10. 45 a.m. I am lying on the sofa with a cold flannel on my head whilst taking some deep breaths.
Keith, my boyfriend enters the lounge. He gives me a puzzled look.
“You alright love?” he asks, standing over me.
“I have written 276 words!” I say in between breaths. “I am exhausted!”
“Oh” he murmurs. “Do you think you need a break?”
“You read my mind!” I exclaim, removing the flannel and rising quickly from the sofa. “Time for a little break!” I say, turning on the TV.
“We could watch the first episode from that new box set if you want?” asks Keith.
I squeal with delight and do a little dance on the spot. “Yes that’s a great idea! One episode and then straight back to writing!”
Sigh! I am so lucky to have an understanding partner like Keith. It is so important for a successful writer like me to have a supportive partner.
11.45 a.m. “Wow that was amazing!” I gasp as the credits on the programme start to roll.
“Better get back to your writing!” says Keith, getting up from his chair and stretching. “I am going to make a cup of tea!”
“Why don’t we watch another episode and I can get back to my work straight after lunch?” I suggest, thinking about the box set and how I want to dive deeper into the other episodes.
“But…what about your writing?” asks Keith, making my neck and shoulders stiffen with agitation.
“It will keep!” I snap, gesturing towards the TV with the controller.
“But you have made good progress today” says Keith.
I exhale loudly. Sometimes Keith gets on my nerves with his interest in my writing.
1.45 p.m. Just finishing the 3rd episode of our boxset. I am breathless and buzzing with Netflix excitement.
“Oh my goodness that was amazing!” I gush.
“Ok Tina do some writing and we will watch another later!” suggests Keith.
I glance at my writing-table. I know what is waiting for me over there. My body does not want to move from the sofa.
“Tina do some writing!” orders Keith, pointing to the writing desk.
I can feel anger starting to bubble inside of me. A successful writer shouldn’t be hassled or forced to do some writing, especially not from someone like Keith.
This is literary art that I am producing. It needs time to stew in my mind.
“I will write when I am ready!” I say defiantly, tearing open a bag of cookies.
“When will you be ready?” says Keith, his voice tinged with exasperation.
“After a couple more episodes of our box set” I snap, wishing Keith was a bit more understanding.
4.45 p.m. The credits are rolling on the 5th episode.
“Are you ready yet?” asks Keith.
I glance at my writing desk. The second chapter of my novel is hard work and wasn’t easy this morning. “No not yet!” I sigh, reaching over for another cookie.
6.09 p.m. The 7th episode was fantastic. Keith and I were glued to the TV screen. Neither of us took any notice of Margaret, our cat, snarling and hissing whilst stood on the coffee table.
“You ready now?” asks Keith.
I shake my head. “Think I am still tired from what I did this morning” I say, before yawning loudly.
“Are you too tired to watch another episode from our box set?” Keith asks.
“NO!” I bark, making him jump.
7.56 p.m. The 8th episode was out of this world. My heart is still racing from all the drama.
“You ready to write yet?” Keith asks.
I look at the clock and then to my writing desk. “Far too late to write now. Let’s crack on with another episode!”
“Don’t writers enjoy writing into the night?” asks Keith, once again making me prickle with agitation.
I exhale loudly and cross my arms. “How many times!” I shriek. “I am NOT like other writers Keith – I am different!”
“I just want you to do well with your writing” says Keith.
“Look how much I have achieved already with my writing” I say proudly, lying back on the sofa thinking about my political thriller series ‘Intrigue at No. 10 Downing Street’. I must change the cover of it as that’s what stopping readers from enjoying it.
“Your last book was only bought by me, both our mothers and the neighbour” mumbles Keith.
I let out a loud sigh. “You all enjoyed it!”
Keith gives me a puzzled look.
“My mother is still in two minds about whether she enjoyed it” mumbles Keith.
“Your mother is not a literary critic Keith!”
“She thinks you should go to some writing classes” persists Keith.
“What to teach?” I ask, imagining myself self giving a lecture to lots of eager students.
“No” mumbles Keith, avoiding my stare.
“Just stick another episode on before I get upset Keith!” I snap.
It’s so hard for a writer like me not having a supportive partner.
I watch Keith break open his bag of honey roasted cashew nuts and wonder whether we have a future together. I cannot be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t get me.
He hasn’t even offered me one of his honey roasted cashew nuts. This is serious.