The glamorous life of a writer

Yesterday I launched the second of my Sky Song books.  The plan was to upload the night before release date so that it would be live and ready to go first thing in the morning – that way I could make the most of my day off work for promo and admin.  What actually happened is that I waited around for most of the day for it to appear on Amazon, so that when it finally did I was just back from the school run.  My friend messaged me with congratulations: ‘I bet you feel amazing releasing a new book.’

I do, I thought, as I pulled a tray of fish fingers from the oven and dolloped them in ketchup.  Not exactly launch parties and premieres, is it?

For the moment, I seem to be leading some bizarre double life.  After taking this week off work I’ve had a taste of what life would be like as a proper writer with deadlines to meet and decisions to make and edits to do and nothing else. On Tuesday I’ll be back at my desk at the hospital feeling like I’ve been dropped into a parallel dimension.  I balance that with eighteen hour days and, since I dropped two days at my pay-the-bills-job to write, managing on a lot less money.  If anyone asks me what life is like as a writer, I show them this photo:

sausage

Before you suck in your breath and roll your eyes, I’m not complaining or looking for sympathy.  I used to think of myself as a secretary who wrote stories.  Now I think of myself as a writer who sometimes has to do other stuff to make ends meet.  But I’m a writer, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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