My sister-in-law, who was for many years a successful literary agent, finally got out of the business because it was too sordid and depressing, and she wearied of the money-making schemes dreamed up by brain-damaged publishers and writers. She said she would rather teach cosmetology at a leper colony.
Her wisdom is proven correct by Mr. Bill Heavey of Virginia. Someone (who is presumably loose in public with no one in charge of him) has paid Bill to live off the land for a year and write a book about it. I don’t know whether this involves eating grubs, snails, and cockleburs or fighting the local stray cats for dumpster-diving rights, but I do know that Bill will be foraging where the Confederate Army tried to live off the land and nearly starved to death.
Presumably, you will be interested in reading about Mr. Heavey’s gradual descent into hunger and madness, with side trips to scurvy and pellagra. If so, he is right here on our website in a new blog called A Sportsman’s Life. And if you live in Virginia and should happen to see a ragged, skeletal figure rummaging through your garbage, give it a kick for me.