In fifth grade I became a professional writer. Some of the teachers would pay me .25-cents per story. I wasn't Bill Gates rich, but I felt like I was doing pretty good for a poor boy from Charlestown, Rhode Island.

Trying to get published is extremely frustrating, and it seems that all the cards are stacked against a would-be author.

So many times I promised myself to give up writing, and pursue a new career.

But, in the end, I always find myself thinking of new plots and characters. I realize that I have very few skills, except for writing.

So, even if I have to take up drinking, I guess it's because at this point in my life, a best-selling author or bust. God gave me the talent, so He must think I have the write stuff.

For better or worse, I'll be plugging away at my keyboard, I guess.