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How I Wrote My First Book

I spent about a decade so obsessed with writing the next Great American Novel that I didn't finish anything. I wrote and re-wrote the same first chapter of the same failed book. I must have done it 50 times. I did it so often, I got sick of it. I eventually gave up fiction writing altogether and spent most of my free time overdrinking at $1 PBR nights, cigarette in hand while I had rambling, late-night, angst-ridden psuedo-philosophical discussions about the meaning of life and art with whoever (whomever?) was nearby. My come-to-Jesus moment happened a decade (and many crow's feet) later. I walked into our garage after work, and my wife stopped me by the door. Her eyes looked feverish. She handed me a gift bag. Inside was a tiny...

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