As you might know, I’m ridiculously enamored of my office, which is a tiny attic apartment down the street from my house. Every day when I go up there, I feel a little rush of glee. My place, where my stories are born! So here’s a little bit about my little place, and some of the things I love here.
My office is very poorly insulated, so it gets very cold in the winter, and very hot in the summer. Sometimes it gets into the 90s. I have an air conditioner, but I only use it if death is imminent, you know?
I keep a Pilates ball in the shower. You know. Just in case I feel the urge to exercise (or just roll around on the ball for the heck of it).
On one wall hangs the New York Times bestseller list the first time I hit it. If I ever hit #1 (which seems to be in the same league as winning the lottery), I’ll frame that one, too. There’s the People magazine cover when they reviewed Somebody to Love, and the wall going up the stairs. I frame each original book cover, and at the bottom is the New York Times Book Review, when they reviewed The Perfect Match and said, “Higgins only gets better with each book.” I keep these things as trophies to buoy the spirits, because writing for a living is hard (and wonderful, but still hard), and it’s nice to see reminders that I’m not a hack. A different kind of trophy in my office is a little rose made from duct tape, given to me by the neighbor’s daughter because she loves me. If there was a fire, I’d save that rose before the NYT review. Priorities and all that.
Once in a while, I take a nap on the floor. Willow really likes that. She’s a cuddler.
I have a total of thirty-two pictures of my kids in my office. A bunch of my nieces and nephews, too.
Here’s a red ceramic polka dotted chicken on a shelf in the kitchen, because it’s just so goofy and cheerful. Also, a cow-shaped spoon rest. My farm roots, you see. That’s a picture of my grandmother, the Princess and me about 12 years ago.
Because my dad is my guardian angel of sorts, I keep a little shrine to him in one bookcase. The rock he brought from Ireland, a little bag of marbles that were his, and a picture of him riding my horse, so long ago.
Thanks for coming to visit! It was lovely having you!