The young man sat down at his computer finally doing the thing he had so long intended to do—write his first novel. He breathed a deep breath of purpose, as if inhaling very destiny itself, and then, with a crack of the knuckles he set about his work.

The work went quickly at first—turning on the computer and adjusting his posture to the keyboard position. But then, after opening up a blank document, things slowed to a sit-still. He fidgeted the silence away.

I’m writing my first book, he thoug...