"Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict my self. I am large, I contain multitudes." WW Hello. I'm Chad. I'm not a professional author. I'm not a professional anything, really, though I do really enjoy my dogs so suppose I might be a professional pooper scooper. Unfortunately lifting #!$^ doth butter no bread. I love to write, I really do. I think I have a story in my head that would make an excellent book. Whenever I have that thought, though, I also think that there are probably millions of other people who have had that same train pass through their mental stations. This does a great job of discouraging me. Now, however, I find myself in a peculiar and providential situation. My restaurant is selling. This is a very, very wonderful thing as I will soon be blessed with money and time enough to spend a few months trying to achieve what I've always wanted: To become a poor, struggling, suicidal author. Rather than, at parties, introducing myself as Chad the Restaurateur, I will be able to say, "Hello. I am Chad the Writer. What's that? Oh, no, you won't have read anything I've written, I'm remarkably unsuccessful and it's difficult to read a book that's not been published." It really is my greatest dream. After all, money doesn't make one happy. If that truly is the case, I'm about to be the goddamn happiest person on the face of the planet. Hey, at least I'll be a writer.