A Glimpse of The Writer’s Life by Stephanie Queen, Writer

How-are-you-writing“What’s it like to be a writer?” The fans ask relentlessly with wonderment in their eyes and voices filled with reverence.  Let’s pretend for a moment that this has happened to me dozens, hundreds, no—millions of times—as I sat at book fairs mobbed for my autograph on my latest bestseller…

Snapping out of my trance, I realize, having imagined the scenario above, that it may be a mystery for the uninitiated, what exactly a writer’s life is like.  Putting aside the realistic notion that every writer’s life is different, I decided to share a glimpse today—another glimpse.  (okay, so I couldn’t think of anything else to write about—and I’m NOT writing about writer’s block again!)

Have you ever been so absorbed in something—not on TV—that you didn’t realize the room was filled with smoke and the hard-wired smoke alarm blared until the banging on the door startled you. And when you answered the door the fireman stood there and said, “What were you cooking for dinner tonight Ms. Queen?”  Then after he put the fire out and installed a padlock on your oven, on his way out the door he handed you a take out menu.  So you said, “Are you trying to starve me to death?” And he said, “Don’t worry—your cat will save you from starving—she’ll remind you to feed her…”  And you said, “You want me to eat cat food?” Then he didn’t say anything for a minute and so you slammed the door on him in a huff.

Has that ever happened to you? (I wouldn’t mind, but I’d only written 73 words that day.)

Next Glimpse

Have you ever realized as the sun was setting at around eight o’clock at night that you’d forgot to get out of your pajamas that day and so you jumped from your chair—and almost fell because you had no feeling in your feet and the pins and needles made you scream—and threw on some clothes—okay, so you threw on a coat over your pajamas and slipped into some flip-flops and dashed out the door—whistling for your chauffeur (who’s name was probably something other than Myren) and said to him, “Take me somewhere where there’s people who I can interact with—fast—It’s an emergency! I’ve forgotten what dialogue sounds like!” And he doesn’t blink an eye, but answers, “You realize I’m not a mute, right?”

(Of course I knew, but I’d forgotten for a minute and anyway he generally avoids me and tends to talk more to the kitten).  But this isn’t about me. It’s about the writer’s life.

To recap:



Doesn’t this sound like an exciting life?!  (I know you’re jumping up and down right now asking “Where do I sign up?”)

If I were a Pollyanna (which I am), I’d tell you “We’re just getting started—there’s lots more fun and exciting glimpses I could share!”putting the patented positive spin on charred dinner and chatting up strangers at the grocery store—but really, I’m not spinning. It is fun, because in between all this scintillating action there’s a whole other world going on—inside my head.

To find out what goes on in there, all you need to do is read my books.

9 thoughts on “A Glimpse of The Writer’s Life by Stephanie Queen, Writer

  1. lol’ing, Stephanie. The other day my mom asked if I was going to change out of my P.J.’s. Not yet, I said. I understand the humorin some of your days. Great post.


  2. All so true. I go days, sometimes weeks, without leaving the house unless there’s absolutely nothing left to eat. Occasionally even months, especially in the winter time. Poor hubby barely sees me when I’m writing. He goes to bed at 9 pm, I go to bed at 3 or 4, and sometimes 7 am. He’s up by 6 am. I don’t get up until nearly noon, and then only because I have to fix his lunch. I can’t remember the last time I actually talked to someone besides him. We don’t get invited to parties any more because I’m always nose-deep in a book. I no longer know what it’s like to have an in-person friend. I don’t have time to devote to maintaining a friendship. Even my kids rarely call because they don’t want to interrupt my writing. They know I’m more likely to answer an email or text message.


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