I ’m a writer — at least I’m trying to be a writer. I haven’t made any money at it since I won fifty cents in an insult contest with Gabe Kleinman in fifth grade. This was an encouraging success, however: all writing is a form of insult. Good writing, anyway.
Camus said, “There is no fate that cannot be overcome by scorn.” I used to have that taped over my desk. Then one day I tore it down. Some fates, I decided, require a power even greater than scorn. I refer, of course, to the power of love.
