Tag Archives: morning person

It’s 5.41 a.m. and time for tea

I have a not-so-small addiction to English tea, served with a splash of milk.  This habit began not long after we moved to Britain, which was sixteen years ago.  So let’s say for the last fifteen years, I’ve been drinking copious amounts of tea on a daily basis.

It helps to get the day started, especially one this early.  But it’s a comforting way to get my brain in gear.  I grew up in a ten-cup Mr. Coffee household, and I still adore the scent of java.  But I could never get my taste buds around black coffee, still can’t.  The weekly latte with one sugar at the Los Gatos Cafe is my treat; lattes don’t have to be hot, the sugar helps.  Tea must be more than warm, otherwise it lands in the microwave.  And yes, a few times I have forgotten my tea in that device, wondering where in the world I’d put it!

As a creature of habit, tea starts my day in a soothing, liquidy manner, not biting but certainly stirring.  A few days back my husband mentioned that I go off caffeine occasionally, to which I cleared my throat, then looked to the ground.  Not lately was my mumbled reply.  Lately it’s been leaded all the way, maybe due to these early mornings.  I need that kick more than I realize.

My next novel for publication is in the final stages; hyperlinks and linked table of contents today, and I really should write up those synopses.  But first I need to get my head clear, a little Bill Evans piping through speakers, a little blogging, a little tea.  Or maybe not so little.  I drink a pot every morning; my daughter usually has a cup when she wakes, otherwise that teapot belongs solely to me.  Today it’s a Royal Doulton Blueberry pot without a lid; the tea cools much faster, but I just don’t have the heart to throw away that pot, what the microwave is for.   At other times it’s a clear glass loose leaf pot my son got me last Christmas.  I swap between bags and loose tea, keeping it fresh.  Keeping myself caffeinated is more to the truth.  I haven’t gone off caffeine in years.

My husband was surprised when I admitted that small fact.  But I need that morning brew, can’t function without it.  Life is too short not to enjoy adequate tea.  (And still manage to get things done this early in the morning!)

What kind of published author I want to be…

I’ve given this a few days’ thought; I’m an indie author, okay, that’s very nice but…  What kinds of books do I want to release?

Well, I came up with two types of tales, and one manner of novelist.  I want to release relevant books.  Thoughtful novels.  Stories that for whatever reason grab me, don’t let go, even if they need the editing machete.  Okay, sounds good.

And I don’t want to work so hard.  That’s mostly due to my husband, who at forty-seven is already pondering retirement.  Not any more than sending me real estate listings from various locations: Honey, wouldn’t this be a great place to live?  Now, he’s not going to retire for several years, but it’s on his mind, while I’m just getting my publishing engines revved.  But I’m not young, and while I start early in the morning, no longer am I so driven to work until my husband gets home, four-ish most afternoons.  While it might seem odd, entering my second year of indie publishing, I just don’t want to work long days and weekends, unless I’m writing (like right now).

I’ve released a good number of books, eight indies, one with a small press.  Dianne Gray asked how many novels have I written.  Well, over forty.  The last four years have been full of words, just packed!  But as of right now I’m only planning on publishing maybe half of them, which includes those already out.  Just not enough time to sort them all, even if I stopped writing today.

Which I can’t, too many ideas teeming.  I came up with another around two thirty this morning, jeez!  The last thing I need is another plot.  (But it is always fun to make a new playlist for said idea…)

The books I culled weren’t inherently bad, just needed too much work, or weren’t relevant to me anymore, not thoughtful enough.  Those three are my manifesto, of sorts.  Not that I’m militant about it, just that sometimes decisions whack upside my head, that light bulb you know; aha!  I wasn’t actively thinking about books to publish or what kind of author, blah blah blah.  But my husband’s recent absence left gaping holes in my days, my evenings, my heart.  Time to ponder, time to write, time I should have spent scrubbing the shower.  Thank goodness that chap loves me.  I guess if I’m not working long hours as a writer, plenty of time will remain to clean the bathroom.

Maybe I’ll rethink that not working so hard clause…


Yes it’s early

Because I started a new book yesterday, I was exhausted by eight p.m. last night.  I had forgotten how that initial day of writing wipes me out, which is sort of funny, as all I do is sit on my butt like I do every day.  But the brain churns harder, cranking out a chapter.  I sure didn’t do much differently than any other day.

But loud teens playing football in the street at midnight woke me up.  I went back to bed before two a.m., slept well until five.  Now I’m awake, sort of.  Need a shower, Grape Nuts, tea.  Another chapter awaits, maybe that’s why I’m sitting here, contemplating my day before I usually do.  Something about writing a new novel, I suppose.

(If only I could stir those sporty, night owl teenagers, oi!)