If you remember from I’m Tagged as a Misfit, I needed money but I was striking out in finding a job.
In my interviews, I showed up overdressed, got pegged as a troublemaker, and channeled the Cheshire Cat.
Afterward, I sat at home lamenting the year I spent writing The Not-So-Great American Novel only to follow it with Western schlock that got whipped out of town by a New York City publisher.
Great. No book. No job. No money.