A Day in the Life of an Author Mom

People often imagine authors as ethereal creatures who drift from coffee shop to coffee shop, sipping lattes while inspiration rains gently upon us like fairy dust.

I am here to tell you: that is a lie.

I'm a full-time mom, full-time writer, part-time referee, part-time snack dispenser, and accidental professional multitasker, so my days look less like a Pinterest board and more like a fast-paced juggling act held together by caffeine, chaos, and the desperate hope that today’s school pickup line will move faster than it did yesterday.

So, in the interest of honesty and solidarity, here’s a look behind the curtain. This is what a typical day in my life actually looks like as an author-mom.

6:45–8:30 AM: The Morning Gauntlet

Most days, I try to get up at least 30 minutes before the chaos begins. If I manage it (and no kids wake up during my creaky-floor sneaking across the house), I get a little quiet time and enjoy a hot cup of tea.

Then comes the hard part: conducting the morning orchestra.

• “Shoes on, please.”

• “No, the other foot.”

• “Yes, you do need pants.”

• “No, we cannot bring a giant plastic dinosaur to school.”

  
  

Somewhere in all of this, I pack snacks, sign whatever paper magically appeared in the backpack overnight, and try to find everyone’s water bottles because hydration is important but apparently also deeply mysterious.

At 7:55, we pile into the car and drive to school drop-off. My six-year-old hops out with the enthusiasm of someone who hasn’t just spent seven minutes arguing about the exact placement of her hair bow. Meanwhile, my toddler throws me a sticky kiss from the backseat and announces he wants “a blue snack,” which is… not a food group I recognize.

And with that, drop-off is done. One kid down, one kid to cart off to the gym's kidcare.

8:30–11:00 AM: Gym Time (AKA My Sanity Hour)

Once the drop-off loop is complete, I head to the gym. And honestly? This is my happy place. It’s the only time of day when I’m not being climbed on, asked for snacks, or emotionally manipulated by tiny humans. I get to put in my earbuds, lift heavy things, and pretend I’m a powerful warrior queen training for an epic battle.

(If you see me on the rowing machine looking like I’m mentally destroying my enemies, no you didn’t.)

Sometimes I even get ten blissful minutes in the massage chair afterward, which is my version of a spiritual retreat.

By the end, I’m sweaty, endorphins are flowing, and I’m almost ready to face the rest of the day.

Almost.

11:15 AM–12:00 PM: The Magical Pocket of Free Time

This chunk of the day is what I lovingly call “The Potential Hour.” It could become anything:

• Running errands

• Cleaning some small, forgotten corner of my house

• Staring at my planner and willing it to fill itself

  
  

Sometimes, if the toddler miraculously stays glued to the television for 15 minutes, I can even take a quick shower without the curtain being ripped open halfway through. Those are sacred minutes. I guard them with my life.

12:00–3:00 PM: Work Time (A.K.A. Writing, Editing, or Staring at a Blank Document)

Ah yes. The block of time that my calendar optimistically labels “work.”

This is where I’m supposed to be churning out chapters, revising emotionally devastating scenes, editing client manuscripts, or sending Very Professional Author Emails™.

In reality, the first twenty minutes are spent transitioning my brain from mom mode to creative mode. Which looks like:

• making tea

• finding a good playlist

• rearranging my pens

• deciding I need a blanket

• reading three lines of yesterday’s work

• deleting those three lines

• writing one new line

• deciding that line is terrible

• crawling back to my outline for reassurance

  
  

But eventually — eventually — the words start to flow.

Some days I absolutely nail it, dropping into the zone and writing like the heavens are parting and inspiration is pouring down on me in shimmering waves.

Other days, I write sentence fragments and fix commas.

Both count.

Around 2:55, I sigh, save my document, and transform back into Mom Mode, ready to sprint toward the school pickup line like I’m in the Hunger Games.

3:00–4:00 PM: Pickup Line + Chaos Hour

The pickup line is its own special purgatory. You sit there, you inch forward, you contemplate your entire life, and then your child appears, waving a half-finished drawing and spilling goldfish crackers on the floor of your car.

From there, the toddler demands snacks the entire drive home.

I have no further commentary.

4:00–5:00 PM: The Soft Free Time (That Isn’t Actually Free)

Technically, this is “free time,” but let’s be real: this is the hour where both kids want attention at the exact same time, often in opposing directions.

The toddler wants to launch monster trucks off the table. My six-year-old wants to show me her newest art project, play pretend, and basically do anything that involves distracting me from the fact that she has homework.

Someone inevitably spills something. Possibly me.

I sometimes try to sit on the couch and relax during this hour, which is adorable of me.

5:00–7:30 PM: Dinner + Bedtime Routine

This is the marathon of parenting.

Dinner is usually something quick, relatively healthy, and designed not to cause protests from the toddler, which eliminates 98% of known foods. I try my best.

After that, we enter the bedtime gauntlet:

• baths

• pajamas

• more snacks (why???)

• books

• “just one more book”

• a sudden existential question

• the toddler refusing pajamas entirely

• songs

• cuddles

• “Mom, I forgot to tell you something important!”

  
  

By the time both kids are asleep, I feel like I’ve run a small kingdom, negotiated peace treaties, and survived a minor uprising.

7:30–10:00 PM: Late-Night Writing Sprint (AKA My Actual Creative Hours)

This is when the magic happens.

Some people write best in the morning. If I had free time to do so, that might be me. But as it is, I write best in the peaceful, blissful quiet that only appears after children are asleep and the dishwasher is humming softly in the background.

This is when my brain finally switches on. This is when I slip into the world of my characters. This is when I remember, “Oh right — I love this. I chose this.”

My late-night writing sprints are usually fueled by herbal tea, the last bit of willpower I’ve got left, and a deep desire to finish this chapter before tomorrow’s chaos begins again.

Some nights, the writing feels electric. Other nights, I stare at the blinking cursor and wonder if I should just become a professional candle maker.

But I show up. I do the work, even when it’s messy. Even when I’m tired. Even when the laundry is judging me from where it's piled on top of my bed.

Because at the end of the day, I love being a mom. And I love being an author. And balancing both may not be graceful — but it’s real, and it’s worth it.

So What Does Balance Actually Look Like?

Not perfection. Definitely not calm. And not the kind of balance where all the plates spin effortlessly.

It’s more like:

• some days I’m a great writer

• some days I’m a great mom

• some days I’m decent at both

• and some days the goal is simply “keep everyone alive and fed”

  
  

Balance, for me, isn’t a tidy equation. It’s flexibility. It’s forgiving myself. It’s taking a break when I need one. It’s writing in the car during practice, editing between errands, sneaking in self-care at the gym, and choosing family time when that’s what matters most.

It’s knowing that not every day will be productive — but the story will get written anyway.

Somehow. Slowly. Across dozens of late nights and sacred pockets of time.

And honestly? I wouldn’t trade it.

The Truth Behind the Curtain

Being an author-mom is messy, loud, chaotic, joyful, exhausting, inspiring, and occasionally covered in applesauce.

But it’s also full of magic: the quiet magic of words, the everyday magic of raising tiny humans, and the wild, unpredictable magic of trying to do both at the same time.

So if you’re ever wondering how authors balance motherhood and creativity… well, this is how I do it.

With caffeine. With humor. With stubborn determination. And with a whole lot of love — both for my family and for the stories that keep tugging at my heart, begging to be told.