As a reward for turning in Heartlandia (working title for my 2013 book), I redecorated my writing room. Tada!
What you’re thinking: THIS IS THE LAMEST WRITING ROOM EVER! THIS LOOKS LIKE A FOUR-YEAR-OLD WENT NUTS ON A TARGET SHOPPING SPREE!
What I’m thinking: You’re right. That’s exactly what happened. I’m sorry, Virginia Woolf, I tried. A room of one’s own is not in the cards for this writer.
As it turns out, two children of different genders, temperaments, and sleeping habits can share a room without killing each other for exactly four and a half years. No longer. Definitely not five. One of them would have been dead, Hunger Games style. Now she is free to sing Selena Gomez songs at the top of her lungs, and he can wake up at 4:30 in the morning to read about the solar system. Nobody gets hurt.
Don’t feel sorry for me and my stifled writing room dreams. I’m actually writing this post while she is falling asleep in the bed beside me, and once she is asleep I can crash cymbals over her head and she won’t wake up. I may even have my own little Selena Gomez session. As for the inspirational decorations, um, my next book is going to be about owls and hedgehogs?
My actual gift to myself:
Nothing says, Way to go for working your tail off on that one, Jessica like a pedicure and new sandals. Happy Spring, everyone!