Leap of Faith or Foolishness?

There I was, with six pesos in my pocket, weak from fever and cough, and my eyes squinting from the noonday sun. I miraculously survived the three-day Midterm Examinations, and was currently facing a larger predicament.

Catastrophe: Our budget for the month of January ran out, and it had been three days already since my grandmother last took her medication. I needed to buy her meds, fast.

Disaster: Both Mama and Papa were unreachable through e-mail and SMS, and I no longer had enough balance in my phone to make a call.

Tragedy: The LPG gas also ran out, and the Electric and Telephone bills were already overdue.

Crisis: The people at the publishing house called, they wanted the 70 copies of the cover to be printed and delivered to them today. The owner also asked if I could add some more money to the 4,000 pesos I’ve already deposited.

I get a grip on my frayed nerves and swallowed my anxiety. I walked slowly to the pawnshop and discretely slipped my grandmother’s earrings into the appraiser’s hands. I looked around nervously, hoping no one would see me.

“One thousand five hundred.” She says.

I nodded and proceeded to sign the documents. What a lousy way to spend my post-Midterms weekend, I thought.

I walked slowly on the pavement as I made my way to the drugstore. Why, why did I decide to push through with the whole mass printing of my book? I cursed silently at the foolishness of my decision. I wouldn’t have been in this predicament now.

The past week, I made and sold 8 copies- I printed and photocopied them myself, cut them, took them to the book binding place, and designed the cover. A lot of people from school, the place where I printed the book, and some readers of my blog were asking if they could have a copy. I decided if I were to make more copies, I had to get help.

“Fifty copies minimum at 150 per book. We are offering you a cheaper alternative because we’ll use Risograph for the production.”

“Sir, how much do I have to pay to get started?”

“Up to you.”

I gave him the last of my money, and the electronic file of the manuscript.

Foolish.

And then he calls me up the following day to inform me they need to make at least a hundred copies for the Riso. I told them I could not afford it.

“How about 75 copies?”

“80.”
Reluctantly, I agreed. Crazy, crazy boy.

After buying my grandmother’s medications, I went to Paperworld to buy some laser-compatible paper for the cover. I chose the cheaper ones now, instead of photopaper, which used to print the covers in.

I took them to the printers to have the 70 covers printed. While the machine hummed as the paper was being fed to the printer, I’ve got to thinking again of my blind faith in my work. There was absolutely no guarantee I’d actually get the money back, let alone make a small profit. The opinion of the first eight people could be wrong, I reminded myself, and some people are going to laugh in my face for sure. But I’ll never know until I try it.

With virtually no money, physically exhausted, and with low spirits, I said a silent prayer, and hoped for a miracle.

Unwrapped.
First customers.

As of now, the book is going under review by Lit Professors in LNU, SSCHS, EVSU, and hopefully by Ma'am Alunan in UP Tac.