I am writing to you guys from a hotel in Paris, where my wife and I sit looking out over our balcony at the Eiffel Tower. A travel assignment for---GASP! that dinosaur, the "magazine." Just got here this morning.

Why am I here?

Because I, like Cary, went through the same 10,000 punches in the nose and kept getting up.

The secret to success in writing is to get back up, just like Jake LaMotta.

I remember sitting in my car on a 20-degree day in Park Slope 8 years ago, lamenting that I didn't have the money I needed to buy razors. "Maybe I should do something else," I said to myself.

A moment later, I banged the ever-lovin' shit out of the steering wheel.

"NO!" I screamed. "THIS is what I do!"

In 2007, I made $93,000. Tabloid reporter. Fun. Exciting. Hard, long hours. Barely time to congratulate myself on meeting a deadline---had to start researching another article, due in three days. Sometimes I had to take the photos, too, because the newspaper wouldn't pay to send someone.

They fired 40 of us last September in the newsroom.

This year, I've made $6000. And it's June. Our industry has been stabbed in the neck, chest, balls and belly and is still hemmorhaging. But I will find a way to my fortune. I have no children. I don't own an apartment. I don't do anything that distracts me from my writing. But I will, in the next 3-5 years, be the next Sedaris or Burroughs, goddamn it. You're gonna know my name. Some of you already do.

I'm writing my first three chapters early mornings and late evenings with a fury borne by rage and revenge and burning interest in words and storytelling and blood and guts and love and violence and absurdity.

Brick by brick, letter by letter, shit-detector turned up full.

I've been approached by a producer to host a TV show about my area of expertise. (Whatever---I never get those things, but it's nice to be asked.)

There isn't even a question in my mind whether or not I will "give up". There is a howling devil in my soul, and you're gonna hear about it.

The howling devil, that is, and travel stories for this magazine edited by two smart guys who leave me the hell alone to do my job and run my text as-is.

Writing isn't for kitty-kats.

Merci for listening.

Now I gotta get back to work.

What other careers are you looking at, LW?

You can't be a journalist until you resolve your DUI/license/drinking issues. You can't really do anything else, either.

You can't be a nurse until you resolve your drinking issues. (They ask about it on your license application.)You can't be a doctor until your resolve your drinking issues. (They ask about it on your license application.) You can't be a lawyer until you resolve your drinking issues. (They ask about it on your license application.) You can't sell insurance until you resolve your license issues. (They ask about it on your license application.) You can't be a teacher until your resolve your drinking issues. (They ask about it on your license application.)

What the hell are you going to do?

Maybe you should resolve your drinking issues. It could even be a career move.

Here's what you do: Move to LA. Get a crappy job. Find out where the power agents/writers/producers go to AA/NA. Go to those meetings. Quit drinking. Work the program. Learn to smoke. Go out on smoke breaks with the old timers. Find a power agent/writer/producer and ask him/her to be your sponsor. Ask him/her to give you career advice while you're at it.

"There is a howling devil in my soul, and you're gonna hear about it."

...another egocentric who doesn't get enough attention at home.

You have the talent. You are selling stories that pay. Now you need to straighten out your head and keep persisting. I knew a gifted writer who threw away a career on drink. It can wreck any career, so watch your drinking or try to give it up. For Pete's sake, if you go to bars once you get your license back, call cabs! Start a journal. You are going through a very painful time, the period right after graduation. Your friends have scattered and you are still trying to find a job in your field. Who knows? The pain in your journal could be the basis of a novel. Web sites are hiring writers, so keep reading them. Unfortunately, the newspaper business is in decline, but newspapers still take on freelancers. Resolve to get cracking on your job search once you have your license back, because journalists have to travel across town to cover stories.

I just had an illuminating thought about your situation, and I wanted to post a final addendum to my earlier letter. You froze yourself in your tracks by losing your driver's license, and now you're working in a deep freeze making ice cream. This seems highly symbolic to me. The kind of emotional trauma that causes someone to drink to the degree where they would drive under the influence is caused by painful 'frozen' memories that need to be thawed out by being examined. I think your unconscious is trying to tell you something and I really hope you will get help for yourself. I don't think you are going to be able to move forward until you do - your lack of transport could not be more symbolic of your career paralysis, and it's keeping your frozen at the door that leads from the last stage of childhood to adulthood.

Dear MaxMillion, "last" has many meanings in the standard dictionaries. To suggest that "last" has one meaning is just ignorant. You don't get to impose faulty grammar tips, especially while erroneously describing diction as grammar. We're talking about word choice, not sentence structure.

One of the standard meanings of "last" -- not slang, not a mistake -- is "most recent." That's just the way it is. Please direct your complaints to every dictionary-maker.