Lately I have been dreaming of sitting inside a house surrounded by trees and lawn and quiet...the kind of quiet that is the opposite of the non-stop chainsawing outside my window. In this house I am in a tan leather club chair with a big Sante Fe type blanket, facing a fire, Mabel on my lap, Jeff in the other chair opposite me. Where does this picture come from? Is it from all those houses that I have been looking at in the real estate section of the New York Times? Is it because recently the idea of going to write in a quiet place with space and seasons and a roaring fire seems more than just romantic but actually appealing? Is it a sign that there is a trip to NYC in my near future? Maybe that's where my new agent lives... maybe I am going to go and meet her this fall/winter? I don't know. But I do know that when I close my eyes and see this picture, I am writing a lot...so it's time for a little visualization, and maybe some earplugs...to get today's novel writing started.