The Glamorous Life

Before I was an author I used to dream about the good life. Working from home, setting my own hours, sleeping in, writing when I want to write and never again being tied to a bell (yes, I was a teacher in my previous life). And let's not forget the payoff...money. Lots of it. From all my sales I'd buy a bigger house, take lavish vacations. Write the next bestseller from the shores of Hawaii.

Talk to any of my friends and they think this is my life. I'm an author, right? And all authors live like Danielle Steel, don't they?

Ah, the glamour...

That fantasy trickled through my mind today as I was sitting in the library, working on revisions for my April 2012 release, ENRAPTURED. Why was I at the public library? Because it's free to work there. A dollar in parking pays for free Internet and a relatively quiet place where I can get away from my screaming kids (all three of whom had the day off from school...thank you, budget reductions). Of course, free comes with a catch. Homeless people in serious need of baths. Teenagers who chat too loudly. Security guards who give you the evil eye when you smuggle in a Frappucino to keep you going. And then today...oh, today was the best of the best. A moment when I realized just how glamorous this writing life really is.

I'd parked myself at a table near an electrical outlet, in a wide aisle between stacks. Tables around me were empty. The closest person was a good three rows away. I had my earbuds in, was rocking out to the Gladiator soundtrack, when a gentleman in a turban walked by and dropped his coat on the other chair at my table.

Now, my table was small, round, maybe 5 feet across, with two chairs. There were three other empty tables around me. At least six other chairs. But this man had to sit next to me. He walked behind me, browsed the shelf, picked a book, came back and dropped it on my table with a crack. Then he sat down. Heaved out a sigh...loudly...one that was easily discernible over my music. Braced his arms on the table. And as the uneven legs of my table knocked my laptop into my hands, the overpowering stench of his cologne hit me and made me want to gag.

I ignored him. (Though in my head you know I was thinking, What the hell?) He finally got the hint and left. I watched him stalk across the library and head toward the children's section. *shudder* I went back to work. Ten minutes later he was back, dropping his coat on the same chair and settling down to watch me write.

Would it have made a difference if he looked like Brad Pitt? Ah, no. Creepy is creepy no matter the outer packaging. I routinely work at the library, and I've learned to avoid certain people. This was the first time I ever had to stop working and close my screen. Never mind the fact I was revising a very sexy love scene. When you can't write because someone who smells like a cross between bad body odor and Brut cologne is buzzing around you, you know you've hit the big time.

What was the topic this month? Oh yeah, hope. I still have hope that one day my fantasy of "the good life" might just come true.

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Quick Addition:

This is release week for BODYGUARDS IN BED, my romantic suspense anthology with Lucy Monroe and Jamie Denton. All week long I'm promoing great authors and giving away books and goodies over on my blog. Stop by and leave a comment for the prizes you want to be entered to win!