A Day in the Life of a Writer – 780 Words of Pure Fiction

I entered a contest last month on the Rave Reviews Book Club. I lost 😦 but then  again, I won because it was a really fun little exercise in writing something under 1,000 words.

It’s kind of silly, scary and weird but I had fun writing it. I can’t help but wonder what sort of strange day I was having when I wrote this.

I hope you have fun reading it. 🙂

THE POOL BOY
780 words

When I awoke this morning, my coffee was ready and set out for me on the kitchen counter. It was the perfect shade of beige and the aroma of French vanilla creamer rose in steamy waves into the air. A full eight hours of sleep lifted me to my toes for a stretch, as I carefully balanced the delicious hot liquid in one hand and my iPhone in the other and headed for my favorite writing spot.

As I sat in my comfiest pajamas, the ideas that swirled in my mind before I closed my eyes last night were as fresh as my coffee and my notes were open and ready. One quick swig and a gentle pull on the lounger handle and I was ready to begin. After all, these characters and all of this research certainly wouldn’t be going to waste because I had all the time and space I needed to put down at least a few thousand words today.

Several hours in, my stomach began to rumble but I definitely was not in the mood to cook. Fortunately, I’d had the foresight to prepare a delicious brunch last night for this occasion. I opened the homemade chicken salad and fresh sliced veggies and slid onto the counter stool. As I nibbled on the moist, plump, white chicken and crunched away on the celery and carrots, I thumbed through my phone to check my e-mail.

“Back to work,” I mumbled to myself. “This book isn’t going to write itself.” But with a heavy sigh and a smile of satisfaction, I allowed my mind to wander elsewhere. “Surely the pool water is warmed up by now,” I said as I strolled upstairs to slip on my new swim suit and go for a relaxing dip.

I peeked out the bathroom window and spied Charlie, the pool boy, vacuuming and skimming the pool. Sometimes it’s as if he has a sixth sense and knows exactly when I’m about to have my swim. He knows how much I detest anything floating in the water except me. “Hmmm…it appears Charlie has been hitting the gym hard lately,” I said to myself as I watched his tan biceps flex when he worked the vacuum pole back and forth. I continued watching as he pumped up my favorite float and sat it right next to the ladder at the shallow end where he knows I always like to step in.

“Good morning Charlie,” I said as I slowly peeled the hot pink velour towel away from my body. “It certainly is hot out today.”

“It’s getting hotter by the second ma’am,” he responded as he took my hand while I slipped off my white wedge sandals. “Been working on that new book?”

“Oh, of course, you know I’d never indulge myself like this if I hadn’t at least written four chapters this morning.” I smiled and unfolded my sunglasses, and slipped them into place on my nose.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Would you be a dear and run into the kitchen and bring me my iced tea? I completely forgot and left it on the counter.”

“It would be my pleasure,” he said as he dashed off, glancing back at me over his shoulder with a wink.

While I waited for Charlie to return, I noticed my favorite lounge chair was in the wrong position. “What’s this?” I muttered and backed away. Thick beads of perspiration began to form on my forehead and I thought for a moment my eyes would eject from my skull. The back of the chair was set to the fifth level and not the fourth. I became enraged and ripped the sunglasses from my face and flung them into the pool. With a growl that could have been confused with that of a rabid dog, I picked up my five hundred dollar wedges and squeezed them in my clenched hands and waited for Charlie to emerge from the patio doors.

“What is it ma’am? What’s wrong?” he asked, appearing stunned and unaware of his incompetence at which time, I pounced, and beat him repeatedly with my shoes until I was too exhausted to enjoy my swim.

Such is a day in the life of a writer. As much I hate to admit it, here it is nearly four o’clock in the afternoon and I’m still sitting here in my pajamas, drinking cold coffee and staring at my computer screen. I’m starving and I’m about to take a sledge hammer to the neighbor’s lawn mower. At least my imagination is still set at level four, even if poor Charlie isn’t going to make it to chapter five.

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4 thoughts on “A Day in the Life of a Writer – 780 Words of Pure Fiction

  1. Pingback: “A Day in the Life of An Author “Continued – My Critique! | Author P.S. Bartlett

  2. Pingback: “A Day in the Life of A Writer”Continued – My Critique! | Author P.S. Bartlett

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