For so long, being a writer was my dream job. For years, I
tried to convince my wife to let me stay home and write. But what happened when
she actually said yes? I felt like a kid whose parents finally allowed me to
have a sleepover, but I didn’t have any friends.
On my first day as a writer, I burned my old work shirts.
Despite the fact that the shirts were tattered and worn at the elbow, burning
them may have been a bit excessive. Perhaps the same childish part of me that
enjoyed playing with fire was the part that sparked my interest in telling
stories.
