Oh, I had lots of odd jobs. Over the years, I was a furniture mover. I was a piano mover. I picked fruit. I had a brief job putting watchbands on watches. I was a janitor. I shoveled coal. I was a cab driver. I know there were some other things in there, but those are the ones that pop into my head right now. Nothing special, really, because I’d met a lot of writers; and most of them, unless they were born with silver spoons in their mouths - and there are not that many of those - had had a lot of odd jobs. I think it’s just part of paying your dues.
