A Day in My Life – pre-Woolf Works
6.30am: Alarm goes off with message ’30mins early morning writing time!’. I try to extricate myself from Baby T sleeping on my arm but fail. Lie awake for fifteen minutes thinking brilliant things I could have been writing about which I will instantly forget as soon as I stand up.
6.45am: Big sister comes storming into the room, throwing the door wide with a shout of ‘IT’S MORNING’. Baby T is now definitely awake.
8.45am: Right. Big Sister is at school. Baby T is playing quietly. NOW IS MY TIME. I slink into the home office with a cup of tea and straight away notice the giant pile of random papers that need filing away. I really must have a clean desk before I can get into writing.
9.30am: Baby T is crying and I’ve been lost in a wormhole of filing / working out if I paid last months phone bill / re-labeling the folders since we changed banks AND phone companies last month.
10.45: Baby T is happily napping. My mother skypes from New Zealand and wants me to sneak in to his room so she can watch him sleep.
11.15am: Right. Lets get into this. No more mucking around. Fresh page. Nice pen. I’m free writing to find an angle for my next short story.
11.25am:Baby T is awake.
11.30am: He is well rested and fed so surely he will play nicely just there next to me and I can get some work done.
11.32am: What’s that smell?
11.33am: Nappy change
11.40am: Baby T shuts his finger in the drawer and screams like banshee.
11.45am: Time to go for a walk, I need some fresh air.
1pm: Baby is in the safe hands of our helper, Siony. Time to get to work. I write a power list of three things I need to get done. One. Reply to five emails. check. Two. Back into free writing. I’m feeling the flow.
1.45pm: Doorbells rings and the Singapore Dengue Police want to have a serious discussion about the state of my flowerpots. I’m also under strict instructions to remove a banana tree which is apparently a mosquito paradise.
2pm: Back to my desk, spend twenty minutes googling Dengue symptoms and trying to alleviate mother-guilt.
2.20pm: Start to put together a framework for a short story. Vaguely remember a brilliant twist I’d thought of this morning when a courier rings the doorbell.
3pm: Think about putting together a website for my work but feel lost about where to start. What is a domain host anyway?
3.15pm: Big sister is home from school with two grazed knees and lots of tears.
4pm: Baby T throws Big Sister’s favourite My Little Pony into the toilet. World War Three commences. I give up on getting anything else written for the day.
8pm: Kids are sleeping. I’m exhausted. Still haven’t been for a run. I go to bed with my laptop, Netflix and a glass of wine and set my alarm for 6am with the note ‘Must get up! 30mins quiet writing time!’
A day in my life – post-Woolf Works
6am: Wake up – have perfected the art of extricating myself from Toddler T’s arm so I stealthily escape, throw on running clothes and head out the door.
7.30am: Breakfast with kids, shower, dress.
8.30am: Drop Big Sister at school, Toddler T at Play School, head into Woolf Works.
9am – 11.30am: Work quietly and productively on current projects with a coffee break and chat to a fellow member about which CRM systems are best.
12noon – Pick up Toddler T from play school, have some cuddle time.
1 – 3pm: Back into Woolf Works, have amazing Vietnamese Pho from a local restaurant while writing and editing.
4pm – 4.30pm: Meet some potential new members and show them around the space.
4.30pm: Meet a local business owner who wants to collaborate
6pm: Home for dinner, bath and bed for kids.
8pm: Glass of wine and chat with my husband
9pm: In bed with a book to read.
Woolf Works is a shared work space for women located on Joo Chiat Rd, Singapore. The concept came as a direct result of my years of of frustration, distraction and loneliness as a stay-at-home mum / student / amateur writer / entrepreneur dreamer from 2008 to 2013. Woolf Works is a quiet, calm, distraction-free space for women to work productively and find community. Email email@example.com for more information.