A Day in My Life - A Pictorial

My typical writing day starts around 7:30am, that is the time when I (reluctantly) grow aware of the world around me.  (And yes, no kids. Hence the late time).  Around 8:15am is when everything gets into focus as the first few hits of coffee kick in.  By then, I’m usually in front of my computer in my little hole-in-the-wall office, sorting through emails and spam, checking the Twitter feeds and sorting my day out.  Providing there are no pressing jobs (graphic art related), then I’m free to write.

I'm not really writing a "Once Upon A Time..." tale...

I open up the work in progress folder and double-click whatever story I'm currently working on.  I scroll down to the last page I'd written and stare at it.  I scroll up and read the last few paragraphs, just to get the feel of it again.  I scroll back to the end and go "Uhmmm...."

Not sure if you can see, but there's mango buds on the tree.

I look outside for inspiration...since it's March, the mango tree has blossoms and some parts have small fruit buds bearing.  I think, If it doesn't rain soon, all those buds will drop and we'd get nothing this July.  

If looking outside doesn't inspire me, I look at my cat, Dobby, and confirm once again that when he's not being a ninja, he's a lazy, indulgent, and surprisingly nimble feline. And again I think to myself: That cannot be comfortable.

Then I remember I had an ongoing game of Words with Friends and open up Facebook and see if it's my move.  It isn't, so I mosey on to the other games I play on the site.  By now, I've wasted a solid 45 minutes to an hour woolgathering...But I don't feel guilty since you can't force the writing muse.  (Some may say working from home is a major distraction, but I beg to differ.  I enjoy it.  It's called 'recreation').

Since staring out the window, or my looking at my cat, or playing computer games doesn't usually provide much inspiration (though very relaxing), and the Twitter feed on the screen (peeking out on the left) keeps attracting my eye, I scroll further back in the WIP and re-read a few chapters to get fully back into the groove of things.  I end up deleting stuff, rewriting, editing, tweaking and fattening up scenes as I go along.  By the end of reading, I'm back in the groove and writing for a couple hours.  Around 1:00pm, I fling a copy of the WIP into my DropBox folder and crack open the laptop in the bedroom, retrieve the file and continue on.

This reminds me, I need a new notebook.

Often times, I have a large note book next to me while writing.  It's crammed with notes and ideas and plot outlines (highlighted, scratched out, double-highlighted).  I try to follow what's on it, but that usually doesn't happen, but gives me an idea of what's supposedly supposed to come.  By now, my writing endeavours have exhausted themselves, and it's close to 4:00pm.  The mind is buzzing and a serious siesta is giving me that come hither look.  Before clocking out, I run through the last ideas in my head, sometimes making more notes in said book just so I'll be up to speed the next day.

That's the sun setting and that's my neighbour's roof.

Before you know it, living here in the Tropics, where the sun keeps a regular schedule and night and day are rigidly defined, dusk falls upon us and I reluctantly drag my ass to feed dogs, and prep dinner (I hate cooking, but love to eat. Can't win).

There is a saying in Barbados that once the sun sets, it's time for drinks.  Something like Five-Thirsty, or Six-Thirsty.  There's even one for pre-lunch drinks, like Eleven-Thirsty (but that's another story).  I religiously follow this custom, as the sun dips into night, my cocktail is in hand.  My drink of the day may vary, from a fruity red, to a sturdy Jack & Coke (a particular favourite), or a revitalizing single malt on the rocks.  This particular one above is growing to be a favourite of mine, vodka with freshly crushed blueberries with a dash of Sprite. Mmm! (My other favourite is martinis...don't get me started on those).

Jax waiting for his lettuce.

So, whilst enjoying my libations, I alternate my hands with cooking dinner and fending off my dog, Jax, who hopes food will accidentally fall into his mouth.  He gets some treats, like his favourite of lettuce bits (weird, I know), carrots, and broccoli (weirder).  Oh, and a little taste of whatever meat is cooking.  He's not spoiled...he's special.  There's a difference.  Really, there is!

Before you know it, full night has come, dinner is consumed, TV is ogled at, and the day is once again coming to an end.  Tomorrow, the same old same old.  Some may say I live an idyllic life...well, I do...it's the Tropics.  We move at a different pace here.  Besides, I don't do stress very well.

Cheers!