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November 1, 2011
In my fantasy, I am telling the talk show host that I wrote my entire book during trips home from the gym on the M5, in longhand in a little notebook, gathering as inspiration whatever I happened to see through the windows as the bus made its way up Sixth Avenue, along Central Park South, and up Broadway, or what happened on the bus itself. But this could never happen. Although inspiration could pose a challenge, and would, the bigger threat to success would be the fact that even reading the back of the Metrocard makes me supremely nauseous. Pffft.