a week in the life of a writer

finding the good lines in a rough draft, fueled by iced tea and matcha

This week was all about the fun drinks: iced early gray tea with homemade cold foam, a refreshing “electrolyte” drink (coconut water, fresh squeezed lemon juice, elderflower tonic water), brown sugar shaken espresso in an old jam jar (perfect size for shaking and for drinking), the iced vanilla matcha with oat milk I get once a week. They keep me going, especially on weeks like this one. The weather was bland and gray, on the chilly side, any sign of summer gone. And it was a boring week, full of long days at my desk. So fun drinks were a must.

What else kept me going this week was finding nuggets of gold while shifting through my first draft. Turns out maybe it’s not complete shit after all. I’m still just reading my first draft and making notes for revisions. I moved into a new section this week and wow, it’s so much better than the first third of the book. Which means I’ve got my work cut out for me in the first third, but at least I’m having more fun reading my own writing now.

Monday

A tired Monday morning in the coffee shop with the barista asking me what I’m up to today. I’ve noticed this trend of overly friendly baristas in Belfast and while I appreciate the community build efforts, it’s always awkward. Yes, I’m working today. What do you do? Well….

I get stuck with coconut milk for my tea instead of oat milk because that’s all they’ve got. I try to muscle through and hope that it’ll be fine.

It’s not, really, but it’s semi-drinkable. I’ll live.

I’ve set aside Mondays this month for working on short stories. Today is a productive Monday morning. I finally finish a cover letter I’ve been fiddling with for too long, hung up on how to describe this short story I’m trying to pitch to the editor, send in that submission, submit to three other literary magazines, and compile a list of other places this piece might find a home. It helps that the barista pops up mid-way through, a carton of oat milk in his hand and offering a fresh pot of tea to go with it.

Tuesday

Get up, eat breakfast, sit down at desk. Start writing. I’ve fallen out of the habit of starting the day with a short walk and maybe that’s why I’m tired before 11 am.

I take a break to run errands in the afternoon. On my walk to the shop, I go down the road with a plant that’s begun spill over the top of someone’s tall fence. I have to duck under the long vines curling out of. Those vines remind me of Eat the Ones You Love or the Last of Us.

if I ever go missing, the vine did it

The plant underneath looks normal enough, but the vines coming out of it look like the sort of thing one ought to avoid touching.

I make to the store and home again.