I’ve  been to Florida once in my life, and that was in summer with a six month old baby, so my main memory is trying to keep her from getting fried to a little crisplet.  Now I’m getting to go again, and I’m really hoping it looks like that picture (insert my boneless body in the hammock).

You may need to also add a few people running around with mouse ears on their heads, since I’ll be in Orlando. Not for Cinderella’s castle, but for a retreat sponsored by The Greenhouse, my literary agency. Sarah G. Davies (the G is for genius) has masterminded a get-together of as many clients, from both here and the U.K., as can make it. I’m really looking forward to actually meeting my comrades, many of whose books I’ve read and loved. Being a writer is a mostly solitary business, and this is kind of the equivalent of an office taking a cruise together, so I expect some high times. Also, I’ve lately gotten some nice book news (TBA!) so I anticipate clinking a glass (or even two) with Sarah. In the sunshine!

Meanwhile, here at the desk, I’m at the stage in a new piece where I’m still telling myself I’m just fooling around. Not really writing, uh uh. No way. I love this time. It’s a  bit like riding in a glass bottomed boat, watching bright schools of fish, and maybe something unexpected, like a manta ray, glide by beneath you. No responsibilites, just watching…