My dear,

Do you know what the Great American Novel looks like before it’s actually the Great American Novel?

It looks like three focused hours of writing every day. Like missed parties and saturday nights of fornication. Like sitting down in the same spot every day to write, even when you’re sick with the flu. Like 25 letters of rejection from publishers, one after the other.

And then when it’s done and written and published, when that one person who saw the Great American Novel under all that still went on to finish writing it, everyone who ran away from it in it’s infancy complains how that person was lucky, or in the right place at the right time, or whatever. When all in all they were too lazy or didn’t want it enough when it looked like mud covered rubbish instead of the shining glory it is at the end.

Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work.

Don’t be part of most people.

Falsely yours,
Thomas Alva Edison