Get up. Walk dogs and rework key climatic scene in head.
Feed dogs, make breakfast, clean kitchen and sit down to write. Go back to kitchen to check champagne is in fridge because I am going to finish this book, this series, this final edit today. Oh yes I am.
Open laptop, read what I wrote yesterday. Edit everything I wrote yesterday. Let Pug 1 into the garden. Sit down and write two words. Let Pug 1 in again.
Sit down and start writing. Fifteen words later, Pug 2 wants to go out. Go to fridge for bottle of water. None left so fill empty water bottles and rearrange fridge to accommodate. Let Pug 2 in.
Sit down and concentrate. Rattle out 50 words and ponder the emotional impact of ‘clench’ versus ‘clutch’ while watching a blackbird yank a worm out of the lawn.
Pug 2 has sneezing fit and I recall Sunday is Dog Maintenance Day. Fetch designated dog facecloth from the cellar and notice washing machine has finished its cycle. Hang up washing and decide on ‘clench’. Clean both pugs’ nose folds and take French Bulldog into the garden to trim her nails.
Wash hands and sit at computer. Write 140 words and flick back to insert relevant flag in earlier chapter. Start editing earlier chapter. One word reminds me of that email from that bloke about that thing and I ‘quickly’ check the inbox.
Twenty minutes later, husband suggests coffee break. Agree. Hell, I’ve earned it.
Sit down and concentrate. Dogs napping in the sun, husband busy in the studio and I can write. 220 words later, I can bear it no more. This bra is digging into me and I cannot possibly create if uncomfortable. Upstairs to change underwear and notice bed linen could do with a wash. Change bed linen and spend fifteen minutes looking for matching pillowcases.
Back at desk. Message from fellow student with question about German homework. German homework? I’ll do it later. Keine Ahnung, I reply. 350 words and the chapter is taking shape. Just need to work out the logistics of the gun and the distance and … French Bulldog scratches at the French window. She wants to sit in spring sunshine. For precisely seven minutes.
Hit 1000 words and check cupboards for refried beans as I fancy fajitas. Spend half an hour cooking, another hour eating and chatting about Paris, Texas, then twenty minutes clearing up.
After lunch and dog walk, I launch myself at the keyboard like a dervish.
Delete everything I wrote this morning and rework. While attempting to force characters into Scenario A, they slip and slide and evade me, setting up Scenario B.
It works. Excited, I tap away to a dramatic climax and then…
Pug 1 needs a pee. Shortly followed by Pug 2.
My concentration wanders. Time for a quick check-up on Social Media?
I am a writer and I must write. 1,500 words later and my edit is complete. Just one last once-over and I can officially declare this book done.
Herr Husband wanders in.
“The only thing on a sunny afternoon is a gin and tonic. What do you say?”
French Bulldog farts.