I have a love/hate relationship with trains. I enjoy the views, I only dread sitting still for two hours. I reach Grand Central Station and meet up with my father who works right across the street in Mid Town Manhattan. I’ve seen that starry ceiling a hundred times, and yet it never becomes less incredible. He drives me back over the bridge to our quaint little home in New Jersey. Much of the time i’ll daydream about my novel, playing around with the storyline. It’s easy to spark good ideas in beautiful places, even on a cloudy day.