Under normal circumstances, a recap of 2020 and a new goal list for 2021 would occupy this space. While I did achieve certain aspects of my 2020 list, we all know what the world has wrought upon us as of late. In 2021, many goals from January 2020 will be given a full redo.
In lieu of a goal list – which we may revisit down the line – I bring you a day in the life of a writer.
Somewhere, a writer writes. At least that's what they call it when they are too busy to answer your call, respond to your text, or generally do anything that requires socializing.
Let's take a journey, shall we, across what is a typical day in the life of one writer.
Saturday, January 2nd, 2021.
8:27 a.m. - Rise later than normal after being up past 1 a.m. the previous evening. Decided to watch WW84. Overall, I'd said the movie had some fun elements and some pretty fantastic action sequences. Though the story did feel a little disconnected in parts. I was rather disinterested the first 90 minutes or so but became truly invested the final 55. That's when the movie really kicked into gear for me. And the creators of the film must have done something right because I'm still thinking about it when I wake up. I spend the next 15 minutes scrolling social media to make sure the world isn't ending.
8:42 a.m. - Gave myself a stretch up, a mornin' yawn and went to the bathroom to wash up. Oh, wait, that's not me. That's Doug E. Fresh and Slick Rick on La Di-Da-Di or Snoop Dogg on Lodi Dodi. I simply roll out of bed and shuffle my weary bones to the living room.
9:01 a.m. - Coffee is brewing. Spending more time on social media, I debate whether to cook breakfast or not.
10:06 a.m. - I cooked breakfast. Ate it, all while thinking about writing. I should get a few words hammered out in the morning. Didn't. Played Candy Crush instead.
11:11 a.m. - Made a wish. Scrolled mindlessly through Instagram Stories until the end of the feed all while thinking I should sit down and write. Nope. Instead, I throw on a sweatshirt, track pants, and shoes. Out to face the gray day I go, taking a two-mile walk along the river.
11:47 a.m. - Return from my walk, refreshed and full of brilliant ideas that will no doubt change the entire literary and theatrical landscape. Get on Twitter to check notifications. Ideas all disappear into the ether. Decide to shower.
11:53 a.m. - Plot points galore! Character traits established! Ideas poppin' fresh, to the left and to the right!
11:58 a.m. - Step out of shower. Ideas lost. Dejected, stare blankly into the mirror for six minutes.
1 p.m. to 7 p.m. - Watch a lot of college basketball. Lay on the couch. Clean. Watch two episodes from the new season of Cobra Kai. (It's lost some of it's magic from the first two seasons but entertaining enough.) Eat lunch at some point. Then dinner, but not back-to-back. A touch of existential dread followed by a pinch of daydreaming.
7:22 p.m. - Tea time. Think about writing. Nada. Surfs internet.
8:49 p.m - Okay. Time to actually dredge of the courage to actually sit down and write. I mean, really pour out my soul and put pen to paper. You can do this. You're good enough, you're smart enough, and doggone it, people like you. Oh wait. Not me. That's Stuart Smalley. Or a book by Al Franken, who portrayed Smalley on Saturday Night Live and... where was I? Okay. Television is turned off. Music is playing. What should I work on? There are so many options. Maybe I should just free write to get the cogs turning and the gears grinding. [Proceeds to tap pen on desk for next 13 minutes.] Paces around apartment, tossing tennis ball off the wall. Need to write. Need to write...
9:57 p.m. - I think I wrote some words. It's been a blur, really.
10:30 p.m. - To bed I go, to read for a bit before drifting off to slumber.
11:11 p.m. - Made a wish.
11:14 p.m. - Puts down book. Turns off lights. Head hits the pillow but mind keeps racing as the world's most original ideas – ones that I should probably jot down – spring forth. Except the pocket notebook usually kept next to my bed for these exact situations is in the living room. Definitely should go grab it to capture these ideas but I am so comfy and cozy under the blankets. I repeatedly tell myself to not let these notions slip from my fingers. I badger myself so much I know I will remember them in the morning.
News flash: I don't.