I’m Ava Blackstone, and this is a day in my life.
Okay. What actually happens is that my husband gets up when the sun comes up—why did I marry a morning person?—which wakes me up because I’m the world’s lightest sleeper. I try to go back to sleep. This doesn’t work.
I drag myself out of bed an hour later, annoyed and grumpy. Fun fact—my hair sticks out like a lion’s mane. No, there will not be pictures.
I write an entire romance novel in the six hours the kids are in school, in between snacking on bonbons.
Okay. It’s closer to a chapter. A crappy rough draft of a chapter. And there are no bonbons involved. In fact, there’s no chocolate whatsoever, because I didn’t buy any when I went grocery shopping, because I knew if it was lying around the house I’d eat it. This seemed like a great plan two days ago, when I was at the store. Now that I’m half way done with this chapter, I understand what a stupid, misguided idea it actually was. I would be so much more productive if I had a brownie.
I consider going to the store to get one, but this requires way too much effort. I congratulate myself on my
Uh oh. Now it’s time to write a scene where my characters are having feelings. I hate writing these scenes. It’s so much more fun to write the ones where they’re bitchy and sarcastic. Somehow I make it through.
After cooking a nutritious dinner, spending quality time with my kids, getting them in bed, cleaning the kitchen, and making their lunches, I quickly accomplish all my book marketing tasks for the day.
Okay. What actually happens is that I sit down at my computer, convinced this is the night I’ll cross every task off my to-do list, only to realize it’s already midnight. How does this always happen?
I think about working anyway, but realize I’m exhausted and need to get to sleep so I can wake up early tomorrow and be productive. I get into bed next to my husband. He’s already snoring, because he falls asleep in approximately thirty seconds. I have every intention of falling into a deep, restful sleep, but my characters start talking to me.
I give the voices in my head a stern lecture: It’s bed time. Shut up so I can go to sleep.
Okay, maybe it’s not all that stern. If we’re being totally honest, maybe I never lecture them at all, because I’m too busy listening to what they have to say.
The thing is, I love a good story more than sleep. Maybe that’s why the getting-up-early thing never seems to work out for me…