Nocturnal Journal–Mandy M. Roth

I often imagine writers out there who sit at their desks surrounded with calm and quiet as they work diligently away on their stories. That is so not my life.

I live with my parents. It’s not what you think. When my dad had a stroke two years ago we invited my parents to move in with us. We put them upstairs and took the basement apartment for ourselves.

How does my morning start? I am awakened at seven am by the stomping of my father as he makes his way across the kitchen to make coffee. The kitchen is directly above my bedroom. I roll out of bed, careful not to roll onto any of the three cats who inhabit the basement apartment with us. I then make my way carefully across the floor, stepping over the two dogs sprawled across the carpet. Up the stairs I go and into the kitchen I stumble in search of my first cup of coffee.

I drink a cup while watching the morning news with my father and then I pour myself another cup and carefully make my way back downstairs. The basement apartment consists of a small living room, a bedroom, bathroom and small office. I sit back in my office read my emails. At this point I should bring up the fact that as my alter ego I am Chaoscat owner operator of Romance Junkies Review site. And I should mention that besides having sixty-four reviewers on staff I also get a lot of emails from authors as well as emails from the various online groups I am part of as a writer. As I am wading through the three to four hundred emails I get daily, in the back of my mind a tiny force is saying, “You should be writing.” I ignore the voice and keep working away on the emails.

A few hours later I decide I really need to get a working on my story. I open the story and start reading the last bits and pieces I wrote from the day before. About this time the three cats have decided they are bored, so they start to do circuits around the house. The only problem—-one of the circuits involves climbing up the back of my chair, balancing on the top of it and batting at my hair. So I start to type away with one hand, as the other hand shoos off cats. Eventually the cats get tired and I get the chance to focus. Or so I think. I hear the screech of fire tones going off from my scanner. Did I mention my husband is a full time fireman? Did I mention I live in a small town with less than three thousand people and everyone in town keeps abreast of the fire calls via scanners? So I stop typing and listen close to the call. Brush fire. Small one. Okay, I can go back to my typing. When it’s a big fire I often am the unofficial fire department rehab. I get a call from my tired husband begging me to bring by sodas, bottled water and chips. But they won’t be long on the brush fire so my rehab services won’t be needed.

I turn back to my story and start typing away. It’s then I hear the pounding from overhead. What is it you ask? My mother doing a tap dance in the hallway. We don’t have an intercom system. She can call my cell phone to get a hold of me but it’s just as easy for her to walk into the hallway and do a tap dance. I hear the pounding and head up stairs.

UPS has dropped off a bunch of packages. Books for review. I carry down an armful of mail and make myself comfortable on the couch. I turn on the TV and watch it as I open the packages and jot down the titles that came in. Every day I get packages. Every day I jot down the titles. Once I week or so I email out the list for the RJ staff to order what they would like to review. Once a week I take the orders and package up all the books, print out labels and ship them out to the reviewers. The post office loves us. We are their biggest business in town and help justify them staying open.

Today books are stacked away in plastic postal crate where they will stay until I divvy out titles. I turn off the TV and decide its time to eat. I make my way up stairs and raid the fridge. Mom is sitting down and watching a lifetime movie. I sit down and watch a bit of it with her as I finish my sandwich. My story is calling to me. But before I can get started again on it I have to take a peek at email. Two hours later, more emails answered, I open my story back up. I start to type. Fire tones go off. This time it’s not a fire, but a medical emergency. I listen to the call, curious what my husband is up to. The call is over, back to my story. I feel an odd sensation on my leg. It’s one of my dogs. He realized years ago that in order to get my attention when I am on the computer he has to lick my leg over and over until I can’t take it anymore and come up for air. I get up and let the dogs out for the hundredth time that day.

So goes the rest of my day. I pound out a few pages in between more cat circuits, more screeching fire calls, more peeks at my email.

Life as a writer for me is a chaotic circus.
Samantha Storm - http://www.samanthastorm.com/
*Shadow Vision ** On Sale Now!!
http://www.newconceptspublishing.com/shadowvision.htm
***
Eye of the Storm - now in print from NCP
My Space -
http://www.myspace.com/samanthastormbooks
Blogs- Butterscotch Martini Girls -
http://www.butterscotchmartinigirls.com/
Facebook -
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=532401128
*.¸¸.·´¨`*.¸¸.·´¨`*.¸¸.·´¨`*.¸¸.·´¨`*