Fundraising. This is a term very foreign to me. Some people do this for a living. Philanthropic geniuses. They study psychological motivation and they study and sociological trends. Some people know exactly how to get a dollar of charity out of people. I don’t know much about that.

But I do know that for the first time in the entire 6 year process of writing my memoir, I need people. I need charity. B. Sterling and I are living on one income. When Iris was born, I deeply wanted the chance to be a stay-at-home-mom. So we tweaked the budget and B. Sterling took on extra gigs and opportunities to teach music lessons. Even still, our budget is real tight. There’s nothing sexy about my food pantry on one income. Bulk, off-brand cereal. Long, bland loaves of wheat bread. Big, heavy jars of peanut butter. And bananas. We keep Chiquita in business at 42 cents a pound.

So when it came time to publish my book with West Bow Press, B. Sterling and I looked at each other and said the same thing aloud, “Where are we going to get $9,000?” We have an emergency fund, but publishing my book isn’t exactly a family financial emergency. So we prayed about it. And we talked with other people who have published books. And fundraising from friends and family rose to the surface as our solution for the cost of publishing.

This is why I am using GoFundMe to raise money to publish my book. Some people have already contributed money to my campaign. I wish I could say eloquently how grateful this makes me. It’s somewhere in the realm of weepy + lushy. Like when you’ve had a bit too much wine on less than a full night of sleep. I end up wanting to cry on their shoulders and promise, “Oh my gosh, thank you! I’ll dedicate my next book to you!”

You get my sentiment? My heart swells at your kindness. At your belief in my creativity. At your hope for my future writing career. Nothing has said love to me lately in quite the same way.