When my older son moved out and my younger son moved into what he had always perceived as the “better” room, we turned his room into a guest room, complete with twin beds and a small bookcase with young adult books.  At some point, though, we had to face the hard fact that there would be no more sleepovers.  My younger son was approaching high school graduation and, believe it or not, nearly-adult men don’t often indulge in sleepovers.  So we put the beds on Craig’s list and I fulfilled my dream of creating my own space in which to write.  I never knew what I was missing.  I have an over-sized chair and ottoman, a desk, music, and (most importantly) books.  Rows and rows of books.  At times, my husband will stick his head into the room and ask how the writing is going and is surprised to see me reading.  “Research,” I mumble and return to a particularly juicy love scene.  The point is, though, you have to have your own space, free of the distractions of being a parent, a spouse, a pet-owner, and an obsessive-compulsive house cleaner.  In my room, my characters are free to walk around and talk to each other while my fingers on the keyboard try to frantically keep up with them.  Find a space and make it yours; your characters will be waiting for you.