…I’m afraid it might not be YA at all. Which does make it harder.

The latest advice from my patient other half—after the movie, while walking through Washington Square Park at night through the crowd of revelers listening to the Beatles cover, passing them dancing, passing the fountain, passing the rat, which runs across the path, making me cringe, then out, out of the park, then home—was to just write what I want to write. We can define it later.