In the movies and on TV, writers are always depicted as trés fabulous…they wear satin a lot, and have a staff. A driver. I too would like satin and a driver…but I suspect I’m not the type. Note, for example, a few rather typical moments in my unglamorous career…

Desperate for the sound of a human voice not her own, Romance Writer accosts UPS driver for chat in driveway. Later, upon glimpsing self in mirror, learns that mud mask (applied in attempt to beautify for date with husband later that day) has not yet been rinsed from face.

Fearful that snippet of great dialogue will flee to the land of forgotten lines, Romance Writer keeps typing as she finishes sandwich. Can it be done? Sure. Neatly? No.

In the midst of a good run of words, RW spills cocoa on front. Does not mop up for several hours. Forgets now-hardened chocolate stain decorating bosom. Picks son up from school.

Attempting to look the part for talk to other writers, RW shaves legs. As task has not been undertaken since last public appearance, RW cuts self. Blood pools in shower. Husband concerned. Bandages applied. Suicide attempt denied.

As one accustomed to working alone, RW talks aloud frequently. Finds self channeling hero/heroine during heated argument. Realizes she’s in line at the deli counter. Apologizes to frightened counterman and places order for turkey breast. Resumes argument.

Trying to get first kiss scene just right, RW makes out with hand. But we’ve devoted an entire blog to that, so let’s move along.

In order to devote every possible moment to writing, RW consumes one ginourmous meal at 10 a.m., combining lunch and breakfast. Bigger bites make eating go faster. RW proud of time-saving methods.

When puppy steals page of manuscript just as Romance Writer is about to step into shower, naked RW gives chase through empty house. Pries soggy, torn page from puppy’s mouth. Sees that puppy needs to go out. Puts on husband’s snow boots and coat, which covers girl parts by perhaps two inches, takes puppy outside. Waves to UPS man, who is visibly shaken. Wonderful idea for new book occurs. RW takes puppy in. Sits at computer. Types. Forgets she is wearing a coat and boots and nothing else. Husband arrives home. “And what have we here?” he asks, hoping that it’s an attempt at seduction (albeit a somewhat odd, vaguely disturbing attempt…but hey, he’s not picky). “Not now,” RW replies. “I’m working.” 

Anyone else feel like sharing their less glamorous moments? Did you ever go through an entire date with spinach stuck in your tooth? Give a presentation with toilet paper stuck to your shoe? And by the way…to my UPS man…you’re the best, pal! Please don’t ask for a transfer!