When I was in eighth grade, an English teacher I didn’t like mumbled something one morning about the class needing to do an Essay. I must have been half asleep or stoned at the time, because I didn’t hear the details, just that it was to be, "What I like about being an American," and the due date.

Several weeks passed and I overheard this nerd saying that she had hers done and was turning it in. I rushed and managed to get three paragraphs done and placed in the teacher’s file tray. Now here’s the funny part I failed to hear. The essay was for extra credit and was going to be entered into a contest held by a local women’s club.

Once again, a couple weeks went by and the grouchy old English teacher announced the winners. She started with the runners up and said let’s have a big round of applause for yours truly. I was in total shock! But not nearly as shocked as the teacher--which by the way, I was failing her class.

Later, I was told by a friend, “You wouldn’t have won if it hadn’t been for another teacher witnessing you writing the entry.” The winners were to receive a free dinner at a nice restaurant during the women’s club monthly meeting and their photos in the local newspaper. That Saturday we all met at the steak house me and five of the smartest, straight-A nerds in the entire eighth grade.

I remember playing video games while they had their meeting then we sat down at the table and was thanked, patted on the back and winked at for several minutes. The chairperson spoke up and said order anything you would like off the menu. Here’s where something in my mind clicked so I ordered the biggest steak they sold on top of all the fixin's to go with it and for dessert pie and cake. The nice ladies were happy to pay and mentioned at the end of the meal would you like something to go, I ask the waitress if they had pizza. One of the nerds whispered to me don’t be rude. I spoke up and said "I Won Pay Me" I laughed he didn’t.

If there’s a moral to this story in my opinion the craft of writing to me is to put out a noble effort but fully expect a reward for the work. Now let me clarify if you write short stories, novels, poems, etc. and you’re just doing it for the pride or pleasing your peers or maybe the excitement let me give you a reality check.

The most famous authors live in mansions and drive escalades, therefore if you’re a perfectionist with a lot of patience you probably need to enroll in a trade school and learn Heat & Air or Sheetrock Installation. My advice is to write with your heart but fill your wallet when you’re done. I don’t expect for many to agree with me on this but in today’s world its dog eat dog and the world is full of wannabe authors. Call it what you will but you’re never going to change my mind and that’s "What I like about being an American"