What crust! The Great American Novel - from a guy who wrote a few dozen shitty newsletters for business and one speech with help from the boss for the company president. But crusty as it may have been, it was meant. It reflected Will's state of mind at the time and it seemed like he was going to be Will as Holden Caulfield, prancing through life as a spoiled latch-key kid who quit his first job as a paperboy, quit biddy league football, got dumped by his first love at 16, got married at 20 when the draft board breathed down his neck (quit that, too), saw a little bit of the world, but never did ANYTHING as meaningful as meeting Jill. It was peering into their soul that so moved Will that he thought he could capture the humor, the pathos, the passion and the true meaning by putting it all into words and becoming all Norman Mailer. How about a postage due mailer? The accent today is on seeing the world virtually while cozied up to honeybutt Jill knowing the hardness associated with that is so much easier than keyboard pounding which is h a r d. We just watched a story of a guy who took 8 years and 4 months to do a sketch of Marilyn Monroe. That's full-time for 100 months out of his 20s and 30s to make a single piece of art. Will can't find even 100 hours to apply to his Marilyn. Maybe next year.