It’s the day before Thanksgiving of 2015, and my finger is poised to click on Launch Now.
When I click it – IF I click it – my Kickstarter campaign will go live, and I’ll do something I never thought I’d ever do: I’ll ask my family and friends and complete strangers to give me money.
A lot of it.
I’m standing in our sunny bedroom, cradling my laptop in one hand, with the index finger of the other hand poised over the left mouse button, and I take a moment to think back on all of the things I did to get to this moment.
First and foremost, I wrote Do Over, the book I’ll be able to self-publish if my $2,000 Kickstarter goal is met – which is a BIG FAT IF
Do Over, btw, is a thriller for middle school-grade readers. It took me two years to write, and re-write, and re-write, and, well, you get the idea. It took a long time.
Once the re-writings were finished, I worked with an artist on the awesome site 99designs to create a cover that conveyed a dreamlike feeling of danger.
Then I sat sort of cross-legged on the living room floor and used my phone to shoot a short video of me explaining the importance of my book and the imperativeness of raising $2,000.
Finally, I uploaded that video to Kickstarter.
I’d done all of that, and much more, and now I’m standing in our sunny bedroom, ready to click Launch Now.
Only I’m not ready.
What if I click it and nobody contributes to my Kickstarter campaign? Worse, what if people contribute, but my goal isn’t met? With Kickstarter, you know, it’s all or nothing. Either your campaign is fully funded, and you get the money, or it’s not, and you get diddly squat.
My wife Amy and I, we can’t afford to spend two grand on a dream, not with a kid in college and me working only part-time at a magic shop. This has got to work!
But what if it doesn’t?!
Amy stands beside me, just as she’s stood by me the past several years while I wrote the four other middle-grade novels that slowly forged me into the writer of Do Over.
She slides her index finger next to mine, smiling encouragement.
We click the button together.
To be continued . . .