While in high school, I had one or two professors give kudos to my writing. Joined a sci-fi/fantasy forum with active writing competitions, reading clubs and th

While in high school, I had one or two professors give kudos to my writing. Joined a sci-fi/fantasy forum with active writing competitions, reading clubs and the likes. Got some kudos from there as well. Wrote first, totally unpublishable, shameful novel. Got into university (electrical&computer eng), exploded outwards (socially). Published a couple of short stories, attended a handful of literary workshops. Started mental outline of First Great Novel, which became gradually documented in a deep yet unorganized way. Multiple attempts at writing the first chapters failed, mostly due to intense (or at least intensely experienced) personal issues. Never succeeded in pulling this off part-time. Again and again opted for professional growth against the artistic life I had been daydreaming about (and increasingly, as the years went by, obsessed upon) as a teen. Ended up in a CS PhD (27 at the time of writing, third year of study). Covid hit. Found true love. Life and income have stabilized. Finally feeling dumb and courageous enough again to give writing another chance. The premise of the book is: what if people started, beyond their control, to transmit their actual feelings through the air via their breath?