A Day in the Life of.....
This is where us bloggers & fans get a glimpse inside the days of our favourite authors!
Before taking up a permanent residence in the San Francisco Bay Area, Mimi spent time living near NYC (became a shopaholic), in Mexico City (developed a taste for very spicy food), and Arizona (now hates jumping chollas, but pines for sherbet sunsets). Her love of pre-Hispanic culture, big cities, and romance inspires her to write when she’s not busy with kids, hubby, work, and life…or getting sucked into a juicy novel.
She hopes that someday leather pants for men will make a big comeback and that her writing might make you laugh when you need it most.
Day in the Life of - MIMI JEAN PAMFILOFF
Hi All! Welcome to a typical weekday inside my head. Most days are sunny. Some days are cloudy. But generally, it’s just crazy-busy. Here’s how it usually starts:
“Hey, Mimi, you’re looking really sexy since you lost those twenty pounds. Sure you want me to end up with Emma?” Votan looked out across the ocean of white fluffy clouds before us, lying on a beach towel, picking away at a bunch of grapes.
Damn, he’s right. I do look good. This new diet and exercise are really working. “No. You really should stay with Emma; my readers would hate me if I stole you away. But you can rub that suntan oil on my back if you—”
What the hell is that awful sound?
I crack open one eye and glare at the nightstand. Oh. Alarm clock. Hate you, hate you, hate you. Is it 4 a.m. already? I should hit snooze. Snooze is good.
No. You need to do yoga, thirty minutes. You have the ass of a lazy sixty year old. And you only wish you’ve lost twenty pounds.
Maybe that’s why you like writing fiction; you get to be your characters and they all have fantastic asses.
Are you getting up or not?
Ugh. Okay. Getting up. Getting up. Must find coffee…need coffee….
I sound like a coffee zombie. I wonder if that would make a good book? Hmmm…
Kitchen. Kettle. Grind coffee. Peet’s French Roast. Yumm... Turn on laptop. And….downward dog. Ow, ow, ow…I need to do more yoga.
Hold. Breathe. Owww….how long is that? I look at the clock on the wall. Only two minutes?
I drop my butt hoping that today’s routine will produce a miracle: me actually finishing it.
Plank, hold. Owww….need to do more yoga. How long now? Oh look! The water is boiling.
Maybe I’ll finish my thirty minutes tonight?
Yes! That’s a better idea.
Okay. Let’s see what the computer says. Email….Facebook….those are good ways to wake up the old brain. Right?
Nope! You have a deadline. And people are waiting for that book. No socializing!
Ooohhh…coffee good. Me like coffee…
I take a whiff from my lucky soup-bowl-sized mug that says San Francisco. When lucky-mug is on vacay in the dishwasher, I use my giant Tahoe mug or the John Deer triple sized mug—can’t ever get enough of that first cup. Yunno?
Yes. You should write. At least two pages before work.
I open the file and go to page 300. Okay…reading, reading, reading. Who wrote this? Me? Because it’s frigging hysterical. God, I rock.
Reading, reading, reading…
Did I write that? God, I suck. Delete, delete, delete.
What? 6:30 a.m. already? How the hell did it go by so fast?
I scramble out of my office and make sure my hubby—aka Superman—has gotten the boys up for school.
I find him shirtless, scrambling eggs in his gym clothes, looking super-sexy.
Damn. I love that man. He’s already been to the gym and has surely done a full 45 minutes of crunches unlike yours truly. He also looks ten years younger than me despite being six years older. Note: remember to show him some appreciation tonight. It’s been a week. What the hell kind of romance writer am I?
He tells me that son #1 is in the shower. My littlest is already dressed and playing with the new puppy, Snowy. Or more affectionately referred to by them as DJ Princess Snowflake. (Don’t ask.) I kiss hubby, then my little guy—no kiss for the dog (she was just licking herself. Yuck.), and run my oldest out of the shower before he uses up all of the hot water.
In no time at all, I’ve showered, dressed--God, I look fat in this. I need to do more yoga—and start on my hair.
Crap. Is that the time? We’re already 15 minutes late! Ponytail today again. Kids will have to eat breakfast in the car. Where are the kids? I just know they’re doing something bad; they’re quiet. Way too quiet, and….Oh no. Again? I’m going to have to teach them not to play Jedi mud slingers before school.
Focus. Don’t get angry. You love them.
I change their clothes, kiss hubby good-bye, load kids into car, and frown so they know that rolling in mud before school is bad.
Ten minutes later, I’m stuck in traffic and having a very random conversation about the art of espionage using Legos and extraterrestrial invasions. An interesting start to the day. We make the most of our thirty minutes together before I get them to their schools, kiss them, and get back on the freeway.
Forty minutes later, I pull into the parking lot at work. Just made it on time for my meeting! The rest of the day goes something like this: Meeting, meeting, conference call, coffee, meeting, meeting, coffee, and one hundred emails. It’s 5:30 p.m. already? I’m late! Again.
I call hubby. “Can you pick up the kids? I promise I’ll reward you tonight.” God, he’s wonderful. Traffic, so much traffic. I hate traffic.
Forty minutes later, I pull into the driveway. Dinner is ready. God, I love my hubby. Kiss hubby. Kiss kids. Eat dinner. Homework. Bath time for kids. Bedtime story.
Ugh! I need to answer emails and try to write one more page. Will promise hubby attention before bed.
Email. Did I really inherit $50 billion dollars? Cool. Look, fifteen emails from readers…awww…Super cool. Facebook…why the heck does that lady always put photos of her cat on my page? So weird. Oh well, Facebook is fun. I love chatting with my reader peeps. Crap! It’s 11p.m. already? Need to go to bed.
Brush teeth. Wash face. Find hubby who is…snoring on the couch. Superman is exhausted. Maybe I’ll give him attention tomorrow.
You could do yoga?
I crawl into bed knowing that 4 a.m. will come too fast and close my eyes.
“Hey, Mimi. You look hot in that bathing suit.”
“If you love her, set her free. If she comes back, she’s yours. If she doesn’t…Christ! Stubborn woman! Hunt her down, and bring her the hell back; she’s still yours according to vampire law.”
- Niccolo DiConti, General of the Vampire Queen’s Army.
THE DETERMINED VAMPIRE: Niccolo DiConti has faithfully served as leader of Her Majesty’s army for over a millennium, but he’d rather sunbathe in the Sahara than spend another gruelling day under his demented queen’s command. However, no one has ever left her side and lived to tell. So when a powerful goddess prophesies he will meet his salvation—a human woman he must turn into a vampire with her consent—he eagerly rises to the challenge. After all, how hard could it be to seduce a human female into taking the immortal plunge? Harder than he thinks. Because his mate won’t be born for another three centuries, and when he wakes up in the goddess’ tomb, not only is his life a mess, but his destined female isn’t about to settle for a cold-hearted vampire. Can he win her over before it’s too late? Not if his enemies have anything to do with it.
AN UNWILLING BRIDE: On the night Helena Strauss meets the fierce, devastatingly handsome vampire who saves her life in the jungles of Mexico, she knows her world will be forever changed. Because an attraction this mind blowing only comes along once in a lifetime—or existence. And when he claims she is his one true mate, destined to be his for all eternity, it’s a fairy-tale come true. So what if her knight in shining armour is a vampire? Nobody’s perfect. But discovering the powerful, overbearing immortal doesn’t “do love”? Deal breaker. Helena will flee and set out to accomplish the impossible…sever the otherworldly bond between them. And it turns out, Helena is just the leverage Niccolo’s enemies need to break the mighty warrior and wipe out his people.