I’m an early riser. Every morning by six, I am in front of my computer with the intention to write. It’s quiet in the house. Either everyone is sleeping or gone to work. Everything should be smooth sailing. I have an actual office now. Converting the spare bedroom into a shared workspace for me and my husband should make me more productive. The days of writing on the kitchen table are long gone.
The first thing I do each morning is to boot up my laptop. The second is to grab a large cup of coffee. By the time I sit down in front of my large screen monitor, the system is up and running. My desk is placed in front of the window facing out to our backyard, where the pool is winter ready, the trees are bare and the usually friendly squirrels seem to have vanished.
I stare at the screen, wondering, should I check Twitter, Facebook, e-mails before getting down to work. Compulsive by nature, I know if I start down that road, I may not type a single word. Pushing down the impulse to launch Chrome, I instead click on the Scrivener icon on my desktop.
The program brings me to the last page I wrote. I read the previous paragraphs to find my place in the story. And that’s as far as I get for a while. I stare out the window for inspiration. There is nothing out there to stimulate creativity. All I see outside, in the semi-darkness of daylight savings time, is a landscape readying for winter. If I wanted to write something morose, I would not need to look far for motivation.
The scene I need to complete is the backstory to my heroine. Yes, her life has been difficult, but this particular scene is a happy one. It’s when she first met her love interest. As I bring my eyes back to the screen, I have drawn a blank. Maybe I could check Twitter for a few minutes. After an hour, I have gone through Facebook, e-mails, checked the news, as well as Instagram.
I close Chrome, knowing I need to stop. Leaving my desk, I make my way to the kitchen for a coffee refill. Suddenly a thought strikes me. Forgetting about the coffee, I return to my desk, read the last sentence, and plop down on my chair. I type the first word, then the next. Some two thousand words later, I stop.
Tomorrow the process will commence again. For now, I feel exhilarated to have finished the scene. The need to open Chrome is gone. I look at the time, see it’s close to ten-thirty, and close up shop. In the kitchen, I fill my cup with coffee, seeing that everyone is up. The dears know to leave me alone when I’m working. Now it’s family time.