a week in the life of a writer
rain, foggy mornings, and the start of spooky season (writing draft two)
Monday
The dark mornings aren’t creeping back in, they’re sweeping back in with a bold swagger. It’s still dark when I wake up. While there’s a glorious sunrise when I get up, just after 7:00 am it disappears into gray skies that in turn melt into misty rain.
No writing group this week. I make tea and sit down at my desk, struck by how odd it feels to work on a short story at home. I’ve been using the time at writing group to focus on the pile of short stories that exist in various places in various states across my computer. My brain has gotten accustomed to working on only the novel here, the short stories there.
But I’m here now. I write a new scene for the short story. As I cradle my cold mug of tea and stare out the window, I feel productive.
I take a bit of a longer break than I should at lunch, running out to pick up a package. The sun has come out, a whole new day emerging from the gray. I try to soak up extra vitamin D to store for the rest of the week, forecasted to be rainy.
After lunch, I sit down on the couch because the sun has ironically made the office too warm, and outline an essay for Substack.
Tuesday
Another drizzling day. I plan on a walk first thing but the weather foils me so I spend the morning writing. I work out a couple of important points for draft two of the novel so the flipped plans work out. The rain peters out a couple of times, leaving gaps that suggest I could get some fresh air without getting soaked, only to come roaring back a few minutes later.
After lunch I finally give up and take my umbrella. It’s worth it. There are trees with leaves magnificent shades of red and orange lining the roads. The rain only adds to the autumnal magic.
Returning home, there’s a cardboard box waiting. The canned pumpkin I ordered on Amazon has arrived (I detest Amazon with every fiber of my soul but none of the grocery stores in Northern Ireland carry pumpkin, weird American fetish that it is). I make the first pumpkin spice syrup of the season and pull out the milk frother.
I’m also back to putting on autumn fireplace vibes videos on YouTube as the darkness of the early evening closes in. A faux fireplace crackles in the background as I read more of Emma Newman’s Before Mars for book club on Thursday.
Wednesday
Another morning walk in drizzling rain. Home to wash my hair, work while it dries. Run errands after blow drying it. Finish reading Before Mars, get to the ending which is a gut punch. The twist actually makes me cry, a rare thing for a book.
Thursday
I have to go to the shop before breakfast because I’m out of eggs. It’s a perfect October morning, mist on the hills and yellow leaves on the trees.
After eating a couple of soft boiled eggs and toast, I take care of some admin tasks. Which is really an excuse to procrastinate on the day’s real task: facing down the challenge of actually starting draft two of the Space Book.
I’ve been avoiding it because I have to figure out where to go now. Staring at my list of problems to fix in this draft, I choose to re-write the first few scenes because I’m feeling stuck.
And now I’ve got two versions of the opening scene and I don’t like either of them. The plan for the second draft is already off the rails. Such is the life of a writer.
I head in early for book club to run errands first. Recycle old makeup at Boots, pick up more curl creme, taper candles from M&S. It’s a wet night but nothing the umbrella can’t handle. Everyone at book club loved Before Mars.
Friday
There’s a storm brewing today. Not that I can tell that from the clear, pink sky when I wake up. There’s a yellow warning out for rain, an amber one for wind. But at 7:15 am, the skies are clear and the ground is dry.
That changes the second I step out the door at 9:00 am for a walk, a light rain begins to drizzle from a gray sky as soon as I leave the house. My plans are to workout, shower, get ready, eat lunch, go into town and write this newsletter at a coffee shop.
By 11:30 am, the rain is pretty bad. Or maybe not. It doesn’t look that bad from inside. I’ll just take my umbrella and it’ll be fine.
I don’t even make it to the bus stop before my jeans are soaked through. Standing at the bus stop, contemplating getting on the bus, due in a couple of minutes, I try to envision sitting down at a table in a coffee shop in jeans this wet. I head back home.
Pivoting, I make a pumpkin fog (think London fog but with pumpkin syrup) and get cozy on the couch instead. The rain is getting heavier, pounding on the windows while the wind howls around the eaves. The storm has arrived.