Day in the Life of Liz Fielding

There is a misconception that the life of an author is a glamorous one. All editor lunches, interviews on chat shows and book launches.

Occasionally - very occasionally -- one of these things will happen. Yesterday, for instance, I went to London for lunch with my editor. This, on a good day, is a three hour train journey. Yesterday the train was two hours late arriving in London and lunch started so late that I was still drinking coffee when the train I was booked on for my return pulled out of the station. Assuming it was on time. The one I eventually caught was over an hour late arriving home. Nine hours on a train.

Well, that's glamour for you.

Actually, the lunch - at The Orrery in Marylebone High Street -- was delicious. I indulged in smoked salmon, a stunning risotto and totally overdid it with a wonderful concoction of seared pineapple and mango and a lot of other good stuff.

That was yesterday. A once, or at best, a twice a year treat. (Of course we were working, too, planning books for next year!)

The reality of the everyday life for this author is more like the day before. It began before it was quite light - I like getting up early. I switched on the computer, fed the cat, made tea, then read my email, gradually clawing myself into a state of complete consciousness under the twin assaults of Twinings and correspondence from adoring fans.

Well, fan this morning. What a charming woman.

I replied - modestly -- and then rejoined my heroine, Sophie, somewhere in Chapter Three. I began, as I always do, by reading through what I'd written the day before. Fiddle a bit, move around a couple of sentences. Move one paragraph twice. Eventually decide to leave it where it was.

Pause for breakfast. Feed cat.

Belatedly remember it's the day the bin men come to collect the rubbish and leg it up drive with two sacks of same.

Make coffee. Chase after newspaper man to tell him he didn't leave the Radio Times last week.

Go back to Sophie who is out of work and being given a hard time by Gabriel York, the owner of the two dogs she's walking to keep the wolf from the door until she finds something full time.

Cat wants to go out. Natural tea break. Dh is using the kitchen to make mounts for his wonderful photographs since it's too cold for his workshop. Admire his work. (This is compulsory.)

Return to desk and decide that before I do anything else, it's absolutely vital that I change the colour on my visiting cards to match the latest bookmarks. Looks terrific. Print a page. Printer smudges. Print chapter 3 so far to give it a clean through. No problem. Print cards. Still smudges.

Post arrives. No interesting foreign editions to puzzle over, but no bills, either so on balance, a "good" day.

Clean printer the hard way. Print visiting cards.

The fishmonger calls and, virtuously, I decide on something low calorie to bake for supper. Dh needs to watch his weight.

Paint finger nails to match bookmarks.

Lunch . soup, toast and dh giving forth on the mendacious codswallop in the newspaper. (Nod in agreement. This is also compulsory.)

Feed cat.

Check email, send out press releases for City Girl in Training which is published next month (December) in the UK. Find my portable CD player hiding behind the fax machine. What bliss! No batteries, so hunt for mains lead which has been missing for weeks. Amaze myself by finding it exactly where it's supposed to be and look through CDs to choose something that will keep my brain focused. Mozart is supposed to be good for this.

Local newspaper phone to talk about City Girl. Persuade journalist to use cover of book in the paper rather than tired photograph of me. Excellent.

Put on the headphones and with the aid of Mozart Gold, manage to concentrate for a whole hour and finish chapter three.

Time to cook dinner, feed the cat (he's big, okay?) then slump in front of television and fall asleep.

Cat wakes me desperate to go out and hunt for something else to eat. Make two big mugs of Horlicks Light. Last minute check to see if there's any more email. Switch off. Go to bed. Remember cat is out, get up again and let him in, minus rodent. Go to bed. Fall asleep.