The Writer's Perfect World

Lately, I've been swamped at work. To writers like myself, "work" is an acutal job that helps pay the bills. Unfortunately, "work" all too often gets in the way of my true passion, which is of course, sitting on my butt watching TV. OK, ok, "work" gets in the way of my second true passion, sitting on my butt and writing. If only I had several, non-stop hours to devote to writing.

In the writer's perfect world, there would be no day job to go to. The day would start off with the kitchen staff bringing me breakfast in bed; a tray filled with a plate full of hotcakes, egg bake and sausage gravy, and a glass of pineapple juice. After breakfast, I would stroll to the bathroom where the attendant has a warm bath drawn. With a ring of the bell, my robe and slippers would be presented. For the rest of the morning I would retire to my office, a spacious room with a spectacular view of my beach front property. After the maid tidies up my desk and the butler brings in a tray of snacks and drinks, it's time to buckle down. The fantastic sequel to "The Toupe'd Eagle" that was thought up while the masseuse worked out the kinks in my back the evening before, flows onto the computer screen as my fingers sail over the keyboard at an incredible rate. A week later, the first draft is done.

Line one of the red phone on my desk flashes. I pick up the receiver to hear my agent tell me "The Toupe'd Eagle" has been approved for publication. I slip in a joyful "YAHOO!" just before my agent informs me that the publisher wants me to author several other books in the series. I hang up ecstatic about the contract. I waltz over to the wall mirror. "Lucky I don't have a day job," I tell my reflection, which happens to wink back at me. "You have all the time in the world to write, you handsome author, you."

Corny? Yes! But a guy can dream can't he?