My novel Reality Check has a publication date of 2008, but it began on the back of a receipt tape eight years earlier.

I worked the night shift at a small-town convenience store. That meant I spent about one hour of my eight-hour shift cleaning, two more dealing with the bar crowd, and most of the remaining five alone as the night stretched on. My home life at the time was a nightmare, and I didn’t get a chance to do any writing there. But I did have rolls and rolls of blank receipt tape at work.

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