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Writer Wednesday- What Would Your Best Day Ever Look Like?


So the question this month is- What would your best day ever look like?


As I pondered my 20,210 days on this planet, I culled the list down to those days when I could say I went to bed perfectly content.

Fortunately, I’ve had many days like this. But one stood out. It was the first Monday after I’d quit my day job to write full-time.

That Monday morning when I awoke, it wasn’t to an alarm blaring in my ear, but to the sound of my husband taking a shower. Before I did. For the first time on a workday in twenty-five years!

So I threw the covers back and walked downstairs to eat breakfast. After my hubs was off to work, I couldn’t believe I was going to be able to write all day long in peace and quiet. No traffic to fight, no phones ringing off the hook, and I didn’t have to let anyone know when to expect me and where.

I told my dog, the only other being home with me, that I could go downstairs to the basement and workout in the morning instead of the evening if I wanted to. How I spent my first day as a writer was going to be all up to me. So, maybe I’d workout later.  My dog agreed with that plan and went back to napping.

 I wandered into my office, read my e-mail, and then did my normal social media stuff. By the time all of that was done it was a whopping 8:30!  I looked around the quiet house and realized I don’t have to sit at my desk. I could grab my laptop and write in the backyard if I wanted, or the couch, or even in the kitchen nook. There was no need to hide away in my office so my husband would know I was working and leave me alone! Woo hoo!

So, just to be rebellious, I went to the back yard and settled in a chair to write. (My dog opted for the cool of the house.) But the sun was making my screen hard to see, and the wind and pollen made my allergies act up, so I went back inside to my office and got busy.

When I got stuck on a scene, I paced around the living room, walked on my treadmill desk for a bit, and then when the solution finally came to me, I wrote some more. Then my daughter called to see how my first day was going and we chatted for an hour. Then my son texted and asked the same things my daughter had but because it was all text, it’d only taken a half hour. Then two more writer friends called and asked how wonderful it was to write all day long uninterrupted. I was going to have to reconsider answering every phone call that came and let the machine get it sometimes.

After I’d gotten back to work again, my stomach growled, reminding me I forgot to eat lunch. After a quick bite, I settled behind the screen once more. 

The next time I looked up from my computer, it was almost time for my hubs to be home. And I’d forgotten to cook dinner! Or take a shower, or work out! Yikes. I’d told my husband to expect wonderful meals after work each night now that I’d have all this free time.

So I nixed getting dressed and ran toward the kitchen with my dog on my heels. He was getting hungry too.  I hoped there’d be something to throw together a little more sophisticated than a grilled cheese sandwich.

The dog and I pulled up short when we saw my husband putting flowers into a vase.  How had we not heard him come in? I must’ve been deep into it. The dog had no excuse. Some watchdog he was.

My hubs smiled and said, “Congratulations MS. Full-Time Writer!” Then his eyes did a quick sweep over my PJ’s, my makeup-free face, glasses, and mussed up hair. “Oh, no. You were sick on your first day?”

Now, there were a few ways to go here. I was a little sick that I had erased almost as many pages as I’d written. It’d just been one of those days. But, then I realized maybe I’d better not set the bar too high because it might happen again. So I shrugged and said, “Time just got away from me a bit today.”

“Oh.” He stood there looking perplexed for a minute, then said, “I felt like having pizza anyway. Want the usual?”

“Yes, please.” So much for his gourmet meals. And his wife looking even a tad presentable or they could’ve gone out to eat.

Luckily, he’s a good sport. And he likes pizza. A lot.

That evening after my shower, I placed my toothbrush on the charger and smiled. Because as imperfect as that first day as a writer had been, it’d been the best one ever!

What’s your definition of the best day ever?

Here’s what a few of my writer friends thought:

Fellow contemporary romance writer Priscilla Oliveras  | Romantic suspense writer Carol Post  | Historical romance writer Wendy LaCapra