I Don’t Deserve This

I’ve earned it.

I didn’t want to speak to anybody.

The crowdfunding campaign I set up to publish my first book had failed and failed miserably. My goal was to raise $3,000 and on the last day that people were allowed to donate, I had only raised 300.

It felt like someone had reached into my chest and squeezed my heart till it burst. Releasing my book was a dream I had since I wrote my first book at eight years old. With the crowdfunding not working out, I couldn’t see how that dream would become real.

So I drove out to a bridge near my mom’s house. The bridge is at the head of a dead-end street and under that bridge is a small stream. Only two or three houses bordered the street, and I hardly ever saw anyone out there. This was my escape spot.

On that day, I stood leaning over the wooden railing and listened to the water flow. I thought to myself, “Maybe I don’t deserve this.” Maybe I haven’t worked hard enough. Maybe I’m not supposed to publish this book.

The late afternoon turned into evening. I stayed on the bridge for hours contemplating my next move, questioning myself, wondering what it would take to earn the right to call myself an author.

Days later I was sitting in my friend’s garage, still sombre, when I got a text. It was from one of the people…