Nora Roberts has a post up at her blog.  “A day in the life” and it’s just that… talks about one of her days.

Writing for a living is weird.  It’s nothing like what I’d expected it to be.  I just planned to write books–yes, from the time I was probably thirteen or so, I planned on being a writer.  I had a back up plan, yeah.  I’d be a nurse, then I’d somehow make it big…still trying to figure out the make it big part, but I’m lucky enough to write.

But when I was thirteen, we didn’t have email and facebook and twitter…was it easier then?  I dunno.  Even if we didn’t have that stuff, I’d still have to deal with the non-writer stuff, I guess.

My writing part of my day usually doesn’t start until around eleven or noon, on a good day.  My brain doesn’t shift into gear, unless I’m on the downhill slide and wrapping up a book.  But I’m working well before that.

And that’s not including being mama…although naturally, that’s there, always.  Mama comes first and last and everywhere in between…and that’s why I’m out of bed by 6:30 five days of the week.  Kid 1 & 2 are mostly independent now, out of bed on their own and the most I have to do with them is play referee over the bathroom…or judge and jury when they get out of hand.

Kid 3?  AKA the infamous baby bratlet who isn’t really a baby anymore?  Oh, wow.  Different story.  Things have levelled out…ADHD and mornings aren’t a happy mix, but we’ve finally figured (or I have figured) out the right way to handle mornings and is usually works.  Some days, though, I’m more frazzled by the time she goes than I am after talking with my editor  reading the ‘here’s what ya gotta fix’ notes from my editor driving through New York City… I’m just frazzled.  I blogged about learning about her ADHD diagnosis a while back…it’s not the discipline issue so many people think and it’s not just being hyper.  It is an ongoing learning experience.  And sometimes frazzling.

Frazzled or not, come 8:30…ish… my time is usually mine, or mine for work.  Email…

Dear ma’am we read your blog and we think you’d be an ideal fit to promote our new product and in return, we’ll supply you with a free sample–DELETE

Ms. Walker, I saw that you quit writing the Hunters series.  I just found them and I really wish you could go back to writing… Save and reply

I just read ur bk blade song.  is bk 2 out yet.  Hi, thanks for writing and I hope you liked it.  Yes, Book 2 is out. You can read more about it at … insert link. Thanks for writing, Hit send…

I saw what you said on twitter about reviews.  I think it’s cool that you can be okay with bad reviews.  It’s nothing personal.  I might check out your books. Save and reply

I saw what you said on twitter about reviews and ranty authors.  Don’t you think you’re being a little hypocritical?  After all, you rant.  Why shouldn’t they get mad about reviews if you get mad about shit? Sigh, scratch head.  Save.  Debate on replying.

Hi!!! I just read Wrecked and ohhhh, I luv zach sssssoooo much, pls tell me you’ll be writing books for Seb and Zane and the twins.  but pls don’t put Zane with Keelie, i hate her.  Hey there! Thanks so much for writing…I’m glad you enjoyed Wrecked, and yes, I’ll be writing a couple more.  You can read about them here… insert link, hit send.  And thinking…people are gonna hate me because Zane wants who he wants and that’s only ever been Keelie.

Hi,Shiloh!  I got the MS in… I’ll be reading it soon and it’s time to cover conference…but we’ve got to consider changing the title.  There are a few other books out there with a similar title and… Gaping. Staring in shock at email from editor.  But I WROTE the entire book around the premise of that title.  IT FITS! Seething. Brooding. Emails friend.  Seeths to friend.  Ponders.  Tosses titles around.  Friend helps come up with title that hasn’t been used…will come up with a way to THIS title and make the story play off it more than the other title.  And now title will stand out.  Fine.  But I’ll still sulk.

Takes a break, stares at inbox.  Gulps.

Email from assistant… did you get my invoice? Eep!  Yes, just finished book, brain leeking out ears.  Check in mail, promise.

Goes to play on twitter a little.  See GR link to an author meltdown–eyes the email in inbox. #headdesk.

Knock at the door. Jehovah’s Witness. Smile, take flyer.  Disappear inside the house.

Sits at desk, tackles edits on RS.

Goes back to twitter.  The brouhaha about author meltdown has exploded.  It’s approaching critical mass.  Tweets funny pics from Depressed Darth instead.

Edits a few more pages.

Almost noon.  Hungry.  Did I remember to run?

Food achieved, edited 20 pages. Time to write.

Can’t get motivated… I know! Check into twitter…whine about lack of motivation and looking for partners in #1k1hr.  Also, tweets funny pics from Jedi Order PR.

Somebody knocks.  Fedex.  Dumps package on counter.  I have partners for #1k1hr.  Sixteen minutes in?  Phone rings.  Bleh.  I didn’t need to answer that.

Score! 1400 written.  Phone rings.  Ignored.  Another round of #1k1hr.  Somebody knocks… AGAIN.  Author is getting rabid.  Schwann’s guy.  Author has to play human because she needs stuff.  Stuff obtained.  Back to #1k1hr. Only hit 800 words.  Irritation.  15 minute break then back to–stupid phone rings again–answering machine, thank…oh, crap.  I have to answer that.

No…he’s not…won’t be home until…oh.  Okay.  I’ll text him.

All while silently screaming.

Late joining in on #1k1hr.  Managed to get 1100 anyway.  Getting anxious cuz kids due home soon.  Check phone for reply from the guy–might have to leave to meet him early…

Older two kids off bus.  Tell them we might have to help Dad shovel snow and leave in a little while.  Inwardly snarling. Kids are being loud.  Duct tape isn’t an acceptable form of child-rearing, I’ve been told.

Text… that’s fine.  We can meet there after work.

Oy.  Kick into overdrive. One final #1k1hr.  Forty minutes in-phone call. That’s it.  I’m ripping it out the wall.

Hey, everybody. Wednesday service is on tonight… somebody came and cleared the sidewalks…

Me.  Staring at the phone.  That’s what we were supposed to do.

Grabbing phone. Another text. Me. Collapsing into limp puddle.

One day later.

Sticky note pasted to computer for the guy: I ran off to the coffee shop to escape endless door knocking and telephone ringing.  Love, your rabid wife.

**#1k1hr 1000 words in an hour.

***kinda sorta written tongue in cheek but the stuff has happened, just not all in one day, except the day where I had the endless phone calls and the Jehovah’s Witness, Schwann’s, and Fedex guy all show up within two hours of each other.