Ah, the smell of baking bread, and diet soda on tap. Perfect. I'm tucked up here at my local Panera, trying to generate a genius picture book. (Hey, I can't spend all day researching small publishers). The only distraction is the group of little old ladies in the "Reserved" room. I think they are writers too - lots of papers and pencils and laptops in there. Plus a couple of walkers. I've decided that they are writing dirty romance novels.