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We’ve all grown up around people who seemed destined to become writers. Everything they did was designed to give off that impression. Whether it was carrying around a journal at all times, to name-dropping all the au courant authors, or giving advice to their peers without ever having published anything, they seemed more interested in acting like writers than in learning the craft.

I doubt whether these types ever made it as writers. Self-indulgence is a cardinal sin in the field, which is why Faulkner advised, “In writing, you must kill your darlings.”

In any case, I was never one of those people. I was less interested in becoming “a writer” than in living the lifestyle that being a writer would allow me. Specifically:
• Not having an alarm clock
• Not having to go into an office
• Never having to interact with someone…