Guest Blogger: Rene Lyons

Most days run pretty smoothly around here. I rise bright and shinny at noon. My servant brings me a gilded tray bearing a steaming cappuccino, scones, and my morning paper. The nanny has Jesse fed, dressed, and in a wonderful mood. I languish in bed for an hour or so, thinking up some juicy plot-twist I’ll get to writing in between my manicure, massage, and hair appointments. After I write a bit, it’s usually off to some fancy boutique to shop for some cute clothes. Once back home, I take back to the computer where I spend the rest of my day lost in a world of vampires, demons, and demi-gods.

Well, the last part is true. The rest? Not so much.

I’m usually awakened at six (as in a.m. Blah) by a toddler yelling, “all done! Inside, Nae. Eat now.” In case you don’t speak “toddler” that’s “I’m all done sleeping. So are you, Mommy, so get your lazy butt out of bed and fix me some breakfast. Now!” And so, I drag myself out of bed, shuffle to the bathroom - where I contemplate flushing myself down the toilet. As I impatiently await my coffee to perk (is it me, or does it seem to take forever to make at that ungodly hour of the morning?) I make pancakes for my daughter, who by now is bouncing off the walls. I sit with her while she eats (no, I don’t do breakfast. Just the idea of food that early turns my stomach) wondering if there’s some law that prevents me from crawling back to bed, leaving her with the run of the house. (What? Don’t look at me like that! You’ve all thought the same thing too.)

By the time I get to the computer I already have a headache.

Throughout the day I try to get in as much work as possible without it getting in the way of my time with Jesse. I think I (sort of) have a nice schedule worked out. I’m sure when she’s older Jesse will be on some shrink’s couch talking about how I was a neglectful mom while she was growing up. And I’m sure I’ll think she’s lost her mind considering how hard I work to make time for both her and the writing.


Come the night, I work. And I mean work. I write until my fingers ache and my eyes feel as if they’re going to explode. I write until my head hurts so much I damn near have tears in my eyes. Most of what I write I keep. Some, come the next morning, I’ll trash and wonder what the hell I was thinking the before night. But always, I love what I’m doing. I’ve waited over thirty years to be at this point and never once have I forgotten I’m living my dream.

So although my life isn’t exactly calm, orderly, and luxuriant, it’s more than I could have ever hoped for. This is one hell of a ride I’m on. Thankfully, I have fantastic readers, a great family, and amazing friends to share it with.

- Rene Lyons

www.renelyons.net