My Nearly Perfect Day!

By Robin "Red Hot" Kaye

It's amazing to me that yesterday was a nearly perfect day, especially since it started with only three hours of sleep and an hour and a half drive at dark o'clock in the morning. I drove my ballerina, Twinkle Toes to school in the next state, dropped her off, told her to have a great week, and headed for my favorite Starbucks in the world.

Of course, any perfect day for me begins (and sometimes ends) with coffee. I'm an addict. If there's a 12-step program for caffeine addicts, please don't tell me or anyone in my family. If my dear husband knew, he might just force me to go to the meetings and then what would everyone drink?

I walk into the Carlisle Crossing 'Bux, say my hellos to the manager, the baristas, the regulars, and hand Trudi my Venti travel cup and my Gold Card. There's no need to order, they all know my drink better than I do--especially after only three hours sleep. My lucky table is open, I pull out my laptop, plug in, log onto the internet, and when I look up, I realize someone has delivered my coffee. Perfect! I throw out a blanket Thank You! and pull up a fresh document to write my suckopsis...I mean synopsis.

Those of you who are writers know that the dreaded synopsis would put water-boarding to shame on the Richter Scale of torture. Still, they must be done, so I hunker down and proceed to type and beg for refills.

By the time my dear friend and fellow addict comes to collect me for lunch, I'm six pages in and the story is flowing like a movie through what's left of my caffeinated brain. I registered a kiss on the cheek, heard Dana say "Do you believe that about Bin Laden?", respond with a "Huh?", and completed the paragraph I wa writing. I looked over my screen and saw Dana lounging in his favorite chair, drinking his green tea iced tea, and checking messages on his blackberry. "What about Bin Laden?" I asked. Dana smiled and said, "You're kidding right?" He proceeds to inform me, between his laughter, that I was the last person on the planet to hear Bin Laden had been captured and killed. My husband called to see how things were going. I mentioned Bin Laden and was thrilled to be able to inform Dana that I was not the last person to hear, my dear husband was!

After a most enjoyable lunch, Dana returned me to my favorite table at 'Bux and I wrote and wrote, begged for coffee, and wrote some more. At closing time I was just finishing up so I let them lock me out while I typed furiously. At 9:56 I had finished the best synopsis I ever wrote--all 12 pages. I called my agent, told her I hadn't even edited it, and emailed it to her. She said, "Wait, 'Bux is closed. Where are you?" Only the agent to a true caffeine addict knows the operating hours of her author's favorite Starbucks. "I'm outside the front door," I answered, "It's all good, they still have the Wi-Fi on." She yells at me to go home and tells me she'll call when after she reads it. I drive over the mountains and through the woods (literally) and even before I'm home, my agent calls back and absolutely gushes over my day's labor. "It's perfect!" she exclaimed--it was also a miracle since she only found a few typos." My agent isn't known to gush so I'm more than pleased.

A book is born!

See I told you it was a perfect day. Now all I have to do is raise a New York Times Bestseller!

So, what does your perfect day look like?