Using an old typewriter and handwriting. Careening down the dark side, I decided to disconnect from the web minus a few phone communiques. And it paid off big-time. Upper five figures contract to buy a short novel because it's "unique, disturbing and grotesque." ( A compliment from my agent?). Never sold a book before, never had more than a few hundred bucks in my whole life. Spent 20 years wandering the highways of America, a homeless drifter. Felt triumphant for a few weeks but now I'm feeling a letdown. I made it. No more freezing, no more ditch, no more malt liquor and I might be able to fix my broken teeth and this embarrassing planters wart. They made me sign away ALL rights to the story minus a tiny percentage but I'm not worried. I did not rank this story very high on my stack, and there's plenty where that came from. My main worry now is trying to adjust, to adapt away from the life I led, like a released prisoner. I can't bring myself to buy anything nice. I can't change.