My first thoughts while holding a physical copy of my newest book, Realtime Recovery, Relapse, Revolution:
1. Wow, it’s as thick and heavy as most academic textbooks I’ve had.
2. And it’s sexy. The colors didn’t print exactly as vividly as intended, but still.
3. Then I flipped through the pages, feeling quite content about the hours upon hours upon days of work I’d put into painstakingly designing the inner layout at a more professional level than my previous books.
4. And I realized the gravity of the text. The words here represent the hardest work of my life. This book wouldn’t exist without over three years of consistency, and much longer than that of striving to be self-aware and to improve myself.
(I used to think of consistency as an unattainable carrot-on-a-stick.)
5. It’s difficult to explain the overall feeling I have about RRRR, but these are powerful emotions. Humility is essential, but when I search my heart I sense more confidence there than foolish pride, when I say that this book is special, worthwhile, and perhaps my most valuable tangible contribution to society yet.
I was initially disappointed and hesitant to release the physical version at a $25 price point (my initial intention was $15). Production costs were higher than expected because of the book’s length (592 pages) and it’s size (6″ x 9″). At first, I felt insecure about selling it for $25, wondering if anyone would actually buy it.
This goes back to an old issue I’ve had with money in general. I can trace it back to 2009 at least, back when I truly needed help and answers in life. But I had no money (and no insurance), and it seemed like everywhere I turned, there was someone with a service I needed or an answer I craved, but there was always a price point attached to it.
I needed help so that I could put my life together enough to make money. But if I could do that on my own, then I wouldn’t need the help and services that I was insufficient to afford to pay for to begin with…
You following this madness?
Back then, I resolved in my heart: “If I ever get out of this hole and find myself in a position to provide service to the world, I am going to eradicate the barriers that stand between people in poverty and my services rendered.”
After that, as I gradually became more capable in a societal sense, that resolution made it impossible for me to make adequate money from services I provided. Giving everything away for free was entirely more comfortable for me than asking for money.
Sometimes people would tell me: “You need to value your time more. You need to value your skills more, and the energy you put into working.”
Which made sense to me. But accessibility was more important to me. Where I wasn’t compensated with money, I was definitely compensated with valuable, enriching experiences with clients.
Being accessible and reducing barriers in this world will remain essential to my path.
Alas, as I held the physical copy of Realtime Recovery, Relapse, Revolution in my hands, and felt energy radiating from its pages, I knew right then: This is absolutely worth paying $25 for.
Of course, that doesn’t matter to someone who doesn’t have $25 to spend on it.
The Kindle version (still in development; I needed a break from formatting for a few days) will be $5 on Amazon.
But I also know what it’s like to not have $5.
So, via a website called Gum Road, you’ll be able to pay whatever you want (even $0) for the Kindle, Nook, and .PDF versions.
This is my way of striking a balance between accessibility and acknowledging the worth of my work.
If you can afford the $25 price point, I am confident that you won’t be disappointed with the product.
I’ll keep you posted on the status of those eBooks.
May thine day, night, dawn, and dusk be perpetually resplendent.
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