An Idea That Came Twice

Eight years ago, colleagues at work told me I should write a book. We were sitting together and I was telling them what I had experienced until then — life on the street, half a year without a salary, how I taught myself to program, although I was failing school to become a chef. I was totally lost back then, occasionally taking meth. Despite that, the idea seemed good to me, even though with the life I had back then, it would have been a complete fiasco.

The same idea came to me again eight years later. It was inspired by one specific situation — nice, a bit funny, with a colleague and a bet I made with him. It is one of the few passages in the book where I laughed while writing. I'll save it for the chapter where it belongs.

The difference between then and now is simple: back then I had an idea without a story. Today, when I have five out of six chapters finished, I have an almost complete story. I finished the previous chapter a year ago, last May — back then the story was not complete yet. The chapter I am writing now is the one where it closes completely.

Why I Am Writing About This Now

When I was sitting over this part of the book, I realized something I hadn't seen so clearly before — that the same idea can pass through the same head twice and mean two completely different things. The first time it was an escape from my own life. The second time it was an acknowledgment that that life can already be spoken aloud.

That is actually the reason why I am writing this book — not to prove that "everything is possible", but to show what it really cost.

I am writing about this in the book — chapter Life Is Beautiful, subchapter Everything Is Possible.