A Day In the Life of a Writer

A Day in the life of a Writer: Date Night with the Writer~


The keys felt good beneath my long slender fingers. I was hitting each needed key quickly, yet lightly, with few mistakes. I was so in the zone that I held my bladder for a forty-five minutes before giving into the normal body urge and even then, as I emptied myself, I held the last sentence in my head so I would not forget where my character was heading.

I could see my protagonist clearly now, her mission clear. The dialogue between she and the antagonist flowed freely. I felt as though I was eavesdropping on the conversation. Then, in the middle of this great dialogue, my cell phone vibrated loudly, causing me to jump.

“Crap!” I shouted, grabbing the phone looking at the screen. It was my handsome husband. I am always happy to hear from him, I appreciate the fact that he calls me while he is at work, just to say “Hello” or “I love you.” But I was not so appreciative today. I huffed and rolled my eyes before answering the phone.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Well hello to you too, sweetness.”

“Honey, what do you want? I’m kinda busy.”

“Oh, you’re writing.”


“Well, sorry to bother you but, I just wanted to know if you could iron my navy shirt for dinner tonight, this way it’ll save me some time.”

My fingers paused over the keys. Dinner tonight? Oh, no. It was Friday night, Date night.

I looked at my watch…5:40 p.m.

I had not showered all day.

“Hellooooo? Sweetness?” My husband said playfully.

He always looked forward to date night. So did I,but not tonight, I was on a roll!

“Yeah, yeah, Uh, OK. Your navy shirt.”

“Are you almost ready? I’ll be home in about 20 minutes.”

“Uh, yeah, almost. ” I stood, typing  frantically. I know I should be heading to the shower but I cannot get my fingers away from my keyboard.

There was a brief moment of silence. I was typing harder, faster.

“Are you still typing right now?”

I said nothing, holding my breath, I allowed my fingers to hover over the keyboard,

“Uh, you know we have reservations for 6:45?”

“CRAP!” I shouted, hanging up the phone and shutting the laptop.

You see, this would have not been a big deal, but my husband had been working late for the past few weeks and he was really looking forward to spending an evening out with his wife. I should be grateful, right? Instead I was pissed. I was now under pressure to get out of my comfortable writing gear (ripped tee and old sweatpants) and put on a fitted dress, do my hair (which is always a chore) and oh yeah, iron my husbands navy shirt.

I took a quick shower – like really quick. Pulled out a cute little dress slipped it on and found my husbands navy shirt. I ironed it in a hurry (still slightly wrinkled) and by the time he came through the front door, I looked presentable. All I needed to do was put on my lip gloss and those uncomfortable shoes and my wonderful hubby who had pressured me into going on this stupid date, would think I had been looking forward to this as much as he had.

We get to the overpriced restaurant where my husband showered me with  complements compliments and as I sipped my glass of wine a thought crept into my head that caused me to tune my husband’s voice out completely.

“You did not save your work.”

I swallowed hard and began to choke on the bitter grape that now lingered too much in the back of my throat.

“Are you OK?” my husband asked patting my back.

“No, no, I can’t believe this.”

“What, what’s the matter?”

“I didn’t save the chapter.” I said, almost in tears.


“I didn’t save the last chapter I was working on because I had to iron your stupid navy shirt and fix my stupid hair and go on this stupid date!”

My husband stared at me for a moment. I knew that look. It was the look that he gave right before we have an argument (sometimes caused by something stupid I said…sometimes).

But then, he grinned. What the hell was he grinning at?  Did he find my predicament funny. He’s so insensitive. Sensing my rising anger, my husband grabbed my hand and said “I’m proud of you.”


“You are really taking your writing seriously, I love it. This is not just some hobby for you, huh?”

I shook my head, shocked by his words.

“I read one of your short stories last week. I was waiting until tonight to discuss it with you.”


My husband nodded.

“It was really good, I mean, the ending blew me away!”

We sat there at dinner, discussing the short story he had liked so much and what my next steps would be.  I genuinely enjoyed myself, and I was taken off guard, pleasantly surprised by my husband’s support.

After we ordered dessert, my mind crept back to my lost chapter and my mood began to fall again, slightly.  But I was able to shrug it off.

“I love writing honey, but it is hard. I hope you’ll hang in there with me through all my mood swings.”

My husband shrugged and with a smile he said

“I’ll be well prepared  when you hit menopause.”

Written by

Latashia Figueroa

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