The room I was to pitch in was not private. Walking in, there were about 10 or more tables set up throughout the room with a literary agent sitting at all of them with their name on the table. My person was one of the first, so I made eye contact as confidently as possible and sat down. After a few seconds of small talk, I dove into my pitch, and the words started flowing like a soothing, soft river…

For the next three months, I worked on the book six nights out of the week until one or two in the morning, taking only Saturday nights off the decompress. I knew I was sacrificing sleep during this time and was essentially relying on caffeine to keep me going, but I loved spending time on the book.

When I finally got through my review, I looked at the clock and it read 2:03 am. I had been so immersed in reviewing the book that I completely lost track of time. For the last six hours, I was in a trance. I was so focused that nothing else in the world mattered.

Then, almost instantly, I felt a calmness come over my body. Like how you feel once the anesthesia kicks in, right before you pass out. The next thing I remember was seeing a tube-looking thing right in front of me.

Being lost is a strange place to be in. You wake up every day, but something just doesn’t feel right, and you cannot figure out what it is. You feel fine physically, and your mind is still sharp, but there is this like hole in the back of your mind that is there constantly reminding you of its existence.

Not knowing what to do (and foolishly not researching anything beforehand), I sat down, opened up a Google Document, and just started typing. I didn’t bother mapping out what I was going to write about or putting it in any specific order; I just wrote about whatever topic came to mind.

Before I dive into my journey, I figured it would probably be best to first put some context behind where my passion for helping real estate agents entering the industry came from.