Do they not like the title? I wondered. Do they not like the book cover?
After 90 minutes of this torture, I was absolutely distraught.
For the four years writing the book, I had felt a sense of mission and purpose like never before in my life. Working a full 8 to 9 hour day in my clinic, I had lived on a strict regimen during the four years of getting into bed by 9:30pm, so I could quiet my mind and feel a sense of surrender before turning out the lights at 11. I would sleep with that silent potentiality, so I could wake up at 5:30 in the morning and have two pristine hours of writing before heading into my clinic.
Before I ever began each writing session, I would close my eyes for 10 minutes and end my meditation whispering, "Please grant me the words to touch just one person's life."
I truly was inspired, and despite my ascetic lifestyle, I knew that's what I had to do to maintain the grace in my words with which I wanted my readers to eventually be touched.
Now, sitting there alone at my first book signing, I wondered if my entire life wasn't just a big joke. I watched the minutes agonizingly tick by on a clock on the wall. At 6:25pm, just before the store's closing, defeated, I began to get myself ready to leave.
At that moment, just when I couldn't feel any worse, a middle-aged couple walked into the room. Trying to regain my composure, I managed to hide my emotions and introduced myself and my book:
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2020-09-15
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