I know how these things are supposed to go. I’m supposed to make you madly jealous of my life and ways by stating that I spring out of bed, refreshed and lovely (and probably in White Company pyjamas) at five for a forty mile run before settling down behind my laptop to bang out 30,000 words of potentially award winning fiction. I then cook a light, nutritious meal, go out to the theatre and am in bed by midnight.
That’s what you expect from authors, right? Well it’s not the life of any author I know. Mine goes more like …
Wake up somewhere around nine to the sound of a dog vomiting on the landing carpet. Reluctantly emerge (in my supermarket pyjamas) and, if I’m lucky, manage to avoid stepping in it. Put dogs in the garden, feed the animals, then make myself a sturdy cup of tea. Debate going for a two mile run. Decide not to and go back to bed with the tea and my laptop. Write about ten words, then spend an hour browsing the internet, Tweeting about my forty mile run, and wondering if there’s any bread left for toast.
Eventually young dog guilts me into going for a two mile flail, where I gasp my way at a pathetic speed along a local bridleway, arms flapping, and wheezing. Dog has a great time. There are rabbits, briefly. Come home, where further guilt and any insight gained during the flailing sits me behind my laptop for a while. Words usually result, although sometimes only on Facebook. Realise I have to be at the day job in an hour, so leap up and shower, walk the dogs again, and spend a snatched couple of minutes answering Very Important emails which have come in whilst I was in the shower and demand instant action, because most people assume authors spend all day behind the laptop (not counting the flailing time).
Off to work at the local Co-op, where they also fondly imagine I spend my time in White Company pyjamas, writing 30,000 words a day, and customers ask me how the writing is going. I am too guilty to say ‘hardly at all’ and smile calmly whilst mentioning a wordcount I will not reach until Christmas. On my break I shut myself away and eat a box of French Fancies whilst scribbling recent insights on the Work In Progress up my arm.
Home at ten thirty to walk the dogs again, spend another hour behind the laptop catching up with everything I missed whilst I was telling people how successful I am in the Co-op. Write a few desultory words and watch NCIS, whilst eating a ready meal, then feed all the animals again. Fall into bed regretting the earlier box of French Fancies and vowing to go for a longer run in the morning to work them off.
Rinse and repeat.
Jane Lovering celebrates the paperback release of her latest book, Little Teashop of Horrors on 8 May. Acclaimed as one of the country's finest writers of women's fiction, her win earlier this year means she has won both the industry's main 'Romantic Novel of the Year' and the 'Rose' Award - an achievement pretty much unheard of.
With the strapline, 'Secrets, lies, carrot-cake - and an owl called Shrillex,' the reader might not quite know what they're getting with Little Teashop of Horrors. It is, in fact, Jane Lovering at her best.
Little Teashop of Horrors, published by Choc Lit [http://www.choc-lit.com/] is available as an eBook and in paperback from all good bookshops, online stores and eBook platforms. [http://www.choc-lit.com/dd-product/little-teashop-of-horrors/ ]