Back in Houston, slow and quiet, reeling from my time in New York which was marked by a great deal of socializing and subway rides. The latter allowed for ample reading, namely two books by Albert Camus I picked up from Book Thug Nation in Brooklyn (one of my favorite bookshops in existence), easily devoured over the course of my 10-day stay.
And somehow, in the cauldron of conversations, reading, observation, book-browsing, and general contemplation, an idea for a novel came to me.
This, of course, is a terrible thing. I'm still on the last chapter of THE SOLAR GRID, after which I should probably add a few short stories to TIMES NEW HUMAN. After which, and only after which, I should contemplate pursuing the prospect of writing a novel (or any other potentially draining project for that matter). One way of knowing whether or not you're passionate enough about a project anyway is putting it aside and revisiting your notes on it down the line, to see if you feel just as excited about it as when the idea first struck.
It is good to know though that I, sooner or later, will have a way to put my notes on writing a novel in one month to the test and see if they actually work.