Can You Handle the Truth?

I was reading a link to an article posted on Twitter (I’m @tanialramos if you wanna follow), and the link was directed to a blog which spoke about the preconceptions of authors and who they really were.  Hemingway was listed as well as Jodi Picoult and others I hadn’t heard of.  I found it to be a fascinating article because I know personally that I hear about authors I know of like Patterson, Sparks, Palahniuk, and Wilde to name a few, and an image of their life immediately enters my head.

For instance, Nicholas Sparks: a family man with a loving wife, two kids, a white picket fence a lab and a cat.  I’m not saying that is who is, just that that is the image that plays in my head.  As for Palahniuk, well I imagine a man sitting in a dark room, drinking his tenth cup of Irish coffee, carving names like “Damian” into his large, antique  mahogany desk that has those old claw feet embellished on it, eyes drooping and  he is laughing maniacally while punching away at an old thirty pound typewriter.  I have a pretty vivid imagination sometimes.

So I decided that someday when I am a household name (insert rolly eyes) that people will likely have these misconceptions about me.  So allow me to tell my 37 followers exactly who am: I wake up in the morning and if I’m going to work I think of ten thousand reasons to call off … though I rarely do, and if Ido it is because I am legitimately ill.  If I go to work my day ends there.  Now, days I have off are much more interesting: I wake up and try and try and try to fall back asleep because just once I would like to say I sleep in.  Usually, I am awake by 630 am.  If I am home alone then I pull the laptop from under my bed and proceed to follow this dreary routine: Check stats on home page, check stats on book trailer (close to two hundred views, yay!), check WordPress (no link necessary, right?), check email and wonder why I am being sent info about Viagra and who my new friend in Zaheer is and how much money he will send me today, proceed to delete all email except the ones with the coupons to Payless Shoe Source and Baja Fresh.

Interesting life right?

Next, I look out my window and think I really should get to cleaning the moat … er, umm, pool today.  Shake my head and tell myself that someday I will be able to hire a full-time pool boy, with the glistening body of Andonis, hair flowing like John Bon Jovi, with some exotic name like Sven or Mauricio…oops, did I go off topic? Okay, next I look at the huge mess that continues to pile up on my dresser and think that after writing one chapter I will tackle the mountain of papers and create some kind of logical filing system.  Yep, right after I write that chapter.  Next, I take a shower and go downstairs, and if not caught up in some conversation with my mom (yes…I do live with my mommy still! Well, she lives with me, and YES there is a difference).   I might or might not find something to munch on, but a cup of ice water is a definite.  I love to crunch ice.  I then proceed up stairs and start writing that chapter, and if I do it right that could take all day.  Boyfriend comes home from work, I read him my new chapter of awesomeness and amazement…watch to see if his eyes tear up…remind him this is purely FICTION and does not have any resemblance to our lives or events we have been through other than the fact that my characters breathe air and we breathe air, but the similarities end there!!!  Then I go to sleep.

Now when I am famous, you can tell all your friends how Tania L Ramos told you personally about her life.  And when they ask what I am like you can answer with, “Well, she likes ice … and … lives with her mommy…still.”

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4 responses to “Can You Handle the Truth?

  1. I love this post! I sense an air of procrastination floating lazily around your daily existence. A feeling I know all too well! I’m definitely writing tonight though. Definitely.

  2. Oh, Tania–you’re the greatest!! I love the way you make me laugh!! God bless you, dear on (and mom, too)

    • Thank you. Years ago I was so uptight that I could never pick on myself. After three kids and two bad marriages, I learned to take myself a little less serious unless it was something serious. Otherwise, laughing is so much easier than being stuffy all the time

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