A Day in the Life of Author Diane Zparkki
Writing is not my full-time job, oh how I wish it was. My day begins like most working moms with my alarm clock being programmed to go off at six thirty with the sweet sound of “Free” by Zac Brown Band. Now that does not necessarily mean that I get up. I head up rolling out of bed about fifteen minutes later and get myself ready for the day. By seven thirty I am heading downstairs but not before I flip the lights on in my son’s room while his own alarm is blaring to his own sound, and it is no Zac Brown tune.
I make my way down to the kitchen to get breakfast ready and make lunches. Loving that next year my son will be in high school and he will have to make his own lunch.
At eight o’clock I am final sitting down to eat my breakfast and will either go through my emails and do correspondence or I will read for half hour before I have to leave for work.
But of course, during the midst of this morning kitchen routine, I have hollered up to my son about a dozen times to make sure he is up and getting ready. I wonder how I once did this with three kids in the house (my two daughters are at university now).
I am at work ready to start my day by eight forty- five. I spend my day at an elementary school where the autistic students are integrated into the regular class with support for an educational resource worker, me. The job is consuming because I often try to think outside the box to teach and also help the classroom teacher with the curriculum they need to have in place for these students. Some days can be challenging, to say the least, but on those days when things go smoothly and my students get it. It’s an absolutely rewarding day.
My lunch breaks are spent in a quiet room where I can run away with my characters and write their story. In fact, my computer is usually with me wherever I go. As I am writing this I am sitting a speed training program my son is involved in for an hour. I could easily leave and go for a coffee or go shopping but my character is always hanging out with me demanding to be heard.
I thank my lucky stars that my husband loves cooking because he makes dinner most nights.
After dinner I get myself settled down with a cup of tea, fuzzy socks, and my pajamas to sit down at my computer to write. I close down the computer at around eight thirty and do one of two things: climb into bed and read whatever book I am reading or head down to the family room and watch two or three episodes of whatever Netflix obsession I am on. My eyes usually close around midnight where my characters decide to take over my subconscious.