I wake up to the smell of fresh flowers, orange juice and hazelnut pancakes. My two kids have brought me breakfast in bed. In the background, I can hear Louis Armstrong singing 'It's a Wonderful World.' Children and husband head out the door promising to return with gourmet meal. After a massage and a facial, I wander down freshly-waxed hallways to my ocean-front office where I'm just putting the finishing touches on my latest novel . . .

      Oops. You wanted real life. As in non-fiction, actually happens life.

      Wake up to the sound of the cat puking and realize I've slept through the alarm. Kids are cranky, so is husband. Laundry pile in hallway is so rank it threatens to set off fire alarm. Teenager turns on rap music, husband turns on CBC, crickets chirp so loud can't hear self think. Stand at back door trying to convince fat, lazy Beagle to go into rain to empty bladder. Send kids to school with unbrushed teeth and half-finished homework. Ignoring cat hair, dog hair, dirty soccer uniforms and crusty oatmeal, I walk blindly into my office, close the door and turn on my computer.

      Fifteen characters jump up and grab me by the throat. "Write about me, write about me," they scream.