of usual solicitations for loans, credit cards, help, and people trying to sell me things, most of which ends up in bin – except unwelcome bank statement. Decide to go and get bathed and dressed.
9.15am. Breakfast, watching Kilroy’s collection of intent confessionals in hopes of picking up something useful for writing purposes. The subject is baldness. Toy with idea of having bald hero, or more daringly, heroine. Decide not likely to appeal to Mills & Boon readers and discard. Time to get to work.
10.00am. Still not made it to the computer. Taken two phone-calls and checked over finances in vain attempt to discover Bank has made a mistake in my statement. Must get to work! Desperately need another cup of tea first, though.
10.15am. Finally, sit down to computer and bring up last couple of chapters. Start to read over, editing here and there as I go, sipping tea.
10.30am. Just getting into it and involved in story, when cat decides it’s a good idea to jump onto desk and climb up to my chest, hanging on with paws round neck and purring into my left ear. Not conducive to concentration but has to be put up with. Carry on reading.
11.10am. Get to end, feeling quite pleased with what is there. Look over plot and think about next scene. Can’t bring it to life in my head. Also can’t type with cat’s weight causing deadness in one arm. Shift her to lap. She decides to be miffed and jumps off, walking out of office with nose in air. Right, now I can get down to it.
11.15am. Rewrite first sentence of new scene five times, and curse loudly. Decide to read back over last scene again.
11.30am. Finally get going on new scene. Gradually become involved and lose track of time.
1.17pm. Gradually borne in on me that I’m starving, but scene is going well and don’t want to stop. Try to carry on.
1.30pm. Hunger can no longer be ignored. Pause at suitable place, and am chagrined to find that have only produced four pages despite feeling as if I’ve written ten chapters. Go down to lunch.
1.45pm. Eat substantial snack while vaguely following adventures of Jessica Fletcher in “Murder, She Wrote”. Find myself becoming involved in it, and quickly switch over to gardening programme as I can’t risk being away from computer too long or muse will dissipate. Gardening is Greek and anathema to me.
2.10pm. Back at computer, read over morning’s work and realise have completely diverged from intention in this scene. Frustratedly check plot and see what difference this will make, if any. Decide it’s far too early for hero to be so obviously smitten. Damn! Look through and see if possible to rectify with simple change. It isn’t. Drop into apathy, and go downstairs for soothing cup of tea.
2.30pm. Having read plot through to end, decide I like the new shift. Read over section again, and this time see that if I adjust a couple of sentences, it won’t be so obvious. Reader will infer it, but not be so sure. Good, let’s do that.
2.45pm. Change is made, I like it, and am feeling encouraged to continue. Go to last sentence written and pursue the story.
4.15pm. Phone rings insistently, bringing me slowly out of my absorption. I finish sentence and go to answer it. It’s a friend checking arrangements for an event this weekend. We chat for a while.
4.35pm. Realise I’ve been too long away from work to resume without reading over and decide I might as well get a cup of tea. Find something to eat as well as hunger is once again making itself felt and interfering with concentration.
4.50pm. Read over the work, and quite pleased with progress. Make some edits as I go, which adjust it for the better. Next scene already firing up in my mind, and this one not quite finished. Jot some notes on plot sheet against next scene to get them out of my head. Continue writing.
5.45pm. Have finished scene and wonder whether to start next. Last few paragraphs were hard going and I realise I am tiring. Probably best to stop for the day. Only I’m really interested in that new scene and tomorrow morning I have an appointment and won’t be able to get back to this until late afternoon. Decide to take a break, eat something and come back and try again.
6.30pm. Back on the computer, feeling refreshed, make a start on next scene. It doesn’t seem to go too well. Was all fired up, and now can’t make it happen. Count pages and find I’ve done twelve. That’s around four to five thousand words, so a pretty good output for one session. Decide to call it a day.
6.45pm. Go downstairs and tell Mother have not printed out yet as not yet satisfied that completed chapter is ready. Make some calls, and get ready for supper.
7.50pm. Writing day is over, but I’ve some unfinished business from other work to do, so back upstairs to handle it and check e-mails.
9.30pm. Had enough of the computer, so end off work and go downstairs to watch some TV before it’s time for bed.
10.30pm. Finally drag myself away from the TV set, and get ready for bed, and a crossword.
11.30pm. Made silly mistake of reading over the plot again and am now making frantic notes as I find the new direction taken this morning requires adjustments throughout the book. Am now late and will probably end up sleeping in. Oh, no, I have an appointment, so I can’t!
11.45pm. Determinedly put down plot and turn out the light, only to lie there weaving a completely new scene in my head instead of going to sleep. In middle scene becomes strangely involved and surreal, as the writer drifts off into the land of nod.
AND SO IT GOES ON…