When I quit smoking everyone I knew still smoked. I didn’t have to buy a pack for the temptation find me. A friend would see me standing with my hands in my pockets and wave a cigarette in front of my lips. I didn’t have to ask for it. Hell, I didn’t even have to light it. As far as they were concerned, I looked wrong without it.
I was the type of smoker other smokers pointed to and said, “At least I’m not as bad as him.” Continue reading What Writing a Novel and Quitting Smoking have in Common