Well, even though writing a novel does takes such a long time, I might as well get started. I’ll kick myself if I live to be a lucid 100-year old and not have done it. (My mother lived to 94 so I have a good chance.)
Plus, I’m already thinking about the research I’ll need. I was in the downtown shoe repair shop this morning before work, and it is just about how I remember my grandfather’s - small, old equipment, dirty, bags of repaired shoes on a shelf behind the counter, and shoe-related stuff for sale on the opposite wall - all with that strong waxy boot black smell. At some point in the book I’ll have to describe the shoe repair shop of one of the main characters, and there, right in the downtown of my home town, I have a model.
I bet the owner would love an acknowledgement in my book.