There are, I humbly submit, few people as adept at quitting as I.

My 20s were a blur of jobs and relationships abandoned, most due to a combination of restlessness, ambition, and alcoholism. The net result of that recklessness: A fat advance check for my first book, Bringing Nothing To The Party.

No wonder I got a taste for it.

Later I quit my apartment in London – and London itself, and then England – and embarked on a new life spent living in hotels. Along the way I quit most of my possessions until I could fit my life in a single carry-on bag. On the eve of my 30th birthday I finally quit alcohol, and have been sober ever since. All of which saw me rewarded with yet another check, for a second book called The Upgrade. (And then a third: Sober Is My New Drunk.)

More important than the cash I earned as a professional quitter was the acclaim. Such was the panache with which I quit my job at AOL-TechCrunch that I “earned” a place on Business Insider’s list of the “Best Resignation Letters of All Time.” After quitting Silicon Valley for Las Vegas, I enjoyed a solid month of press attention from bemused Vegas journalists trying to understand why anyone would trade California for Nevada (The universe soon offered an answer: $1m in funding for NSFWCORP.)…

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