I was a Junior in High School the first time somebody ever called me a writer. The reason that memory has always stood out for me is not because it was momentous at being called a “writer”, because I still figured they were tweed-wearing hermits who didn’t do it for the money. Nup, the reason I remember it was because it was the first writing assignment that I ever said, “Aw, what the hell” towards, and wrote from my heart. I was fairly used to “A”s because I toed the line (on my writing assignments, not when I duct-taped Mrs. Stabnow’s thermos lid from the inside) but the grade on this paper didn’t matter a bit to me. When I saw the “A” I felt more relief than anything, but when I read the next words my spirit actually soared. “Well done Judd. You are a great writer!” But writing a novel is hard. Years and years later and I’m finding it interminably difficult to sit down and work on my novel. I’ve got the goddam thing all written, all… Read moreWhy I’ll make it as a writer… someday.