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Once upon a time …

    … there was a guy named Cody. He grew up in the Midwest, did very well in school, went to college, got a degree in marketing, and went to work. He was building a decent little nest egg, had good friends, and got to travel every once in a while. It wasn’t that he didn’t like what he was doing, but it didn’t make him happy, either. So he took a new job in a new place and thought, “This is what I need. This is the answer.”

    Eight months later, that position for which he uprooted his life was eliminated. But Cody found that he didn’t really care. He was worried about replacing that income, of course, and things like health insurance, but was he worried about whether he would miss all the trappings of the standard-issue American 8-5?


    He realized that fate had created an opportunity to work toward something he’d never taken seriously enough: A lifelong love of writing. What if it was more than just a hobby? He’d have to pay the bills somehow, but he had skills and connections. That would work itself out. For the first time in a long time, he started thinking about the possibilities of a life lived off the rails. It was exciting and scary, two things his old life never, ever was.

    For some reason, he started writing about himself in the third person.

    This is a self-publishing journey in progress, and it’s just begun. I’m going to do an awful lot of writing over the next year, and I’m going to put it out there. I’ll find and cultivate readers, and I’ll write books that they’ll love to read. It’ll be a slow burn, but this is my path now. I’m not leaving it for anything, and I hope I won’t be alone.

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