Romantic Comedy Writer Charlotte Hughes: A DAY IN THE LIFE of a Romance Author
My day starts out with coffee, lots of it. My two dachshunds know when I’ve had enough because they come downstairs with their tails wagging, letting me know it’s time to go out, despite the fact I haven’t put on my makeup and my hair looks like something out of a book entitled, “Beauty Secrets of the Damned.” This is a great time to meet men. They drive by at this hour asking directions. But let me walk out of the house looking like a million bucks and not one man will stop and ask.
My dachshunds, Muffin and Rambo, whom I sometimes refer to as Dumb and Dumber, are very spoiled and have a habit of chewing. We have an unspoken agreement. They allow me my coffee time, and I allow them to chew my stuff. Dumber, real name Rambo, is terrified of bad weather and must take a nerve pill at the first sound of thunder. Muffin has a bladder condition, and she trembles all the time as though she’s about to have a breakdown. She needs to be on a tranquilizer for that. I love it when a date picks me up. First thing they do is pet Muffin, and she urinates on my antique heart pine floors. But men love her. They see her as this dainty little creature who needs rescuing. If you ever want to appeal to a man’s strong side, pee on the floor when he walks through the door.
Since I work at home, my dogs are used to having me around. If I leave, they suffer “separation anxiety,” a term coined by my veterinarian so I won’t drop them off at the county dump next time they wreck havoc in my condo. There’s also a nerve pill for that. I figure in a year or so I’ll be dragging both dogs to NA Meetings.
I live in Beaufort, S.C., on a large island surrounded by small Sea Islands. There is water everywhere, and I find it comforting. I also live in the historic district. Each morning, I put my dogs on a leash and we take our power-walk through an area of antebellum homes, ending up on the bay where I order coffee from my favorite coffee house. It is not easy power-walking with dogs who have two-inch legs, but we manage. I figure in a year I’ll have lost two pounds.
I spend much of my day at the computer, although I put it off as long as I can. My friends can tell when the writing isn’t going well because I start doing things like cleaning out my refrigerator or taking my car in for an oil change before it’s due. I keep cover art from all the books I’ve written so that when I hit a dead end and start thinking I can’t write another book, I can look at my cover art and tell myself, “You’ve done this before, you can do it again.” That’s what I did when I gave birth to my second child. I kept looking at pictures of the first one and convinced myself I had done it before, that I wasn’t actually going to die from labor pains, I was only going to wish I would.
My days run fairly smoothly until time starts running out, and I’m staring a deadline right in the face. You would think after more than 30 books I would have a better handle on this, but I don’t. The last month before my deadline, I turn off my phone, hide the doorbell in the linen closet and seldom go out of my house. I don’t take time for makeup, but I do try to bathe and brush my teeth on a regular basis. I eat things that aren’t good for me, and I forget to exercise. The last week is really bad because by then I’ve run out of chocolate, and I’ve parked my car six blocks away so my friends will think I’m gone and not stop by for a quick visit that usually takes two hours out of my writing time. Have you ever noticed when you’re really pressed for time all your friends have problems? Their worlds simply fall apart. They split up with their significant other, their car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, or they have to call and tell you exactly what they’ve eaten that day that wasn’t on their diet. It’s like they think if they confess, the calories will go away.
Once I hand in the book, I collapse in bed for twenty-four hours. I actually suffer flu-like symptoms. None of my friends will visit me then, of course, because I’ve helped them work through their issues and they are perfectly happy while I am suffering the aftermath of yet another deadline.
Believe it or not, the funniest scenes in my book are taken from real life. They say life is stranger than fiction, and I believe it. Recently, I thought my condo had been broken into. I called my girlfriend who told me to get out of the house immediately and wait for her. I ran next door to my neighbor’s, told him the problem, and he grabbed a gun and followed me inside my condo wearing only his boxer shorts. Once he’d checked the house and saw there was nobody lurking inside the closets or under the beds, I told him my girlfriend would be racing through the door any second, and she would freak out if she saw a man in boxer shorts holding a gun. I asked him to please put the gun in his pocket. Well, boxer shorts don’t have pockets, so he tucked the gun in front, inside his waistband. I said, “I hope the safety is on.”
When you read a truly funny scene in my book, it’s likely it really happened to me. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.
To sign up for Charlotte's Newsletter:
