I'm at a writing conference this week. Today, I pitched my book to a ton of agents, and an overwhelming amount of them are interested in it. My book is about my father's death. It was hard for me to not cry while I waited in line to pitch to the last agent, my hands full of business cards from other agents. I must have looked pretty bad, because a volunteer walked up to me, shoved a glass of water into my hands, and ordered me to drink it. All I want in this life is for my book to be published, and for people to mourn my dad's death the way the world should have when he left it. I've fought hard for this, for a long, long time.

My dad loved reading and sharing books with me more than anything else in the world. He would be so proud of me today if he were alive.

As I knelt on the ground in my final pitch line, too sore to stand up any longer, and fighting back tears as I thought of my father, this song filled up my head.