The Moment I Decided To Take A Chance On Myself As A Writer: I’d always said that if 30 consecutive days passed without me being happy in my job as a bookseller, I’d quit. Over an 11-year period, there were times I came close to that number, but then something good would happen and I’d fall in love with my job all over again. In 1994, however, I finally hit the 30-day mark and so, as soon as I walked into work that morning, I gave my two weeks’ notice. The owner, perhaps hurt, said I could just leave then. Five minutes later, I was out on the street. It was a Tuesday in the first half of November. I want to say it was the 14th but I’d need to look at a calendar of that year to be sure. The sun was out and it was warm enough not to need a jacket. I was walking away from a job that came with a decent salary, full benefits and four weeks of paid vacation a year, but I was finally going to get serious about writing. I had no idea what I was going to write, but write I would.