A Day in the Life of… Lauren Dane

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A Day in the Life of.....

This is where us bloggers & fans get a glimpse inside the days of our favourite authors!

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The story goes like this: While on pregnancy bed rest, Lauren Dane had plenty of down time so her husband took her comments about “giving that writing thing a serious go” to heart and brought home a second-hand laptop. She wrote her first book on it before it gave up the ghost. Even better, she sold that book and never looked back.

Today Lauren is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over forty novels and novellas across several genres. Though she no longer has to deal with Polly Pocket and getting those tiny outfits on and off, she still has trouble blocking out the sound of iCarly so she can write a love scene.

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A Day in the Life of…. Lauren Dane

Now, I know once you read this you will be absolutely shocked at how glamorous my day is so try not to be jealous, ok?

6 am and the alarm goes off. It’s still dark and I pretend I can’t hear NPR. I pretend I don’t have a teenager that will need to be roused from his bed. It helps that it’s cold and under the blankets it’s warm.

But then my husband has to ruin it by getting up and being all responsible so I pretend I was totally going to do that too and get up as well.

I head straight for the coffeemaker because my daily tankard of Kona is the patron saint of my job. Teen stumbles downstairs and tolerates my smooching on him and even a pet name or two.

7 am and I shove teen boy from the warmth of the house into the cold morning air so he can catch the bus. Then I wake the other two up. I’ve had some coffee which sort of prepares me for the next hour of constant nagging to eat, stop bickering, eat, stop arguing, put your plate in the sink, go upstairs, brush your teeth, wash your face. Hey, did you brush your teeth? Ten minute warning. Hey did you brush your teeth? Brush your teeth. Don’t yell at your sister. Did you brush your teeth? We have go to now. Get your backpack. No, I’m not making anyone a lunch, we have to go right now. Oh my god how did you not brush your teeth?

I go out to the bus stop with them, smooch them both, give a whispered lecture in someone’s ear about the importance of brushing teeth and the blessed yellow school bus comes and for a short time my life is perfect.

Usually the three minutes or so from the bus stop until I get back inside the house.

10 am If I’m good, I’ve started writing and done at least one sprint and gotten at least a thousand words.

Alternately, and more likely, I’ve intended to sprint but am online, most likely at twitter because I’m like a dope fiend and I love twitter nearly as much as my coffee.

This is sort of what the next few hours look like: Hey is that Real Housewives gossip? Oh, look at that link. He’s pretty! Why is she so mean? I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that link to someone who hated my book and I’m also going to IM Megan Hart and tell her about it and what a dumbass I think the person who linked me is.

Pretends not to obsess over amazon rank.

Tries not to argue with that person about that issue.

Fails.

Actually does get writing done because I make myself cry with all the mean things I say about being a lazy person who needs to get her work done before her wild children get home from school.

It’s noon and I make myself lunch. I could totally lie to you all and pretend that I didn’t eat like nine pot-stickers and washed them down with Doritos. If I’m on a deadline I may have just foregone the pot-stickers.

1:30 and my oldest will be home from school in an hour. I give myself a stern warning about getting my daily words done by that point and then I go to tumblr for research and end up linking ten hot bearded dude pictures.

2:45 oldest gets home. I nag him to do his homework, knowing he’ll waste at least the next hour laying in his bed or being in the bathroom or pretending he’s not texting his girlfriend every three minutes.

There’s more arguing on twitter and I get sucked into some blog where someone has done something they were stupid to have done in public. Lots of stupid stuff gets said. I answer email. Think about all the stuff I need to do. I eat an orange and then half a chocolate bar. But I had an orange, which everyone knows cancels out the chocolate. Duh.

3:30 and the other two have arrived and are…you guessed it, bickering. I’m nagging everyone at this point to do homework and stop fighting. I’ve confiscated a phone at least three days a week.

Someone will have needed something RIGHT AWAY at least once a week. I don’t want to do it. I make excuses and pretend to be tough but let’s all be honest, I’ll do it and hold all that rage inside or I’ll cry for seemingly no reason later when my husband gets home.

I should clean the kitchen at some point and after I manage to limp through those last five hundred words despite being interrupted every three minutes with a random fact about a video game, a story about someone at school who is mean or pretty or whatever, I do make it into the kitchen to clean up. This is normally when I realize I haven’t even thought about dinner.

It might be tacos if I’ve remembered to take hamburger from the freezer. It could be soup. Or it could be popcorn. I’m just that awesome. The closer I am to deadline the more popcorn becomes a viable dinner option. What? I’ll cut up an apple or two to go with it.

Dinner. More bickering. I manage to find eleven ways to ask about homework. Is it done? How much more do you have to do? Do you need help with it? Did you do it? When is that due? Yes you have to do your reading. No, an American Girls catalogue doesn’t count.

7pm – most days I’m finished working by this point. But there are days I’ve got way more to do. I ask, at least ten times, if everyone has clothes laid out for the following day.

Are you done with your homework? Where are your pants? Why did I just step in something wet in your bedroom? Never-mind, don’t answer.

8pm – I make everyone unplug. No television, DS, computer, whatever. Everyone has to be in their rooms reading or having quiet time. Which of course means I have to break up at least three different fights and they all keep pretending I can’t hear them running over my head all over the second floor when they should be in their bedrooms having quiet time.

I’m trying to go over these galleys for a book that’s going to print shortly. I look up from my screen every three minutes.

Mom what’s a prostate? (me: ask your dad)

Why are they called balls? (me: ask your dad)

Did you take a shower?

I’m told they just took one three days ago.

Take a shower.

Did you get the shower yet?

Take a shower.

Have you showered yet?

Brush your teeth.

Floss.

Oh my god, what is that smell?

Pick up your socks. You can’t just leave discarded socks all over the place it’s gross.

Did you brush your teeth?

I can’t hear anyone brushing teeth.

9 pm bed time. No one has brushed teeth. I step on a wet towel and nearly slip and break my neck on the wet bathroom floor where at least a gallon of water has pooled.

At least one toilet has not been flushed. Every light in the house is on.

Inevitably someone informs me of a dozen cookies I’m supposed to supply the next day or the pipe cleaners or yarn or something unobtainable I will need to send in for a project.

10 pm After digging through three drawers, the Christmas boxes and a few other random places I find ribbon instead of yarn, or crackers instead of cookies and dump them in a backpack where I’ll find them in a week.

Tumble into bed and read or watch TV with my husband and I am out by 11 or so where I will be woken up at 6 again to start all over.

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