Memories In the Wild

I had received a text message from the mom of one of my piano student's. She was asking me about lessons for a friend and then asked me if I had written a book. I was astonished as how she found out that information as it's not something I broadcast publicly. She told me it was the first thing that came up when she searched my name on the internet.

Well, then. 

Before I leapt to incorrect conclusions of being a famous author, I correctly put the pieces together.

- she paid me via PayPal and my maiden name was still attached to that account.

- my maiden name is quite obscure. I'm no John Smith or Jane Doe.

I actually searched myself using my maiden name and low and behold, it came up. My book was being sold on a book reselling website. I found the listing. The seller had put in the description, "A paperback book SIGNED and inscribed by author to previous owner on the first page in very good condition that has some bumped corners, wrinkling and crease, light discoloration and shelf wear. 8"x5", 177 pages." 

Immediately, I felt slightly betrayed. Who would part with a personal, signed copy of my book? I had personally ordered 25 copies and sold them only for the price of printing. I kept one copy. 

I told my husband about this and he asked me if I would buy it just to take it out of circulation. I said, "Of course not. This person is trying to sell it for twice what I charged my friends and I didn't care whether it was in some random person's possession or not."

But it was still eating away at me who had given away their copy of my book. I understood he/she could do whatever he/she wanted and it didn't matter if it was my book or not. But I still felt hurt.

My biggest accomplishment before I had kids. $0 profit but 1000% satisfaction.

I loved writing, and I wrote these books at a time in my life when I needed them the most. They were my therapy. I didn't care to become rich and famous. I just wanted a place to catalogue my writing and keep it close to me. And I did exactly that. These are stories of my life, my experiences, my loves lost, my sadness, my anger, my joy, and my adventures. 

When I wrote the first one and shared them with interested friends, one friend gasped and said, "You used their real names!" I did. The reason why I did was because I had nothing to hide. These were true stories of my life. I said nothing incriminating about anyone in my book. In fact, I mostly said good things because that is how I remembered them. The bad things came with the sadness they made me feel. It didn't make them a bad person. 

I didn't realize it then, but there would come a day (now) when I would forget parts of my past experiences. Had I coded their names, I would not be able to remember who it was. And that would devalue the memory. Writing it the way they happened allowed me to save the memory and keep it true to the person. 

I reread them every now and then. Reading my own writing from so long ago makes me cringe. I see places with errors I failed to catch. I see unpolished works I once thought were "pretty good." I think only 1-2 pieces in total still impress me the way they did when I wrote them. But that's the power of wisdom. I know I can see things now through a different lens than I could when I was 18 or 20. 

**

I found out whose book the seller was listing online. I saw my personalization in the front, something I did for every person who bought a copy of any book I offered. At first, I was sad. I wondered why this person would choose to let go of my book. And then I figured it out. This person has always had a big heart. This person has always been a giver, not a taker. This person would want to share my writing with someone else. That's all. It's unfortunate it ended up in the hands of someone trying to take advantage of an opportunity to capitalize, but I believe that was never the intent.

And then I let go of the hurt.