My journey along the way has been a rather unique one, I would imagine. The first year I wrote, I was “locked” away in my bedroom for the month, writing between bursts of fundraising, ministry, and theatrical endeavors. The following year, similar. The third year, I lived in a run-down motorhome in the backwoods of Florida, awaiting my move to Chicago. I had no full-time job these three years, so they didn’t take me that long to win (apart from the first one when I was gaining my “NaNo legs”).