Superwoman? Not In This Lifetime!
Are you in awe of these superwomen writers who run a home, look after four children, hold down a part time job, participate in the PTA, five charity committees and find time to write a novel a year?
Well to make everyone else feel better - here's a window into my life!
7.50 am - Stagger out of bed when I hear my better half moving about
7.55am - Run bath and sink down into hot water and listen to the wind rattling the window frame outside – well this is London in winter.
8.05 am - Grab the shampoo bottle and finding it empty, hurl it in the general direction of the waste paper basket. It misses and hits the floor and rolls behind the loo.
Promptly forget it’s even there until Christmas.
8.10 am - Get out of the bath with still dirty hair, slap on some moisturiser and drag on a pair of jeans and a jumper.
8.12 am - Take them off again and don underwear! Then put the jeans and jumper back on.
8.15 am - Make coffee for husband and myself and stagger back upstairs to home office.
8.25 am – Switch on the pc. Realise I didn’t shut it down last night and have just turned it off, so have to wait for it to boot up again!
8.30 am - Husband leaves for office and meetings, at which point I promise myself I’ll only spend half an hour catching up with my e-mails.
10.00 am - Make more coffee.
10.10 am - Complete the critique I was doing last night, to find I haven’t saved the file when I shut down the computer and have to begin again.
11.00 am - Two critiques later I scan the critique groups and find two for me.
12.00 pm - Read through them and re-work wonky passages in my manuscript and send off chatty e-mails thanking my critique partners.
12.30pm - Throw a muffin in the toaster, smear cream cheese and blackcurrant jam on it – main course and dessert all in one. Make another coffee and go back upstairs.
1.00 - Read three chapters of my galley for typos, then make myself stop in case I get word blind and miss some.
1.45 pm - Answer a few phone calls, do a bit of admin – Oh, didn’t I say? I’m supposed to be working but decided to do so from home today – thank goodness for VOIP and web based databases!
2.30 pm - Go into bedroom to find my wip on memory stick and kick dirty shirts on floor to one side.
Have an attack of conscience and scoop them up, take them downstairs again and shove them in washing machine and switch it on.
2.35 pm - Turn machine off again and wait for three minutes until I can open the door, remove memory stick which got caught up in the shirts and turn machine back on.
2.45 pm - Stare at Chapter 6 of my wip for an hour and move two paragraphs round for clarity. Then move them back because they made better sense the first time.
3.45 pm - Check e-mail again and respond to my critique partners with a moan on how I’m not getting anywhere today and wonder how that can be!
4.00 pm – Back to wip – find a chapter which does nothing for the pace or storyline and make myself delete it – despite the scintillating, witty conversation and deep insights into 17th century life. – It’s gotta go!
5.00 pm - More phone calls. Look up and find I am suddenly blind – so get up and turn on the light.
6.00 pm - Husband comes upstairs and I look up, amazed, I didn’t even hear the door go.
‘Any crisis, darling? Did you get that report done for me?’
Oh God what report? “Errr.. not far off now Sweetie, wasn’t urgent was it?”
“Nah, not really, but I need it for tomorrow.”
Phew! reprieve. Start report now and….
“Has the washing machine finished this cycle?”
Yeah, about three hours ago. “It must have dear if the light’s off”
“I’ll put them in the dryer then. What would you like to eat?”
OK, so he cooks! He likes to cook, he says it’s therapy after having to think all day. And as he plans the menus, it makes sense he does the shopping too – doesn’t it?
6.30 pm - Have an hour in the pub while dinner is cooking to talk about our day (He insists we do this the alternative is he has to stare at the lid of my laptop all evening)
7.30 pm - Go home and eat dinner, load dishwasher
8.15 pm - Boot up laptop and work on my wip for, 'Just another hour, I promise.'
11.00 pm - Look up enquiringly when husband says, “You know, I think that laptop has given me tinnitus.”