So, it’s official. I’m on vacation. I spent last weekend revamping my writing room instead of my writing. I’d been using a tiny folding desk left over from a daughter’s college dorm room, so I brought up our Thanksgiving-extra-seating folding table, which gives me another foot or so to make a mess on. The room is really too small for any sort of real desk. I’ve got masses of research books and files shoved under the table now. If I get ambitious, I might get some Velcro and fabric and make a skirt. Don’t hold your breath. I took four huge black trash bags of keeper books upstairs to the spare bedroom, and discovered all sorts of things. Apparently I own two books entitled Jane Austen, Feminism and Fiction and Presenting Miss Jane Austen. I’ll let you know how they are (again, don’t hold your breath).

But now that my desk is newly arranged, Sadie noticed my Jane Austen Action Figure and tried to remove the quill from her cold, dead hand. Sadie’s middle name is Jane, so she seemed entranced with the little plastic Jane. She kept putting Miss Austen to sleep on a pillow whispering “shh” and then yanking her up, giggling maniacally. No naps for Jane or Sadie Jane, or for me either. I’ve been pretty tired—it’s been a looong school year—and even Sadie noticed when the air went out of my balloon Sunday afternoon. She put her arms around me and asked, “Matter?” Empathy, and she’s not even two. I have great hopes for her.

So I’m back to writing a book which features a two year old boy on my sparkly new desk. Write what you know, right? How do you feel about kids in romances? What do you know about Jane Austen? How clean is your desk?

For a double-dose of me today, check out my writing tips post on Vauxhall Vixens, totally pirated from another site. Good stuff.