7 am: Wake up. Remember last night's resolve to go for a walk first thing in the morning believing it will help with the writing today. Drink coffee instead.
8 am: Bring the laptop to the living room where it's warm. Put on a Celtic music CD. Boot up computer. Still in bathrobe.
10 am: Looking at my page count; fight the urge to check email instead. I want to finish this Act and I've got 3 pages to go.
12 noon: Incredibly, I'm finished. 5 pages and the Act is done. Now I've got something I can work with tomorrow. I'm tempted to keep going but past experience has taught me that the first Act "informs" the second Act. Why write cold if I don't have to? I'll revise what I have so far and from that I'll get the foundation for Act II.
Still in my bathrobe with the dog staring at me, I check my email. Nothing there that requires attention so I do a little surfing around writer blogs because writing is a lonely gig ... and that's my day.
This is my "first draft" writing life. At this point, sheer discipline is the only "talent" I'm drawing on. It's the most exhausting phase of the process and the most dangerous. Distraction is ever present. Resistance to the work is high. As for income ... uh, well, there isn't any. I work for the local bookstore and newspaper on an on-call basis. When they call, I come. The constant pressure to make money is a gnat that I have learned to ignore. I live cheap instead.
Time to get dressed! The dog awaits.