Before I was a copywriter, I was a deadbeat comic lying on the floor of my parents' house, in the fetal position, trying to figure out what I wanted to do in life.
Eventually, I got off the floor.
Then I got my big break: my best friend’s 69-year-old father needed help advertising his erotic novels on Amazon. I took him up on the offer, even though I had that sweet gig working the midnight slot at Chuckles.
Soon, I found myself leaving the fevered dream of e-book advertising to become a copywriter.