My First Book Could Have Saved A Life

I found myself burnt out this morning when I went to write. I haven't written in days, and I know I need to keep it up or I'll lapse into another 5-month hiatus. And that can't happen because it'll prevent me from reaching my goals. So I stuck some music in my ears and contemplated why I'm feeling this way.

I think I've been too fixed on the vocal stats. The story I've been working very hard on isn't getting the reads that I was hoping it would. It makes me feel as if it's not worth writing - which isn't true because it is a good story, I think anyway. My most-read article is a review of a stupid Plinko game app that is a scam to earn money, and I'm just nonplussed. The fluff articles that I am writing to get into Vocal's algorithm. I only have 3 stories out of like 80 that have over 100 reads, and the Plinko remains the most read at over 1000.

Meanwhile, the meaningful things I write, like the recovery from trauma advice, and my stories are all at like 1 or 5 reads. And I'm just floored by that. I share the links to my meaningful stuff just as much as my fluff stuff, so why is it that Vocal says they've only been read once or twice? And the disappointment I feel about that is bitter and gives me feelings similar to what I felt with my first published book, Memoirs of In-Between.

It's not available to buy currently as my contract with my publisher ran out, but that was intentional. The editing was shoddy, just ran through an auto-correct program, and they wanted me to pay 75.00 a page to edit, and I was like seriously? I paid $5000 for this kind of service? I've only sold about 170 copies of my book, and that's kind of okay, until I get it re-published with proper editing.

Still, I was disappointed. I work hard on my content. And everyone who has ever read the book has LOVED it and stated they feel like it should be made into a movie. Which of course, strokes my ego but I still feel like it wasn't enough. I was proud of myself for publishing a book, I felt like it was a milestone. I was, and still am VERY proud of my story. It took me 5 years to complete the book, and I'll never change my mind on it. Completing a novel is a big deal, even for writers.

Still, I was hoping that I could make an influx of income, and maybe even be able to leave residual income for my kids one day with revenue from it - whether that be from a movie deal, merch products, or even just the book itself. I was disappointed in myself, frustrated and let down. Kind of like I how feel about my vocal stories.

But a small voice in my head reminded me about... her. A young girl who lost her parents at a young age. Both of them in a tragic accident. Someone close to my mom who took in this little girl to adopt her after this accident bought my book and gave it to this girl. Which doesn't seem like a big deal, right?

Except my book has a theme of death in it. In the first few chapters of Memoirs, the main character dies and goes into limbo. This is where she works to save her own soul and other people's souls around her. She fights monsters hellbent on eating souls and saves countless lives. In the end, one of the characters ascends to the next leg of the soul's journey after death - in a good way. The book is full of hope, and community, and it has the message that death isn't permanent.

I was told that the little girl who was given my book read it several times, because it consoled her. I was thinking that it made sense. The little girl had just lost her parents when she read my book for the first time. We were told that it helped her through the darkest time of her life, and that she held on to it tightly. I was told it helped her believe that her parents were okay somewhere, wherever they were.

When I was told this I cried, and I thought: Even if I never sell another copy of this book again, I am happy with it. The fact that my first book could help someone, anyone, especially a kid, through a tragedy, and help her really believe that things would be okay for her and her parents touched my heart in such a way that I don't even care if the book ever gets republished I (even though I would still like to). I don't care if this first book ever gets major recognition.

I helped someone. My story helped someone.

And I was taken back to the time I was a kid when reading was my escape from reality. When the yelling and the screaming, or the anxiety and depression got too loud, or when the world was falling apart and I was lonely. My best friends and protectors were made up of characters that were only words on pages.

My story helped someone the way my childhood books helped me. I remember crying with joy when I heard this, and feeling so grateful. Because that's always been my outlook. In whatever I do, if whatever I am doing can help one person, in any way possible, then I've done my absolute best and I am on the path I am supposed to be on. My heart was broken for this young girl who lost both of her parents, but in a way, I felt like I was there with her, there for her, even though I didn't know her. Which is exactly what I would want to do for a kid like that.

I hope that my story made her feel like I was wrapping her up in a big protective hug, and I hope she heard my voice whispering this story to her, and that she felt safe and hopeful while she read it. I seriously doubt that's how she felt, but I can hope. Either way, it was emphasized how much my book helped her. And I was elated. I don't care if I sell 100,00 copies of anything in the world.

Sometimes I get too caught up on the trivial things that define 'success.' My desire to provide for my kids overrides the things that I know are truly important. My desire to leave something that they will be proud of after I die has become an obsession.

So sometimes I need to remind myself of this little girl. The little girl that read the very first, very crappily edited book that I published, and found hope and strength in it during the darkest time in her life.

That's what's important. That my words were felt by someone at the level that I TRULY want my writing to be like. It's not about the fame, or even about the money (though money would be nice for doing what I love). It's about the real reason I started writing stories like that... to help others. To give others a story that plants the seed of hope. So that my stories could find someone who is in need of them and touch their heart in some way, shape, or form that gives them a spark of hope, inspiration, joy, or even just alleviates the burden of reality for a while.

Even if I never become the next Dean Koontz or Ann Rice, I'll be okay with that. Because I know at least ONE of my stories (and my FIRST book even!) has helped someone in the world. And that's just the one that I know of. I pray that my words continue to echo in the world and help countless others.

And I will keep working hard, and I will try not to let numbers, stats, and algorithms get me down. Because I have words to write, and stories to tell. And I believe each one has a purpose. If Memoirs was only created to help that one little girl, then I am happy. Hopefully, my next story will inspire someone else.