The Audiobook Journey: Pain, Love, and the Unknown
Some stories fight their way into the world — and this one has put up a hell of a fight.
Today, I’m heading back into the studio to re-record the first four chapters of my new book. This will be my eighth or ninth session — I’ve honestly lost count. Compared to my first audiobook, this process has been unbelievably hard.
My first book was about pain and reckoning. This one is about love and awakening. It feels like birthing something so much more vulnerable, especially at a time when the world feels so divided and raw. Sharing stories about love and healing feels riskier than talking about pain.
Have you ever noticed how it’s easier to say, “I hate you,” than to say, “I love you”?
Last time, I recorded for three days straight, and it was done. This time… well, nothing has gone smoothly.
I paid for the first session, and they lost the payment, forcing me to dispute it with my bank before I could even try again. My first day in the studio — 2.5 hours of work — vanished. The second day, the equipment wouldn’t work. They transferred me to a different studio, but the equipment there malfunctioned across four or five sessions. Then, the producer I was working with quit. I tried again with another producer for a few sessions — and then he quit, too.
Finally, I received the recordings, only to find the first 90 minutes unusable, needing a full re-record. The other sections need adjustments, but hopefully they’ll work. It’s been an exhausting process — both physically and metaphysically.
Yes, there are clear, practical reasons for these mishaps. But the discrepancy between this experience and the smoothness of the first audiobook feels like more than just technical glitches.
Honestly, I think the energy of this second book is just… different. It vibrates higher.
Living this story was hard. Writing it was hard. Recording it is hard. Publishing it will be hard. So, why keep going?
Because I believe this book was divinely inspired. It feels like a prayer — a prayer for what’s possible if you keep trying, keep searching, keep healing, keep forgiving, and keep moving forward.
This book carries big energy and big love.
I believe it will change me to put it into the world — and I believe it will change others, too. The unknown is both terrifying and thrilling.
But that’s the thing about love: It asks us to leap, to trust, and to pour ourselves into it, no matter how uncertain the outcome.
And so, I leap. Again and again.
Because some stories demand to be told.
And this is one of them.
