One of the most enticing things about writing fiction--especially a novel--is creating and inhabiting an imaginary world, walking its streets, and getting to know the characters that wander through it. One of the most unexpectedly wrenching things about finishing a novel is saying goodbye to that world, those streets and characters.
Last weekend, when my husband Andre and I took a brief vacation to New York City, it was a little like stepping back into the world of Catherine, my novel that was published last January. Catherine is set on the Bowery and in Chelsea--in fact, one of its narrators is even named Chelsea, after the neighborhood her mother loved and left behind. So going back there, peeking into the window of Chelsea Guitars and pausing in front of the Chelsea Hotel, feels like a homecoming.
Here are a few random snapshots from this weekend:
|Breakfast at Le Pain Quotidien|
|Quickie Mart flowers|
|Mural on the corner of Bowery and Houston, smack dab in The Underground territory|