People often imagine romance authors spending their days in cosy cafés, typing away as soft music plays in the background. I wish it were that glamorous. Most days start with coffee strong enough to resurrect the dead and a quick scan of my inbox to make sure nothing is on fire — metaphorically, at least.
Once I know the world hasn’t collapsed overnight, I open whatever manuscript currently owns my life.
My mornings are for drafting. This is when my brain is at its sharpest, so I block out a few quiet hours and dive into the next scene. Some days the words come easily; other days I stare at the same paragraph wondering why I ever thought writing a slow-burn romance set in London was a good idea.
Either way, I keep going. Progress over perfection.
By midday, I usually need a break. I’ll stretch my legs, walk through the city, or refill my coffee for the third time. This is the part of the day where ideas tend to solve themselves. A line of dialogue clicks. A character motivation sharpens. Something that felt flat suddenly makes sense.
I jot it all down before my brain decides to lose it.
Afternoons are for the business side of being an author: updating my website, planning TikToks, answering messages, and sketching out future books. If I’m in the middle of edits, this is when I tackle them. Edits require a different kind of energy — more analytical, less dreamy — so the shift helps.
I usually wrap up by early evening, but the truth is that ideas don’t care about schedules. A plot twist will hit me while I’m cooking dinner. A line of banter will land when I’m trying to fall asleep.
Being a romance author means carrying the story with you everywhere, letting it whisper until it forms something worth writing.
It’s not glamorous, but it’s deeply satisfying — a daily mix of creativity, discipline, chaos, and the thrill of building love stories that feel real. And honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.