The Day in the Life of a Writer
Greetings everyone! My dear friend, Iyana Jenna, who has graciously invited me to come visit her (thank you!) asked me to write about what a day in the life of a writer is like. I thought it was a great idea, so I promised her I would do it.
I’m not a full time writer (I wish), but to be honest, neither are a lot of the writers we love. So, with that in mind, I’m going to tell you what a Monday is like for me. Why a Monday, you ask? Well, because at the moment that I am writing this it is Monday. LOL
Without further ado, let me introduce you to: A Monday in the life of Elyzabeth M. VaLey
6:30 am: Wake up, wake up, wake up! Time to walk the dog, (my sister walks the other one, so that plural is not a mistake *wink*), have breakfast, feed the cat, feed the dogs shower and get ready to go to my course. Did I mention pack some lunch and a thermos with coffee?
6:40-7:10am: Walk the dog and let the muse run wild. A lot of my stories come to me when I’m out walking. Blind Beauty was one of them. I had been walking the dog (the black Labrador), when I saw Soussanna the witch (from the Golden Cock) and her daughter in a scene. I can’t tell you too much about that particular scene because it doesn’t happen in this book, but I can share that it was where James’s name first came up.
8:15 am: Nap time on the bus.
9:00 am: A little more commute- This time on the subway. Too sleepy to think much.
9:30- 15:30: Course time. I’m currently doing a CELTA course to become an English teacher to speakers of other languages. *smiles* (Lunch and library time goes into this slot too.)
15:30 to 16:00: To work. If I haven’t eaten, then grab something. Otherwise, check emails on the phone while in the metro.
16:00-21:00: Day job, blegh. Fortunately, it’s not a very demanding job, so if I have time I write a little, do class work, etc.
21:00- 22:45 Commute! First the subway: I usually chat with my sister (we work together); Then the bus: I either write on my notebook, my phone or whatever is handy, TBH. I also use the time to catch up on my reading. Finally the walk: 15 minutes of walking home, usually spent chatting with my sister again (sometimes thinking about the story I was just writing on the bus).
The notebook I used to create James’s and Richard’s character profile.
22:45-0:00: Walk the dogs (story thinking time!), light dinner, talk with my mom and if I’m not too tired go online for a bit (Facebook, Twitter, emails, so on and so forth) and write.
And that my friends, is for the moment, what my Mondays look like. Tuesdays are different because I don’t have any classes, but that’s another story for another day. *wink*
James Macintosh is hours away from his new home. He is ready to start a secluded life away from all the rumors, insults and disgusted faces concerning his appearance. However, a meeting with a mysterious woman and her child, mingled with a sudden harsh snowstorm will set him down a very different path than the one he had originally envisioned.
Richard Randywine is an accidental fugitive living with a band of rowdy thieves. A good man at heart, he has gotten used to hiding his emotions behind his strapping muscles and brute strength. Yet, when the thieves ambush an unsuspecting rider, Richard is forced to drop his mask and step forward.
Will both men be able to see what lies before them or will they be blind to the possibility of happiness?
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Defined as weird since she was about eight, Elyzabeth honors the title by making up songs about her chores, doodling stars and flowers on any blank sheet of paper and talking to her dog whenever he feigns interest.
Losing the battle to the voices in her head is her favorite pastime after annoying her younger sister with her singing. Writing stories full of passion and emotion where love conquers all is her happy pill and she'll forgo sleep to make her readers live the dream.
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He climbed atop his horse, as told. His back molded to Richard’s, his body betraying him as it molded into the other man’s embrace. Richard pulled him hard against him, his body enveloping him in an almost suffocating hug.
“Go,” he whispered huskily into his ear, his breath fanning it. James pressed his thighs against Faith’s flanks, hoping the animal would understand, considering the strange position she was in. She did, for she set off at a trot in the direction Richard indicated. They galloped in silence, trees whirring past them, snow flying when they swept past. James eyes widened and he barely controlled the urge to order Faith to stop as he realized their impasse.
“Richard, the hoof prints, the snow.” James pointed at the visible trail. “They’ll track us down as easily as the king’s hounds trace a fox.”
Richard’s breath was warm in his ear. His hair tickled his temple and James had to suppress a shiver.
“I know.” Richard chuckled. “Don’t worry. I have a plan, besides wishing that they’ll wake up during the night and we’ll be miles away by then or that it snows heavily again.”
James wished he didn’t have to worry, but he couldn’t relax. The problem wasn’t so much the thieves that could pursue them at any moment, but the man behind him. He was too close, too comforting, and all too desirable. James shifted in his seat again, trying to find a comfortable position. One in which he wasn’t pressed up tightly against Richard’s groin. One in which he didn’t imagine he felt the length of his cock hard against him. Because, he was convinced it was his imagination. Otherwise, how could a man like Richard be interested in him? It didn’t make any sense. In his experience, men like Richard were ladies’ men. They seduced, fucked and discarded women. He wasn’t a woman and he’d been rejected too many times in his life. He didn’t need this. He didn’t need more pain. Richard’s fingers brushed against his side, the fingers digging into his flesh and distracting him as arousal flared in every centimeter of his flesh.
“What got you into thievery?” he asked, attempting to forget how close their bodies were.
Richard grunted in reply and he fell silent once more, fishing his mind for a topic of conversation. It came up blank. He thought about asking Richard to stop. Faith was probably tiring though she didn’t show it and surely, they were safe by now. He should ask. James knew he should, but he couldn’t. He was losing his mind, falling prey to the liquid fire that was consuming him inside and outside. He wasn’t sure if the man was hard, but he was. His cock was stiff and throbbing, the idea of taking or being taken by Richard flashing through his mind every time Faith bounced.
What would it feel like?
Flesh both silky and hard as steel brushing against him, an intimate caress, deep and longing. They’d become one man, writhing, gasping, and moaning. James’ breath hitched, the tightness in his breeches becoming uncomfortable. He clenched his teeth together and grasped the reins so tightly the material cut into his hands. He scrambled to regain his bearings, to remember whom he was with and what had occurred in the last 48 hours. He couldn’t trust Richard, but neither could he trust his treacherous body. He was not a beautiful man. Surely the thief didn’t want him. The thief. That’s right, Richard was a thief. He had no morals, no scruples, no—James groaned as Faith skipped over a fallen log, throwing Richard’s body against him, the erection he was sure he was imagining grinding against his bottom.