A novel, basically, is writing one sentence — then, without violating the scope of the first one, writing the next sentence.

Kim’s remark reduces the intimidating scale of “a novel” to a disciplined, local task: making each sentence answer to the one before it. The phrase “without violating the scope” suggests an implicit contract established by the opening—tone, voice, premise, and narrative possibilities—that subsequent sentences must honor even as they extend it. The insight emphasizes continuity and constraint: invention happens not by leaping ahead to plot milestones, but by advancing incrementally while preserving coherence. It also hints at a practical method for writers: focus on the next sentence’s fidelity to what has already been promised, and the larger structure emerges from accumulated, consistent choices.