Just seeing all the articles suddenly pop up to announce the plan to turn the top floors of New York City’s Woolworth Building into luxury condos makes my brain salivate. The top floor will be a penthouse straight out of a movie or TV set designer’s wish list. In fact the first thing I thought of when I read about it was TV novelist Richard Castle’s enviable abode.

It hits me where I dream, big-time. I love old architecture, and I’d love to live in the Big Apple. Can you imagine perching high above the landmarks of that great city, laptop wedged against a sky terrace railing, the only barricade between you and the stars as you weave tales inspired by the city that never sleeps all around you? I can. All too well.

Such luxury is far, far out of my humble league, regrettably. However, nothing, absolutely nothing is beyond the reaching fingertips of my dreams.

That’s where my fiction comes from. Well, not the psychopath. Or the vampires that do Elizabeth Bathory proud. But, I also write of the wealthy and the powerful (if that phrase reminds you of a certain dreamy old TV series that’s about to get the reboot treatment, it’s supposed to), romantic dreamers, and even creative types who might themselves perch above some sparkly city to weave their stories within my own.

Purple koalas are notoriously big, daring dreamers. So…see you above the skyline, in my dreams… or maybe even yours.