Step 1: Make money as an established genre fiction author, which is “not a real author” according to sad bastards who write lit fic about their feelings.
Step 2: Buy a tank.
Step 3: NOTHING. There is no third thing. You win at life.
Plus, think about it. You would win every argument after that for the rest of your life.
“Socialism works great in Denmark!”
“I have a tank.”
“You aren’t a *real* author!”
“But I have a tank.”
See? You can’t argue with a man who has a main battle tank in his yard. I don’t know if I win, so much as I wouldn’t care. Because tank.
In other news, I’m going to quit my job and devote myself full-time to writing, so I can have a tank. I don’t need a main battle tank: a light tank or APC would do just fine. I’m a humble man, of humble needs.