I was listening to Natalie Sisson’s, The Suitcase Entrepreneur, podcast www.suitcaseentrepreneur.com on the way to school yesterday and she posed an interesting question as she was sitting somewhere exotic enjoying a frisbee and cocktail adventure week (I recommend you listen to her podcast to find out more – that woman really knows how to live). What would your perfect day look like? she asked. How can a romance writer resist such an invitation…
My perfect day:
I awake to the dawn light that bespeaks of a spectacular sunrise. The air is still and filled with the salt-spray smell that accompanies the nothing-better-to-do waves as they race back and forth from sea to sand, begging the accompaniment of post-dawn human footprints – mine – to partake of a leisurely low-tide stroll to a distant yet beckoning headland, accompanied by a sun that continues to rise in the face of predictions that foretell its, and the world’s, impending doom, and bathes my face in new-day rays that are, I must say, rather more flattering than that middle of the day high-noon bitch of a sun that ages one wearily.
Replete from an early morning ritual that makes this writer a pious writer, I wander back to my fancy BruderX off-road go-anywhere Camper (yeah, I’m dreaming) that skites of a front row vista to write awhile at my collapsible, yet impressively stable, fold-up table, reclined in my (red) Oztrail camp chair with its little holding table for my pannikin of milo with two sugars (I’ve gotta dream of one of these ’cause I can’t afford to buy one, and who says milo doesn’t need extra sugar anyway?).
It is a day full of promise. The beach is, of course, deserted – why ruin a perfect day with a hero, even a handsome one – and the waves make suitably background crashing noises. Word-count is completed, say 5000 words, in an hour or two with nary a pause, and it’s time to grab a towel, backpack with chocolate biscuits and a can of coke, and my fancy iPad-stay-charged-for-ten-hours-Pro. Stuffed into my slimline, body-lifting one-piece swimsuit – black with plunging neckline out of respect for the fact that this is a romance – and white t-shirt with navy shorts and Anaconda sandals, I’m off to partake of a plethora of adventures that sees me snapping Instragram selfies and gaining hundreds of new digital nomad, work from anywhere followers, who happen over to my podcast and give me feet-kissing iTunes reviewing five-stars while I zip-line my way to repletion.
All I need now is a cocktail. Anyone wanna make this romancer a fluffy duck?